E was watching the Disney Channel the other day and the Jonas Brothers' show came on.  And ya know what?  It was kinda funny.  I feel like a dirty ole cougar for saying it, but yeah . . . it was entertaining.  And they were cuties.  I can see the appeal now. 

Now, if only Miley Cyrus would go away . . .

I have facilitated two undergraduate workshops now as a teaching assistant.  This is an upper classman creative writing class, one of two advanced workshops that only English majors are able to sign up for.  If you're in this class, you're an English major and most students are serious about writing.

The First Workshop

Story 1 was a mess.  It was unorganized, cliche, melodramatic.  It had so many grammatical errors in it that I wondered if the student's first language was not English.  But, despite the mess, there was a plot there.  There was an attempt.  The author was excited to put all the critique to use in his revisions.

Story 2 was less of a mess.  There was some moments of melodrama, some cliche characters, but it was a solid story: beginning to end.  It had a narrative arc.  Good job.  The guy also took in the critique eagerly and you could tell this was someone who loved writing--loved to play with words, etc. 

All in all.  Good, solid workshop.  Good vibes.  Good feeling.

The Second Workshop

Story 1 was one of the most hideous pieces of writing I have ever seen in my entire life.  The guy apparently had a hard on for Ayn Rand because he was doing all he could to emulate her writing--and doing a poor job of it.  So, you take one of the shittiest writers on the face of the planet (sorry Ayn Rand fans) and a budding writer who desperately wants to become Ayn Rand, and you have a disaster in the making.  It took me 4 hours to get through the story, analyze it and make notes for the workshop.  The student listened and was patient and quiet.  But, he didn't take a single note.  He pretty much just sat there with his legs stretched out and arms crossed.  Apparently everything WE all had to say just wasn't good enough?  Who knows.

Story 2 was your typical, "my boyfriend and girlfriend, like oh my GAWD, I'm writing what I hope would really happen to ME someday" story.  I wrote those in what . . . 6th grade?  Many writers go through that phase.  But.  Hi, you're a college student now.  Furthermore, she also didn't write a single thing down or take notes or really even look up at the students.  The clincher for me was when I asked her "how did you get the idea for this story?" she shrugged and said, "I just needed crap to put on the paper for workshop."  Gee!  Thanks. 

I hope it gets better from here.  This is draining.  I guess I need to learn not to let shitty attitudes from college kids get to me. 

I'm sore!  I hit the gym hard yesterday, lifted some weights.  Yow! 

I took E with me (they have daycare) and it was her first time being left alone with people she didn't know.  She did so well!  She did not want to leave.  I'm very happy about this.  It means more options for me for getting my workouts in.

When Miss Cleo went to the happy catnip garden in the sky, I told the doctor that I wanted her body used in medical research.  We use the university's animal clinic at CSU (one of the best vet schools in the nation).  So, they did a full autopsy on her (and will study her organs, etc before they cremate the remains). 

She had massive inflammation of the kidneys, pancreas, liver and urinary tract caused by kidney failure.  Things were just shutting down one at a time.  The doctor said if I hadn't brought her in, she would have likely passed within a few days and been in an extreme amount of pain. 

There is always a certain amount of guilt associated with putting an animal to sleep.  Am I doing the right thing?  Who am I to "play God" and take another life, even if I think I'm doing the right thing?  Did I make the right choice?
 
With all of this information, I know I made the right choice. 

Linxi (our youngest cat) was extremely aggressive toward Cleo toward the end.  She would intentionally pick on her, start fights.  The vet said that happens sometimes when the lower cat on the totem pole senses weakness in the "queen bee" cat (which Cleo definitely was) and they try to "remove them from the back."  So, everything kind of came together for me today on this.  I feel like I can put it at rest.

I think what is a bit sad for me is that the nurse who assisted . . . well, it was her first euthanasia.  She was pretty upset by the whole thing.  I wonder if she'll remember us down the road and how it all went down in that office.  I wonder if veterinarians remember their first like that?  It was just a thought I had.

