Goals, not resolutions

Resolutions are suckers. Goals are for winners (and losers who want to win). I don't see much of anything wrong with myself, so it was difficult coming up with this list.

1. First and foremost, I should submit some poems somewhere. I mean, what the hell am I doing?

2. I will not get shitfaced this year. And if I do, it will not be in my boyfriend's backyard. And if it is, I will not pass out by the sheep. And if I do, Brian will not be there to take pictures with his cellphone.

3. As soon as I get my tuition refund, I'm going to open a savings account and get on the fast-track to adulthood. I will slowly save for a house.

4. Since I'm a poet, and not exactly prolific, I will never be able to afford a house. So, I plan to find a cute Ivy League doctor who will marry me and buy me a house. In Cambridge. Of all my goals, this is the most likely to happen.

5. I will proactively cook for myself. By 'cook', I don't mean 'pour a bowl of cereal'. But that's probably what I will end up doing. Lets be real.

6. I will try to find something in this world that I love more than my cat. Of all my goals, this is the least likely to happen. Actually, this doesn't need to happen at all. She's perfection.

Me-OW.

Note to self: stop writing 2010

Is it 2011 now? I had no idea since my head was in a toilet for the last 4 days. I saw fireworks, though. I mean, real fireworks. Not like...I puked so hard I saw stars.

Anyway, I'm feeling better, but still painfully unproductive. I bought new curtains, a tablecloth, and a wine rack, so clearly I'm ready to enter my mid-to-late-twenties. But as far as writing and garnering inspiration goes, I may not be ready for much. I think my voice is changing again and I need to let it fester.

I'm wary of the new year. I don't usually have good luck during odd years/even ages. So in 2011 I'll be 26, and I expect it to be a terrible shit show. The sequel to 2009/24. Boston has settled me, though. Maybe it'll be good.

My eyes are getting worse.

I have what some may call an irrational fear of microwaves. Of microwaves frying my ovaries, to be specific. Our microwave is at abdomen-level. I rarely use it, but when I do I linger in our pantry because I (irrationally) think that the waves can't travel sideways.

This is how I discovered a draft coming through the backdoor. I bought a thing to block the draft, but I won't know if it worked until I use the microwave again.

My mom asked if I'll be home on Monday because she's sending a package to me. I sent her a card last week intending to boost her confidence/self-esteem/whatever she's lacking/just to say, "Hey, I suppose I'm here for you and would reckon that I still love you." She cried and was so touched that she bought me something.

So I started sending cards to everyone. Just because.

I just bought two books: Modern Poetry of Pakistan and Best New Poets 2010 (edited by Claudia Emerson). I've been wanting poetry from under-appreciated cultures. I wish I was bilingual. I was starting to learn, but I lost my teacher. Well. I killed him.

Here:

Ghazal: The Luster of a Pearl Is Something Else (by Tanveer Abbasi)

The luster of a pearl is something else
The sparkle of eyes, something else

The depth of the sea is a reality
The heart of a poet, something else

The cooing of a dove is music
The roar of cannons, something else

Clouds change color at twilight
The nuclear cloud is something else

What is in the heart is on the lips as well
The poet's demeanor is something else

The body is a cage for the soul
A cage for the cage, something else

Look at the bloodstains and weep
Whose blood this is, something else

Pure gold shines bright
A smiling face is something else

Gold is good, and so is silver
The heart is something else

Hope is support enough, Tanveer
The fear of pain, something else

So I got hired by an axe murderer

I start training on the 1st for the proofreader position. The company is called Ath Power (pronounced "eighth"). It's a consulting firm that (I believe) deals in "customer experience solutions." I'll be proofreading customer response surveys, or something like that. I don't know.

It's 40 hrs/wk, telecommute. I set my own schedule and work anywhere I want. In 3 months I'll be eligible for health insurance benefits (which I've already paid for through Emerson for the year) and vacation time.

