Computer Issue, revisited

Due to frustration at technology that is not as "plug and play" as it claims to be, and due to a blue screen of death "line stack error," or some such thing, on the laptop, the retirement of the desktop will have to wait. I will just deal with the grinding noise coming from the chassis.

I am seriously considering asking some of the techie guys from work over one weekend day, paying them each $100 plus lunch, and asking them to set me up a real network, with wireless and everything. It's what I'd end up paying the Comcast guy to do it, I'm sure. I may wait until I buy the new computer, though, and do it all at once.

Computer Issues

My power went out at approximately half past midnight last night. After using my old school Nokia 6010 tank of a cell phone to light my way in the dark so that I could brush my teeth, change, and corral the dog into the bedroom, I realized that the night was lovely and silent without the hum of the myriad machines that make my life easy.

I enjoy the silence and darkness of deep night; I always have. In college, I drove my rommate bonkers because I had to tape paper bits over all the lights that stayed perpetually on, because they annoyed me when I was trying to sleep. (You know, the little green light on the computer tower and monitor, even when they go into 'sleep mode?' Those. And I stuffed a towel under our dormroom door. My silence requirements drive people nuts, too - when I lived with gaming roomies, and went to bed at odd hours because of my third shift job, I drove them insane with how finely tunes my ears were - I could hear what show they were watching in the basement, or what boss they were killing in World of Warcraft. I was a singularly bitchtastic roommate if I had to go downstairs more than once to request lowered volume. (Apologies, guys!)

So, I enjoyed the silence of last night's power outage, particularly since I was going to bed at that hour anyway, so I didn't mind that my intarwebz were unavailable and that the tv was out. I don't have cable anyway, so there was likely nothing good on. I slept like a baby, and only marginally worried about the month's worth of yogurt in the fridge, certain it would be fixed by morning. (I called the power company to be sure.)

Unfortunately, the price of said power outage is my desktop machine. The Dell I bought back in January of 2002 has been getting more and more wonky lately - MS Word won't work at all, it restarts itself on random occasions, and occasionally makes noises like the elves inside are fighting their version of the Peloponnesian war. When I restarted my computer this morning, the computer sounded a bit like a motor gone wrong (though now that it's been on a few hours the noise level has declined some). I took this as a hint that my sturdy electronic steed would not last me until June, and have now set up my laptop to have access to the internet through an ethernet cable, since I have no wireless router yet.

To be honest, not having the internet at home doesn't affect my writing much, since I'm old fashioned and only work in paper until I get a decent draft finished. What it *does* affect is my ability to bring up the TV Guide for the evening, chat with friends, indulge my Gmail email-checking obsession, and generally feel like I'm connected to the world somehow. I need internet because I'm addicted to my email, chatting with friends I can't afford to travel to see, and because it's primary season, damnit, and I don't have cable.

I am currently typing this post on my desktop, which is grinding with Sisyphian effort in a particularly annoying key. *And* I just realized that I never plugged the ethernet cable into my laptop, so I've been pirating someone's weak wireless signal, explaining the slow ass downloading of the antivirus and firefox. Plugging the cable in, however, did not result in a working hard connection. WTF.

I use computers for work. I can learn new software and usually implement it fairly painlessly. Usually, since everything I use is point and click, for the most part. This is the sort of thing I hate - stumbling through actual hardware setup junkness. And it won't renew my IP address for the hard line to the laptop, wants me to contact my ISP, who will charge me an arm and a leg to do this for me. AUGH. My "plug & play" Linksys Cable Modem doesn't 'play,' and the laptop doesn't see it. Despite the fact that they're connected with a cord.

Both of these computers are becoming more highly at risk of taking a long walk off my short windowsill.

