In other news, this week has been interesting, in like, a bad way. Our house was broken into on Monday. It was scary, but everything is fine. They didn't even let the cats out. They only took a couple laptops, my sister's Ipod, and our digital camera, so it could have been way worse. I was the one who discovered the break in. Let me break it down for you.
These are the steps I went through to realize we had been burgled. Please note that the entire process probably took less than five minutes, but it seemed much longer than that.
1) Upon opening the front door, I realized that the house smelled like beer. "That's strange," I thought, "maybe Bobby spilled when he took out the recycling last night?"
2) Opening the sliding glass door onto the porch I noticed a piece of cement brick on the rug. "Huh," I thought, "now why would Bobby leave that there? That's weird."
3) Upon discovering the utility closet door was closed, and so the cats wouldn't have been able to get to their litter boxes. "Why would Bobby leave that door closed? What a jerk! What about the poor kitties?"
4) Going over to the door to get my bike, I realized the door is not locked. "Oh man, that guy's on a role today! Bobby was supposed to lock this and he didn't. Man."
5) Upon turning around and realizing there is glass everywhere and the cat door is shattered. "Ohhhhhhhh. Not Bobby. Ha. Burglar."
The whole time it was Bobby's fault. I just think that's funny. But anyway, the cops came with the crime scene guy. The most annoying part was cleaning up the broken glass. Bobby makes home brew beer, and he had some in the closet. Apparently when they were rifling through our stuff, the burglar knocked a big bottle of home brew down and it shattered all over everything. There were even pieces of glass in my shoes.
So. I'm about to go teach my last class before spring break. I'm trying to think how I can incorporate this whole burglary into my lecture. Because I think it might be funny. And it speaks to the importance of point of view; imagine this story from my point of view, then from Bobby's, Laura's, the cats, the hamster, the burglar....
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Okay, you win this time, Dentist
So, it's been awhile, eh? So sorry about that, things have been very busy here for me. I know you've been on the edge of your seat, wondering what I have to say about teaching in a circle? Am I right?
I'm right, right?
Thought so!
Or not, but either way, dear reader, please forgive my inattention to this dusty little blog. Okay! For the record, teaching in a circle is interesting. I think it's better for workshopping (yes, it is a verb, you must, you know, learn to deal with that) creative writing than it is for actual lecturing. And it's funny, my kids said as much. We'd been workshopping their creative nonfiction essays for a couple weeks and were returning back to lecture. "I like it better in rows for this," I heard one of them say to another.
And you know what? I agree. It's easier to command their attention, I think, and to get them to focus. This is a bit of an unhappy realization for me, however, as my favorite classes as an undergraduate were taught in a circle.
Maybe after teaching for a few more years.... So, why the weird subject line? It's because today is Bobby and my three year anniversary, and we celebrated in the time worn fashion of getting cavities filled together. So romantic. But now my mouth is k-i-l-l-i-n-g (it's more dramatic spelled out I think) me. To death! So I called my dentist, and he said I might need a root canal instead.
Oh brother. Does he know that next week is spring break? That I hate dentists? That I have so much work to do and no time for mouth pain to distract me? What about me, dentist? Why don't you ever think about my needs?!
Ahem. But yeah. If it's this pain now verses a root canal which will hurt like crazy and then actually stop hurting, then I'll take the gosh darn root canal.
Really, Mary? Really? Gosh darn? So that's where we're at today. It's good that I know this now. You see, it's the mouth pain. It' s worming its way into my brain.
Guess what! I get to teach creative writing again in the summer and then in the fall. I am so happy. And I continue to be happy and grateful every day that I have this job that I love so. Yesterday I was talking to my creative writing kids:
"Are you excited to be going back to the workshop format?"
They all express differing levels of delight and apprehension.
"But, like," one of them says to me, "can I write something weird?"
"That's what we've been talking about, remember? Nontraditional stories and more traditional ones? You can do whatever you want in your short story, as long as the story has earned it."
"What if I want to change the perspective half way through?" another asks.
"Same thing. We learn the rules to better understand writing, but it doesn't mean you can't break them."
"And do I have to, like, use dialogue if I don't want to?" asks another.
"For heaven's sake. No, you don't have to, you can pick from the narrative modes that you want to incorporate, and dialogue doesn't have to be one of them as long as the story works without it."
They are so afraid to break the "rules," and at the same time so excited. I'm looking forward to this second round of workshopping. I know that many of them took the class because they want to write fiction. It should be fun.
That is, if I can enjoy it. If this pain would please-and-thank-you-very-much go away.
I'm right, right?
Thought so!
Or not, but either way, dear reader, please forgive my inattention to this dusty little blog. Okay! For the record, teaching in a circle is interesting. I think it's better for workshopping (yes, it is a verb, you must, you know, learn to deal with that) creative writing than it is for actual lecturing. And it's funny, my kids said as much. We'd been workshopping their creative nonfiction essays for a couple weeks and were returning back to lecture. "I like it better in rows for this," I heard one of them say to another.
And you know what? I agree. It's easier to command their attention, I think, and to get them to focus. This is a bit of an unhappy realization for me, however, as my favorite classes as an undergraduate were taught in a circle.
Maybe after teaching for a few more years.... So, why the weird subject line? It's because today is Bobby and my three year anniversary, and we celebrated in the time worn fashion of getting cavities filled together. So romantic. But now my mouth is k-i-l-l-i-n-g (it's more dramatic spelled out I think) me. To death! So I called my dentist, and he said I might need a root canal instead.
Oh brother. Does he know that next week is spring break? That I hate dentists? That I have so much work to do and no time for mouth pain to distract me? What about me, dentist? Why don't you ever think about my needs?!
Ahem. But yeah. If it's this pain now verses a root canal which will hurt like crazy and then actually stop hurting, then I'll take the gosh darn root canal.
Really, Mary? Really? Gosh darn? So that's where we're at today. It's good that I know this now. You see, it's the mouth pain. It' s worming its way into my brain.
Guess what! I get to teach creative writing again in the summer and then in the fall. I am so happy. And I continue to be happy and grateful every day that I have this job that I love so. Yesterday I was talking to my creative writing kids:
"Are you excited to be going back to the workshop format?"
They all express differing levels of delight and apprehension.
"But, like," one of them says to me, "can I write something weird?"
"That's what we've been talking about, remember? Nontraditional stories and more traditional ones? You can do whatever you want in your short story, as long as the story has earned it."
"What if I want to change the perspective half way through?" another asks.
"Same thing. We learn the rules to better understand writing, but it doesn't mean you can't break them."
"And do I have to, like, use dialogue if I don't want to?" asks another.
"For heaven's sake. No, you don't have to, you can pick from the narrative modes that you want to incorporate, and dialogue doesn't have to be one of them as long as the story works without it."
They are so afraid to break the "rules," and at the same time so excited. I'm looking forward to this second round of workshopping. I know that many of them took the class because they want to write fiction. It should be fun.
That is, if I can enjoy it. If this pain would please-and-thank-you-very-much go away.
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