Anyway, thanks for reading.

I had to let my Miss Cleo go today.  We took her in about a month and a half ago because she was having bladder issues (and was going outside of her litter box).  The doctor said to keep an eye on it, that she was an old cat.  Old cats have problems sometimes. 

Today, she had blood in her urine and she was visibly in pain.  She had been deteriorating rapidly for the last two weeks and it was just time.

I'm very sad to see her go, but very relieved that she is not in pain anymore.  My Mousie is up there waiting for her.

I was 24 when I brought her home.  I had gone in when she was 4 weeks old to "pick my kitten" and by the time I got there, all the kittens had been chosen.  She was the runt and nobody picked her because she had opened her eyes too soon and they had crusted over.  She looked pretty hideous.  She sniffed her way over to me and just sat in my lap.  So, in a sense, I didn't pick her (or not pick her as she was the last one) but she picked me.

When I returned 2 weeks later, I saw this sassy kitten frisking around, just cute as can be.  She was the cutest one.  Another girl (who had chosen a different kitten) said, "hey, that one is the best one!  Where was she when I came to choose?"

And I said, "well her eyes were all messed up and nobody wanted her!"  Tough for the lot of ya.  I got the pick of the litter, even if she was the runt.

She had her moments.  She went through cranky phases, phases where I thought she'd hold a grudge forever, and phases where she would wear you out with her rubs and purrs.  She was also a splendid maker of "biscuits" (which is what Sam and I call it when cats knead you, or knead a blanket - they're "making biscuits!") 

Goodbye, my kitty.  You were the first cat I picked out myself, had all on my own for many years.  Near the end, you were losing your sight, could barely stand on both front legs and had a hard time jumping up anywhere.  But, you fought to the end.  I'm glad I was able to give you some peace.

Mousie is up there waiting for you . . . in that great big catbox in the sky....

What is the problem with genre fiction? 

3 of my 4 teachers spoke out vehemently against it today.  Every teacher I had in undergrad told us, "don't you dare.  Don't even try it."

Today, all I've heard is:

We don't even look at genre fiction.
It's not real fiction.
It's inferior.

Blah blah blah.

There are a few things I agree with: beginning creative writing courses should not allow genre fiction.  You're learning the basics here: plot, narrative structure, story arc, characterizations, narrative/psychic distance, tone, style, subtext, the whole shebang.  You don't need to muck up the waters with a bunch of "genre rules" (that beginning writers usually get caught up in).  I was absolutely guilty of that once upon a time--relying too much on the genre itself.

But, telling advanced students not to bother?  That frustrates the living heck out of me.

It's not that I want to write it at this point in my MFA program.  I don't--at least not for workshop.  But, when instructors become so incredibly biased against genre fiction, (without ever really being exposed to it) then that just comes across as ignorant and narrow minded.  Many writers transcend their genre . . . if they're any good.  The ones who aren't never really attract the non-genre crowd.

Hell, even Kazuo Ishiguro (who wrote Remains of the Day) came out with a little book called, Never Let Me Go about clone children whose organs were harvested and refused to call it science fiction.  Heck, he refused to call it speculative fiction. 

Why is genre fiction such a "four letter word?"  It's like these people pick up a copy of some cheap trash sci-fi and assume it represents the entirety of it. 

I just don't get it.

I attended the MFA picnic today.  One of my former teachers offered me a TA position!  It's not paid, but I'll get credit for it and I'll get experience teaching in a classroom! 

YES!!!  This is so fraggin' awesome.

Even better news?  It's an intermediate creative writing class, so no newbs with pirate/romance/sea-monster stories and such.  Well, I don't know for sure about that, but one can hope to avoid all the emo/novice/genre fiction that you usually see in an intro class. 

Weee!

Well, the Fall semester is nearing.  I begin classes on Monday.  I'm not ready.  I haven't felt this unprepared (both mentally, physically and emotionally) in a very long time.  I hope it's not a sign of burning out.  I can't burn out at this point. 