You're probably saying, "That's awesome, Shannon!" Way to go me. And if you're my mom, you're probably telling all your family and friends how "these things just have a way of falling into her lap!"...ignoring the fact that I applied to 14 jobs--ranging from Whole Foods to desk jobs to distributing pamphlets--before getting an interview.

So what's the issue? The guy who hired me--the same guy who will be training me--wants to set up the training at his apartment. (Okay...?) There are 4 proofreaders in all that he's training, 2 of which cannot make the training next week; I will be in PA, so I fall into this awkward category. I have a car; the other girl does not, and that's why I think he's setting it up at his apartment. Proximity to public trans. But still...can't we make other arrangements? Pick her up at the train/bus station? If it wasn't in the early afternoon I'd be more hesitant. He gave us the option to do that or go to the office.

Where is my mixed martial arts training when I need it?!

In other news:

I'm developing a throat thing.

It's chilly. The leaves are pretty. It's windy all the time.

I'm listening to music for what feels like the first time (though may be the second time) since I moved here. All the songs are tied to PA, so I presently have no idea where I am.

Poems are very, very, slowly coming along. So slow I'm verging on disappointed. It's hard pushing this shit out. I never tried writing before when I wasn't "in the mood."

I hope Halloween never comes because as soon as it's over all the Christmas garbage comes out.

Book Fest was neat. The first event I worked was supposed to be two authors discussing their novels. An Israeli man and Palestinian woman. They didn't talk very long about their novels. Fireworks, name calling, and shouts from the audience. Lots of people walked out. Lots of people were angry with the volunteers, wanting to know who organized such a "horrible," "offensive" event. I was surprised that people didn't see that coming. I mean, seriously. It was in the Old South Church sanctuary. Beautiful church. It was all very poetic.

Interesting thing about that church, they accept the LGBT community and even ordain homosexual ministers. Very cool.

I didn't see the justice talks.

School is awesome, but getting hectic. End of the semester and such. I'm looking forward to the break--lots of reading/writing time. Maybe snowboarding.

Casey is awesome. Kind of eats a lot. Poops pretty much all the time. My god.

I read last night that Elizabeth Short, a.k.a the Black Dahlia, lived in my town.

My town really blows. Thank goodness I'm so close to the city and essentially everything that doesn't blow.

4 days till PA.

S'all gravy, baby

> I finally have a job interview. I know nothing about the company. The ad on craigslist just said "a local firm." Normally I stay away from vague ads that say "a local company needs help. Send your resume." But it seems legit. When the guy called he said the name of the company and it sounded like another one I applied for, but later I got an email from THAT company saying they didn't want to pursue me. Imagine my confusion. So I googled the address and it's either an engineering firm or a legal firm.

Anyway, it's a full-time telecommuting proofreading job that would support me very well while staying flexible with school. The guy said that one of their proofreaders is working toward his doctorate in architecture. I feel like I pretty much have it since he said that based on my resume/cover letter I'm what they're looking for and they could be a good fit for me. I also feel that this could be another Vertical Screen experience, minus the cubicle; but I don't care at this point. Just need income.

So...it seems 14-15 applications is what it takes before I get a call back about anything.

> I'm starting today as a volunteer poetry reader for Ploughshares--Emerson's nationally recognized lit journal. (Emerson has a lot of literary outlets, which I LOVE. Temple had...one.) Each genre has it's own batch of volunteer readers that serve as a first-tier screening process for the tens of thousands of submissions they get during their 6 month reading period. (I think poetry alone gets 12,000 submissions.)

Writers that I know/read/admire work on this thing as guest editors. It's amazing. I'm very happy to be somehow apart of it. I'm also happy that I'm finally updating my resume with relevant experience.

> Boston Book Fest is this Saturday. I volunteered to help, then retracted my offer because I didn't feel comfortable(?) doing it for some reason anymore. The intern in charge of the volunteers tried to talk me back into it, but I never got back to her. Figured it was done and I'd just go enjoy the festival as a non-volunteer. A few weeks later I get my volunteer assignment. I guess I was never removed. I took it as a sign from the universe that I need to be involved/get out of the house/network/make friends/whatever else. So I had a pre-fest shift yesterday that was supposed to be from 9-1, but ended up being 9-10:30. We folded shirts. Saturday I'm 9-1 as a line counter. Oooh.

