i have to say . . .

. . . that so far the semester is going really well. My students are great, their classes coalescing and morphing into these mini-think tanks of creative writing. My own classes are supremely satisfying, more so than any previous semester. Most of this has to do with me and not necessarily the classes I took previously. I feel more grounded this year, more in control of my surroundings and committed to the writing. And I really just love being in school. The phd is starting to sound really tempting again, although I feel it would back-burner my writing.

Speaking of the writing, I need to get some discipline in terms of making regular hours to sit down and face the computer. I don't have writer's block - I have writer's aversion.

But I am very stoked about teaching.

it is officially stupid . . .

. . . driver day. I don't even want to get into the details, I just want to have a chauffeur.

I have been considering expanding the menagerie by one. I think that another rodent would do fabulously in the house, and am jonesing after a hairless rat. They are my favorite, with the soft skin and the delicate features. Alas, I would prefer to rescue (believe it or not but rat rescues do exist mostly from unwanted litters or from health issues or behavior issues) but there are no local rescues. And the pet stores (which I shudder to think of buying from, but it may come to that) don't carry hairless rats. At any rate, I'm on the lookout if anyone comes across one.

I finally have things to be doing; papers to be grading, poems to be writing and reading, and other various projects. This transition into the school year has been rough on Buddha, who wants me there all day. He was rather ornery this morning with me since I left him most of the day yesterday. Mondays are my busy days. There is no way to explain this to him, of course.

Off to teach in fifteen.

reality check . . .

. . . Alberto Gonzales is gone. Bush said his name was dragged through the mud. That poor, mistreated man. I feel sorry for him. Oh wait. No I don't.

Another misguided soul, Michael Vick, says he rejects dogfighting and is sorry. Yeah, sorry his ass was caught. I am also a but perturbed at the NAACP, an organization I think very highly of, is coming to Vick's defense. Whatever. That is a sign that the organization needs to rethink their priorities. Defending an animal killer/abuser/exploiter is not one of them.

Sometimes this world is too much. I have been thinking of my carbon print lately, ways to reduce it. Funny how little things snowball on you. It starts with one thing, organic shampoo, and moves on to organic flour. The range of healthy products is astounding. Car companies are starting to figure it out. Homeowners too. But still...there is too much waste. Recycling needs to be mandatory. Think of the resources we waste.

Okay, enough. I am just in one of those funky moods where I find that the last three things I bought at Target were made in China and it bothers me. Big question day here at the blog.

First classes that I am actually taking start today. Now that will be good. I really do love school.

today is a lazy day . . .

. . . complete with a really bad night's sleep. All my pets are in great moods though and you can't beat that. It is also rainy, which is fabulous.

I am reading this really interesting book on religion by Karen Armstrong called A History of God. So far I am quite impressed. There is so much I do not know.

yesterday . . .

. . . I gave in and went to Best Buy and bought a new laptop. I consider it an investment in my writing. (Because, apparently, I am a very high maintenance poet who needs a really big hard drive in order to compose my usual 25 line poem.) Normally I would have been very excited about such a purchase and ripped into that box immediately. Didn't happen. Too much stuff to do. At about 10pm I was ready to set it up. I opened the box, admired the shiny new casing, the smooth design, the lightness; I wondered over the bizarre 12 cell battery which protruded from the bottom to give the laptop 'lift' and then I turned that sucker on.

Yes.

And then I noticed it was the wrong computer. The number on the computer didn't match the box. It figures. So that (lower performance) laptop will be going back today.

Other news: not really any. Class this morning. Best Buy this afternoon. Rain dance later in the day.

needless to say . . .

. . . but the seven a.m. wake-up call did not last.

seven . . .

. . . in the morning. This is when I have been waking up the past two days. Mostly I have this idea about creating some self discipline and doing at least an hour of writing in the morning. The first day worked out pretty well. Today my computer acted up on me, refusing to open Word. Is this a sign? Do I need a new computer? Do I need to ignore the morning hours? Hmmm.

Classes start Wednesday.

I have been missing my dogs. A lot. Below is a picture of Gizelle. I hear she helped herself to some freshly cooked food on the counter the other day. Lol. Now that's my girl.

the war czar . . .

. . . sounds like a great title for a book, no? Well, in actuality, we have a war czar, and this war czar has apparently advised that Bush guy that we should consider reinstilling the draft. Yes, the draft.

But it's okay. Really. Because Bush, in his usual manner of being dead-on in his reasoning and rational and ultimately, his policy, has said that he doesn't think we need the draft. Phew. Load off my mind.

