Hey all - I know I've been pretty spastic about the quality and quantity of posting.  Hopefully that should clear up in a few weeks when I start working less.  I finished a devil paper that I've been working on for weeks for the literature class I'm taking - literally, it was of the DEVIL and would not work.  But it's DONE!  And submitted, and all I have left is the final, then I can apply for grad school once I have the transcripts.  Sheesh. 

As far as the publications, I know I keep getting excited about it, but over the past five months, I have made 205 (I keep track on a spreadsheet) submissions with about 19 separate pieces of poetry, fiction and non-fiction, and have had 6 acceptances.  I'm not sure what percentage that makes, I'm sure D could figure it out.  I'm trying to work now toward what I consider higher tier journals and magazines, working my way up the totem pole.  After finishing the class I want to spend a lot of the summer focused intensly on writing.  I'm not calling myself a writer yet, but I want to keep taking tangible steps towards it.

I've been feeling happy as hell lately - seriously motivated and in a much better mood than all winter.  I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm looking forward to summer, even summer here in Texas.  It's been in the 90's this week, and I know that's a weak harbinger of what's to come.  But still, the heat and sunshine is so damn cheerful, I can't help being happy about it.

Another acceptance into a literary journal - Paradigm! It's for a short non-fiction piece about the bittersweet tension of being a mother with a chronic illness.

I wrote this piece a couple of months ago, but have been especially reminded of how much I hate being sick lately. I've been sick for 8 years now, and the anger at it comes in waves - there's months when my norm seems like normal to me - as if, of course I walk around tired and weak and unable to do things other mothers can do - of course that's normal. And then there are days and weeks and months where I wish illness was a tangible thing that I could beat to a pulp and scream at for what it has stolen from me.

But then of course, it's not a tangible thing, only as tangible as my body, and hating my body as if it were a separate entity from me, the real, true me inside - dude, that's kind of fucked up. Lately I've been trying to come to terms that I can't separate my identity from my body - that I am both mind AND body, even though I'd rather only identify myself in terms of the former. I've been stretching and lotioning and got a new large beautiful tattoo - like I'm reclaiming territory, or at least control, of this physical body that so often feels like the enemy. But then the damn body kicks back, like this week when I tried to do too much light excersize, and the rage starts up all over again.

Anyway!  My piece is going to be included in thier spring issue, which is going to be published online next week - I'll post a link when it arrives!

Things are coming to a head again with my Chronic Fatigue & Immune Dysfunction Syndrome.  Various things lately have just started making me NOT okay with being sick.  It's such a debihiliating thing, but one I feel embarrased talking about.  I didn't even tell them at work until after 6 months when it began interfering with my ability to work.  I'm so sensitive about being called hypochondriac, or seen as lazy, or making excuses - because when I got sick, eight years ago, that was the only reaction I recieved, from doctors, and even from close friends and family.  But then sitting around trying to justify, No, THIS IS REAL! just enforces those stereotypes even more.

In my day to day life, I avoid talking about it as much as possible, even with friends.  When I finally tell someone, I have carefully prepared explanations that speak to its validity by pointing out the factual physiological symptoms: So I have this chronic illness where I get easily exhausted and dizzy.  There's a problem at the adrenal level where the adrenal glands are over-active, as if fighting off a virus, even though no virus has been detected.  But because of this, I often run a fever and have muscle weakness and sensitivity.  I was in a research study for CFS at the DePaul University in Chicago and was in wheelchair for several years, and bed-bound for about a year after that.  In the past three years, I have gotten a lot more mobile, started working some, started trying to get into school.

It's not as bad as other diseases.  I am incredibly lucky in light of life-threatening diseases, illnesses, cancer, and degenerative diseases.  I can be a mother and still achieve the new goals I have created for myself.  But I cannot work, or hold down a part time job, at least not for very long.  I cannot clean my house or do household chores.  I cannot solely take care of my child for long stretches at a time.

I keep trying to pretend that I am okay, that I am normal, that I can do things that everyone else can do.  It's like I believe the reactions I got - that this is not real, that I'm making a big deal out of nothing.  But after working four hours last Saturday sitting down here at my job here at the call center, when my hands were shaking with exhaustion, and I felt nauseaus with exhaustion, when I was crying uncontrolably this morning driving into work because this is my long 9 hour day, and I don't know how I'm going to get through it - I just need to step back and say, stop, hold it.  You are sick.  You cannot do the things regular people can do. You cannot do this.  You keep pushing, trying to deny that you are sick, and it keeps kicking you in the ass.

All this to say, I'm thinking of giving my two weeks notice, but then, I don't know what the hell will happen with our finances.  Dragos is getting a raise, so that might help, and its gonna reach a point where it doesn't even matter if it means we have to take on a little debt again, somethings gotta give.  At least CFIDS is gaining more and more recognition as a valid disability.  Certain cases are eligible for disability and social security. More research is being done to objectively diagnose.  This from the CFIDS Association of America:

I just came across a good Newsweek article about the commercial/literary divide in literature. And this is a question I hear more and more - Is reading a good end, in and of itself, or is reading so-called fluff or escapist literature little better than just watching tv?  Or is reading just for fun good because it is a potential "gateway drug" to more premium, difficult literature? Or is it just another brain-sapping activity?

