Evidence of Reading MosaicThe number on the caller ID came up as the University of Minnesota. My knees went weak and I thought, "This is it!" This is the phone call. Ah, the fates are cruel. The alumni association raising money. And a clear sign I am much too tangled up, my emotions are a little on the strung out side. I am quick to emotion, snappish.
I seriously had no idea how crazy February and March is for people who applied to MFA programs. No clue. I was completely calm, even ambivalent, as I put together application packages, enjoying myself even as I put together a portfolio. But now, I am even more restless than I was last spring, when my teaching job was on the line with budget cuts. More of my heart is on the line for next. (Risk.)
I think there are other elements too: I am in desperate need of fresh air. Minnesota has been lacking in mild days; not only is the snow slick and caked to the concrete, but we get ice cream headaches when we walk the dogs. I am feeling twitchy, on edge, in need of that smell in the air that indicates a change, a turnover in the soil. I need a break from the routine (but I just had one, was just in Florida with poetry for a week, how selfish can a girl be), maybe just a change in setting--that the school-house-school-house routine is grating on me. The air hasn't changed in weeks.
Fortunately, tomorrow marks the first day of bookbinding, so I will return to the Open Book for the evening. This, after parent-teacher conferences. A long day.
This is interesting: see Zadie Smith's commentary on not awarding a prize, and further reactions as well. But wait, there is more.
And the debate in these comments at the poetry foundation.
But the benefits to this waiting game--finding interesting new blogs to peruse: from the pear.