In other not so new news - it is hot. The heat 'broke' today and is just going to be 90 degrees. Yesterday, traveling on Oleander, the bank's temperature sign said it was 100 degrees. I believe it.

In the paper today there was a story about a new hang out spot for Emirates in Dubai. It is basically a freezer, where everything is made of ice. Everything. You pay your money, get a parka and some real shoes, and then you get to sit around on blocks of ice and enjoy the freezing temperatures. This is from the same city that brought snow to the Middle East. I cannot even begin to explain the enigma that Dubai is. It is this rushing amalgam of people, all different kinds, existing together in a hot desert. Nothing is hidden. It is all there to be seen. The buildings, the people, the wealth, the poverty. It is basically insane, and I want to go back, and stay for a while. There is a story there, I can feel it. (Of course, I think this about everything. Ah, the grocery store. Bet there's something interesting going on!)

the devil came on horseback . . .

. . . I went to the free screening at UNCW's Lumina Theatre last night, and I was glad I did. The genocide in Darfur is happening today. It was happening yesterday, and will continue tomorrow.

One of the things I am leery about whenever I get involved in some sort of community activism, is the overwhelming nature of the problems that we create for ourselves. I watched this movie, the pictures of the dead bodies, little girls burned alive, whole villages annihilated, the janjaweed (the Khartoum funded Arab militias sent to do the killing, paid in looting rights) admitting to their role openly, and I wonder, Well fuck. What am I supposed to do about it?

So it isn't an easy thing to deal with. Once you have seen these pictures, once you know that right now someone is being killed with no chance of protection (because this is a systematic killing, earning the name of genocide, and absolutely requiring our government's intervention), once you know all of this, you can't ever go back to not knowing. And therein lies the hopelessness. What can I do? I have no power. I cannot simply pack up, move to Darfur, buy a gun, and sit entry at the villages.

But what I can do is to tell people about it. I can tell my elected officials that this matters very much to me. I can write letters to three people: my representative Mike McIntyre, and my two senators, Elizabeth Dole and Richard Burr. Yes, they are both Republicans, but in my experience with government, political affiliation means absolutely dick when it comes to listening to their constituents. The noisier you are, the more response you get.

I could stop there, with three letters, but why? Let's face it: elections are coming up. I haven't heard anything about Darfur so far from the candidates. I have heard a lot about Iraq though. Last I checked the Iraqis were not hell bent on genocide. Last I checked both sides were well equipped with guns. And the truth is, we don't really know who the bad guy is over there, because there really is not one. We can blame it on the insurgency, but the insurgency is both Sunni and Shiite.

I am digressing here, but the point is, no one seems to know what is really going on in the world, and this irritates me. We elect our leaders based on whether they think abortion is wrong or not. In what moral world does abortion trump the mass killing of an entire people? I am sick of playing games with rhetoric people. Republicans are too greedy and conservative to act ethically at home and abroad, and Democrats are too busy playing the rhetoric game to find their balls and take some action. Everyone wants to hold on to their power, or get more power than they currently have.

So I am writing my letters. And next time I register to vote, I am registering as an Independent. I don't need a party line to tell me what I should think is an important issue. And to you, who read this whole thing (thank you), don't believe for a minute that your opinion doesn't matter. We are lucky to live in this flawed country, and yet I can feel no pride in being American, while my government ignores the genocide. We swore to Always Remember, didn't we? What fools. We should have sworn to Always Act.

Save Darfur.

i (heart) charles simic. . .

. . . so it is fairly lovely news that he is to be the new Poet Laureate. Simic's poetry is influential to me, in that I feel his verse is profound in both the lyricism/imagery and the political ideology, whether one wants to call it ideology or not - perhaps humanity is a better word. Either way, he makes me want to be a better poet, and because I believe that being a poet is more than just writing, it is a way of looking at life, of engaging in life, of being aware in all the senses, I am excited to see that perhaps the discussion of modern poetry can perhaps be refocused to poetry itself, and not the same old boring po-biz discussions of who has what money and bringing poetry to the masses as it used to be in the good old days (and what days were these, I ask) and finally, to look beyond one's own petty agenda that puts the biz in po-biz in the first place. Who the hell cares? I just want to read some good poetry and theory. I am tired of the publishing end of things, and the brouhaha over Academia: Devil Poetry, or Devil-May-Care Poetry?

And yada yada yada.

the most awesome . . .

. . . museum in Florence. Yes, the Uffizi is nice too. But sometimes you just want to see dead animals and giant, scary bugs. This was a highlight of my trip this year, and I highly recommend it. I can't get the giant rhino out of my head, and sadly, the website does not show him. I'll take pictures next time.