There is one class that I am desperate to get into.  There are only 10 slots and I'm hoping that someone drops it.  If I can't take it this semester then I'll be taking it during my 3rd year and will only have one semester to teach a college class or two.  I needed more experience than that.  But, with all the complications that have occurred, things have kind of gotten wonky.

So, if any of you feel like sending me magical class-mojo, please please please do.  I know you guys have made miracles happen for me in the past.  I have things set up so that I will be notified the second someone drops the class.  It's a waiting game now. 

I will be going to school every single day of the week: Monday through Friday.  I'm really not looking forward to that.  I always enjoyed keeping my school days down to 2 days.  I just can't manage it any other way right now (UNLESS I get into this class).  If that happens, I'm a happy camper.

So far, here's my schedule:

Monday / Wednesday / Friday: Technique and Form - Poetry  (11:00am to 11:50am).
Tuesdays: 11am - 2pm (literary editing internship) / 4:00 - 5:15 (Teaching Reading) / 6:50 - 10:00pm (Fiction Workshop)
Wednesday Evenings: 5:15 - 9:00pm (teach creative writing at the county jail).
Thursdays: 4:00 - 5:15 (Teaching Reading)

So, as the week progresses, things get gradually less hectic.  I'm praying that next semester I'll keep it all to a few days.  I am desperate for energy right now. 

A classmate (Jonathan) has been working with me on my food plan.  He gave me some great advice yesterday:

• More carbs in the morning / less at night
• Same with anything else that's high in sugar or fat
• Power foods are good: get as many colors of veggies/fruits as you can.

Jonathan is such a great guy.  He rarely talks in class and I always thought he was super shy.  Turns out he just doesn't do well in big groups.  He and I have hung out a few times and he's quite the chatterbox.  We definitely clicked and will continue to hang now and then.  He gives great food/exercise advice as well as writing suggestions. 

Oh, I finally got my financial aid.  Most of it is gone though.  (Bills had to be paid and I paid off 2 credit cards). 

My Fall aid comes in on the 20th.  That will take care of rent through January, the rest of my cards paid off, optical, car stuffs, etc.

We're ditching cable for DirectTV.  We can bundle and save $20 a month AND get HBO, Skinemax, STARZ, Showtime, etc.  Sweet!  AND a DVR.  Hello.  I won't miss anymore Lost, Supernatural or HBO goodies.  Mmmmmm. 

That's it for now. 

I had my sleep study last night.  After a full night's sleep, I was still waking up mega-tired and had a lot of trouble concentrating throughout the day at times.  The doctor thought I might have sleep apnea or other things going on, so she scheduled a sleep study. 

The day before I had to avoid all caffeine (not difficult as I'm not a big imbiber of caffeine), avoid naps (this one was a bit harder) and so forth.

I arrived at 8:15 pm last night in my PJ's, ready to go.  She glued all of these fangly little sensors all over my scalp, face, legs, and chest.  It wasn't too bad.  The only thing that bugged me a little was the sensor that went half in my nose, but after a while I got used to it. 

The beds were so comfortable.  They just cradled you and were so soft yet supportive.  Ahhh!  Just thinking about that bed makes me happy.

I had to be asleep by 11pm (or lights out trying to sleep by then).  I had no issue falling asleep, but the nurse came in about an hour after I was asleep and told me to lay on my back.  They wanted to see how I did on my back, on my sides, etc.  After that, I tossed and turned for about 3-4 hours (and apparently that's when I did present some mild sleep apnea).  The last few hours I slept soundly again.  I dreamed about the study so it was like I never really slept.  Ugh. 

They woke me up at 5am and unhooked me, then sent me home (where I slept for another hour before E got up). 

The nurse also said that I have "primary snoring" which isn't the kind to be worried about. 

Interesting experience.  I have to say that I was expecting to sleep a lot more during a sleep study.  Go figure.  When they had the electrodes hooked up to my head, I kept thinking, "I wonder if they can see my brainwaves change when I think about different things."  So, I thought about different stuff (and thought HARD)!  We'll see if it shows up.  See what a science moron I am?