Upon my return from VN I thought things would work out without my necessarily needing to play an active role, kind of passivity I have gotten upset with other people over. I cut myself some slack. Then I began applying and applying for jobs.
Prospects: teaching Expository Writing to freshmen at Lakeland College in Sheboygan, WI, and teaching inmates at a minimum security correctional facility in Gordon, WI.
Duluth (45 mi. away)
At work, I get into an argument with another server about the way in which I roll silverware. She tells me the way I do it provides a greater chance for them to come undone. I suppose she is right. And yet. When I look the pieces all lined up, I know they are not going to.
Last night was the last night of AirVenture 2011, aka EAA, where I worked as a cashier selling reusable cleaning cloths! Some highlights were riding my bike in past all the cars in the morning, chatting with the prop technicians in the booth next door from Redding, CA, and, having worked the day, going out in the boat with EP and Jeff and watching the vintage aircrafts fly over Lake Winnebago from the water.
They were fast!
But, alas, another cobbled-together job has come to an end and now I find in front of me the only road left, the Real Job, the job that I can find and then relax, the job that I can be at Peace with. I have a new Degree and no debt, and also no money which leaves me feeling like I am sitting on one of those little cloths I was selling, my butt hanging over the sides. It is very well-constructed, but how does it get off the ground?
A moment can move on and still stay with us, it’s one of the most beautiful things in life, Robert Hass’ Mississippi John Hurt lines in the poem about his brother, Ryan Gosling honoring the spirit of Patrick Swayze in his recent film, and in a thirty-three year-old, not-even-really girl anymore, back to the drawing board again, or perhaps there, officially, for the first time, thinking back on what she has to give to the next phase of life.
In Istanbul post-undergrad/pre-graduate school I taught English, wrote in my journal, and watched the O.C.
…and the little book I came across last night that reminded me of those days. Maybe it’s a non-sequitor, but I just don’t want to forget her.
Time to start looking for what’s out there. No pressure in a bad way. I’m looking everywhere…
Wow, it has been a year since I landed in HCMC and added Saigon to Ramona Forever. Whoever is still following this blog since then, thank you, thank you, my friend.
What a year. Now a year ago I am awake my first day there, typing on this blog on the computer in the Van Trang, scared to go outside, texting Rufus. Knowing what I know now, I should have been more scared to stay in the Van Trang.
Like so many things, including this time of life, if it were possible to know how it all turned out, I mean how non-threatening it all was (what did I think was going to happen to me?) I just would have loved all of the good stuff even more, one text to a friend that gets a call.
So it is still cold in Wisconsin, it is supposed to freeze tonight actually, Memorial Day weekend. I really feel as though I have had a whole winter, and I got home in March. Should be interesting to see what happens next year…
and just for old time’s sake:
About me practice, spring ’11:
Gardener/lawn mower, bridesmaid, Master of Fine Arts, Adult Health Literacy Instructor, moth, kitten, and seal lover, poet.
Watched BIG FISH tonight, went to a bar called Diamond Dave’s, and afterwards for a walk down by a lake. My dad pointed out this crane and let me sneak up on it from three docks away with my camera knowing all the while it was a decoy.
I leave Tuesday, it is now Friday. Tired of talking about leaving; just need to do it. Tonight went to an art opening in Omro: very realistic paintings of birds, and this poem
“True Love:” It’s impossible.
Ritz crackers with melted cheese. I should have stayed longer.
Leaving, even the breeze is amazing. I love it here at my dad’s house.
And I remember this time I walked across a beach to a high dive, climbed the ladder, and something inside me said “go off backwards” so i lined up my toes up on the edge just like in the Olympics and did it.
You should know that I stole your Bon Iver cd but the joke was on me because I also left my laptop in Ted’s minivan and then destroyed my iPod with water.
What have I done, not done, it is all so crystallized, melodramatic, senseless. For some reason I keep thinking of the time we talked about Aspen trees, so here is a picture of some at my dad’s.
Hope all is well w/ you, your Robert Lowell glasses and your half-cafs.
Weird to think that when you read this I’ll be on the other side of the planet, but it’s just proximity.