In the article, Zadie Smith is quoted as saying, "readers fail when they allow themselves to believe that fiction is the thing you relate to and writers the amenable people you seek out when you want to have your own version of the world confirmed and reinforced."

I think this is a valid point, especially about the nature of comfortable reading that only reinforces ones already-entrenched worldviews and values. At the same time, so much high-brow literary fiction is just so damn boring. Neither the story-lines, nor the language-usage is interesting or beautiful. For example, I read Zadie Smith's White Teeth. And I didn't like it all - I thought there were several bizarre story-lines that were held together by the contrived image of "teeth" in a novel that did shed light on a culture I was not familiar with, but felt overall pointless.

What drives me crazy is that there appears to be so little dialogue about creating a middle ground. Because each side is indignant and defensive against the other, calling each other alternately sell-outs or snobs, the accessible well-written fiction is hard to find. Why do we have to be afraid of literature that is enjoyable? Why is it either "genre" fiction or "literary" fiction (I mean, literary fiction is pretty defined by what it is NOT, i.e., NOT genre fiction)? Why don't MFA programs allow genre writers in? How do we expect to get better written genre writing, or more interesting and accessible literary fiction, or better yet, blurring the line so completely that its not entirely identifiable as one or the other?

Here's the link to the article: http://www.newsweek.com/id/193475

I've been feeling very blogg-y all of the sudden, ever since my sister-in-law wrote and asked why I wasn't blogging as much, and I was surprised I'd gone almost a month without blogging!  It's been an odd winter, down in the dumps, and one I'll be happy to put behind me.  The world seems to be perking up again - due in part to me working fewer hours, part because the weather is warming up, and warmer weather means a new shoulder tattoo! in the next couple weeks, and partiallty because it means I'm that much closer to getting to quit and focus just on school next fall.

I looked at the course schedule and I'm eyeing a Literary Scholarship class and a History Of Children's Lit class.  It will be exciting to finally be taking grad school classes after all this waiting and prep - finishing the other 4 undergrad lit classes as prerequisites (all but the last one anyway, which is almost done).  And working so much has been really hard on my body.  I just don't have the stamina for a 20-25hr a week job, but I'm trying to barrell on through, which feels easier when there's finally an end in sight.

So, in a new episode of neurosis, I have started grinding my teeth when I sleep and doing this weird tensing-my-jaw constantly when I'm awake.  D told me I was audibly grinding my teeth while I sleep the other night, and I was suprised.  Plus, during the day, I can feel myself holding my jaw all tense, but can't concentrate to relax it, which makes me even more neurotic about it, which makes it tense even more!

You know how when you are all focused on one body twitch it's impossible to relax it?  To where you can't even remember what is the relaxed, normal way to hold one's jaw?  Yeah, it's weird, and I'm attributing it to underlying stress while I wait for a second acceptance from one of the damn literary magazines - some of the irons in the fire should be coming up with a response this week, and it's driving me crazy.  And inducing me to a penchant for Advil to calm down my aching jaw and neck.

Other than that, life's good.  I finished the numbers obsessed story, titled "The Numeric Plague" and edited it like hell all weekend, then sent it out about 8 places.  I think it's the smartest thing I've written, and with the actual rising action, big climax thing, along with intentential irony throughout.  I won't hear back about that one for 2 months though, so the waiting game continues, and continues, and continues... Have I mentioned I am not a patient person? 

I'm also nothing if not stubborn, so even if it all comes up rejections, I'll keep pounding away at it, re-editing, writing new stuff.  I'm not sure if that makes me an optimist or a masochist.

Wow, over a month since I last posted.  Though I realized that I've been either working or resting lately, neither of which are condusive to coherent blogging.  Lots has happened since I last posted - I did not get into the MFA program I was hoping for, so that seriously bummed me out for awhile, but I'm still writing and submitting stuff around to literary journals.  All of the stuff I've sent out for has a 3 month turn around, so I've haven't heard anything else back yet. 

So I'll be going with Plan B -  enrolling in the Master's inLit program this Fall, which I know I'll be accepted for.  I cut my hair very short and extended the pink.  My four year old has finally transitioned out of toddler bed and into a regular size twin bed - he's getting so damn grown up lately.  Dragos is taking 2 grad school classes, working over-time, working as a grader, and doing research as part of his research assistant position.  Yeah, I don't see very much of him!  But it's good, and we try to carve out a little time here and there together.

Meanwhile, I'm working almost 30 hours a week, which is psycho for my body to attempt, but I've been very pleased that I've been able to holdup and stay pretty strong, though I spend most of my off time resting and sleeping. But still, I never thought my body would be able to handle working so many hours, so I'm glad for that, even if I know it wouldn't be wise to keep it up in the long term.  I'm trying to work more now so that we can save up and when I start school in the fall I can stop work completely so I'll have enough energy to focus on school.  I've had about a month to chew on it, and Plan B still seems exciting.

I'll try not to be so much of a stranger around here!!