There's a justice lecture I want to see at 3. I think there are 4 speakers, but I'm only interested in seeing Michael Sandel, a Harvard professor that gives the very popular and recently televised justice lectures. I watched a few of them when I lived in PA. Though The Social Network gave me a new level of aversion toward the Ivy League, I'm not above taking what I can get for free.



Then from 4-5 I'm in a free poetry workshop called Poem Generator. Hope it helps. I'm not exactly prolific.

> The Social Network was really good. I hate Harvard, but it was really good. I want to assure the general public that not everyone who goes to Harvard is as good looking as the people in the film. I know, I was disappointed to. But there is no IQ:Hotness ratio. (Though, I believe there is an algorithm for it in the movie.)

> Justin and I went to Salem over the weekend. That was a joke. I feel better about missing this Mardi Gras-esque Halloween bash now, as I highly doubt it will be even remotely that good.



For anyone who has never been, Salem consists of 1 old house, a dozen "museums" that are the size of the average living room and which do not contain actual artifacts, 3 restaurants (the beer selection: Coors Lite, Miller Lite, Bud Lite, Heineken, Sam Adams), no bars, and 1 extremely hazardous bookstore. If interested in experiencing a museum from home, say, the Lizzie Borden "40 Whacks" Museum, search wikipedia for Lizzie Borden. Print it out, tape it on the walls around your living room, and set up a dozen or so antiques that could pass for being hers but that which have nothing to do with her. Also, give yourself $11 for it, $9 if you have your student ID. Presto.

For people who are actually interested in historical accuracy, go to the library instead. Little in Salem has anything to do with the witch trials or Puritan lifestyle. Everything looks like it was bought in the Halloween Outlet. Somehow Salem became the mecca for Wiccans, Warlocks, and people with pointy hat fetishes.



> Thank goodness for Honk Fest saving the day.



> Casey has been waking me up in the middle of the night lately. She flops around on my head and licks my face for an uncomfortable amount of time. I think it verges on (reverse?) bestiality. Apparently I shut her in the closet earlier and neither of us noticed because she fell asleep in there. I'm a bad mom. Anyway, now I need to get up the motivation to go into the city and do some research. I'd rather nap.

> P.S - I didn't take any of these pictures.

I'll preface by saying I'm good. It's almost always cloudy up in MA, which is better than the weather in PA during this time of year--week long rains. It rains every other day, never hard but enough to soak your shoes if you have to walk around the city all day. Now I know why everyone wears rain boots up here.

I'm still unemployed. Really thought I'd have something by now. I've applied for 13 or 14 so far. I'm starting to lose track. On the plus side, the refund from my loan disbursement gives me an extra month to find something before I'm broke. Unfortunately, my projected date of going broke is just before X-mas. Sorry, kids.

School is fine. I like it. I have trouble pushing myself to write, but I'm finally starting to get myself into the right habits. The right mentality. It takes a particularly severe type of devotion to be a poet. I'm learning.

I'm volunteering at the Boston Book Fest next weekend. Free shirt.

I also took a reading test to be a volunteer reader for Ploughshares--Emerson's nationally recognized literary journal. Trying to boost the resume.

Casey seems completely adjusted to indoor life now.

I get restless, but I'm making friends. Surprisingly, I haven't felt very homesick. Maybe not surprisingly. I love it up here. I think I got all my homesickness out before I moved. Very efficient.

I haven't really written anything new, but revised a couple old poems. Trying to write new stuff now. We'll see. I guess it's going alright. I'll post them in the near-to-distant future.

Haven't done laundry in over a month. I'll probably take care of that tomorrow so I can finish putting away my summer clothes. Not looking forward to New England winter. Especially since I left my winter coat in PA. Doh.

I normally love October, but it just doesn't feel right without my buds. The leaves are much prettier up here, however. I guess that's the trade off.