When The Poetess is in a Feel-Good Mood

When I'm in a feelgood mood, this is exactly how I feel on the inside. Nevermind that I am in jeans, a lilac blouse and a purple sweater, wearing clunky Danskos. This is who I am in my head, and we all know that's who we really are. And so yes, I am a naughty little minx of a woman in a slinky black dress and almost too-high heels, in red lipstick, lacy matching undies, and swinging one foot from the stool, because I'm short, and my feet never reach the floor. I just dress like this to keep everyone from being overwhelmed.

Feelgood Poem

Lookit how hot I am,
I'm like a big plate of YES
sittin' right here
with my legs crossed
and my eyes narrowed
in my black skirt
and my good bra
tracing your name in the air
with my dangling high heel

More Acceptances!

"Disobedience" has been published in volume 5, issue 1 of kaleidowhirl, and is available for public consumption and critique here. Now that it's out I can see a hundred revisions I'd like to make, but I did consider it a personal success, since I rarely like to work in a rhyme scheme.

Quiddity Literary Journal has accepted two poems, "Wavewalk" and "Flagrant" for their inaugural print issue coming out this spring, and I am ecstatic to have placed two pieces in a single publication.

Appalachian Heritage, another print journal, has accepted my poem "Dinner for One," which will appear in the Spring 2008 issue. I'm tickled to place a piece in a Kentucky-based journal, since I spent so many years in the state and still consider it home.

Most of my other submissions have been rejected, though there are a handful I'm still waiting to hear from. It's past time I sent out another spate of submissions, but I've been too exhausted lately, and busy keeping caught up on MFA work. Librarian-type stuff has been keeping me quite busy, and I've got the Meacham Writers' Conference this weekend, but perhaps next weekend I can dedicate solely to writing and sending out submissions. I'm actually quite proud of some of my more recent pieces, and am hoping to place them in good journals.

Anyway, that's the good news for now. I've been so tired that my happy dance has worn off, but when I stop to remember these, I still smile. Yay, publishing! Now, who wants to make me an offer for my chapbooks?

A Letter to my Sister Jezebel

Thanks to the kind words of a friend who provided some feedback on a couple of poems ("For my Unborn Sons" and "For my Unborn Daughters"), I now have Lilith on the brain. You know, Lilith, demon-lady of legend who was Adam's original wife? (All you devout Catholics, cover your ears while the heathens discuss.) Oh yes, according to legend, Adam's first wife was created from earth just as Adam himself was. When the uppity b*tch claimed to be his equal, he ran to God and expressed his dismay. Lilith was schlepped out to the desert (and subsequently turned into a baby-stealing demon by the bookwriters) to make room for the more subservient Eve.

If you know me, you can see why a mention of writing from Lilith's perspective is something I would find attractive. *grin* Anyway, this has a whole new idea stewing in my brain (which hardly has space for new ideas, so some not-so-great ideas have been abandoned to the ether). Hm, writing from Lilith's perspective. The idea fascinates me. I do believe I'm going to give it a shot. I had posted here "A Letter to my Sister Jezebel," but I deleted it while I wrangle with it in the revision stage. I tend to suffer from the plague of trying to tell too much story in a single poem - working on that!

Write the Poem that's Impossible to Write

This is the advice given by Earl Braggs in my workshop. "Write the poem that is impossible to write." It's good advice, since it tells us to stretch beyond the boundaries we have imposed on ourselves, and discover just how good we can be. It's good advice also because it gives us permission to fall short without feeling like utter failures. I know I've felt that way when I've failed to capture what I was after, and wanted to exchange my pen and paper for a hammer and nails and do something else, because I was obviously never going to be a good writer.

I have taken this challenge on, in spades. There is a poem I have always wanted to write, and have shied from, because it's too massive a subject. I will undoubtedly get it wrong. But it burns in me, it keeps me awake, and it niggles at the edges of my mind when I should be concentrating on other things, like how much detergent to put in the washing machine. I want to write an epic poem that captures the voices of women across time, imparts the pride, pain, joy and suffering of women of all colors and backgrounds, and would make each of us proud to stand and recite it. I even have the title: Womansong. probably not terribly original, that, but it encompasses what I want to capture.

I've made a first pass at it, this week. I like parts of it very much, other parts I'm not certain about. It moves through history, but I'm feeling rather shamed for having the hubris to say I can speak for all women. Others have, so I don't know why I'm so reluctant to do so. Should I call out places by name? Should I set it all in the present even though some of the happenstances have passed? Moving back and forth between tenses was annoying me when I re-read it, and I want each of the women that the poem evokes to be alive, so present tense feels more natural for that. Do I have too many biblical references in it? Does the poem lose potency when it's as long as this (currently four pages)? Most of all, who have I left out? I think that's the one I'm most afraid of. I can cull pieces if I must, but I don't want to leave something out that's essential.

I have the feeling this one is going to be a work-in-progress for a very long time. As well it should be, I suppose, for such subject matter. And despite all of my misgivings, I'm pleased to be writing it - writing an Impossible Poem means that it's an important poem. Maybe there is no 'right' way to write such a thing, but acknowledging that it needs to be written - and that yours might be the hand to set it down - is an important step.

Acceptances Galore: A Day of Hearts, Flowers, and Goodwill Towards Editors

Because we, as writers, generally spend our time moping over our mountains of rejections, which I will eventually fall into in this blog, I'm sure, I'd like to take this chance to celebrate a few weeks that have gone really well. My work is being picked up like hotcakes. Which I've never purchased or eaten, but I hear that if your stuff sells like them, it means you're doing well. So, hotcakes it is.

I've had two essays accepted for an anthology, Milestones for American Women: Our Defining Passages. Rumor has it that Knopf may pick it up to publish it, which would be a wonderful coup. That, and the former ALA president is slated to write the afterword. Librarians unite in your bookery! I don't think my prose is as well-formed as my poetry, but I am sincerely flattered that the editors were kind enough to offer some revisions and kind words.

I've been notified that though the Winter 2008 issue of the online journal kaleidowhirl has been slightly delayed, it will indeed be out sometime soon, and my piece "Disobedience" will be published shortly.

Ruminate Magazine will be publishing my poem "Refrigerator Borealis" in its next issue with the theme of 'addiction.'

Upon returning from work this afternoon, I checked my gmail account (which I do compulsively, for all those who care to toss em a line), and was thrilled to find that the editors of Quiddity literary journal want not one, but two of my poems for their inaugural issue for spring 2008. No contract or anything definitive beyond that email yet, so it's not set in stone, but goodness willing, "Flagrant" and "Wavewalk" will soon have a home in an honest-to-goodness university-published print literary journal. Since to date I've been accepted only in online journals and one faith-based print mag, this is a huge occurrence for me, book-snob librarian that I am. (Not that I don't appreciate the online works - I very much do, and appreciate the access they provide. But print is one step closer to my coveted ISBN!)

I'd like to send a warm thanks to all of those editors (who have also received my profuse thanks via email) for their kind words and support. We all know how down we get upon receipt of the form letter rejections in our hastily scrawled SASEs, and I've received a number of those back over the past few weeks as well. But the successes really do outshine the failures, and even one placement gives me the courage to send out a new batch of pieces I am very attached to, even in the face of overwhelming odds. Thank you to all of the kind editors out there - you make writing more fulfilling because you are willing to slog through the mountains of work you receive. Thank you to the subscribers that keep journals in the black (or close to it) so that we can continue to not only get published as writers, but also read our contemporaries' work. And thank you, Lovely Readers, without whom our work would float into the atmosphere, having never been discussed or appreciated.

Yep, I'm in a total Kumbaya mood. A total "let's kiss and hug and all vote for Obama" mood. (At least, I hear that's what happiness feels like.) If I was a supervisor, this would very much be the day that you wanted to ask for a raise. Alas, I hold no such pecuniary powers. You all will have to settle for knowing that I am sending general goodwill vibes into the ether, and wishing you much luck with your own writing.