Losing my history

Today was Robbie’s birthday. He is 22 and is one of three of Mike’s siblings. He’s also a new daddy — someone PLEASE remind me to ask permission to post photos of Ciana — and has a wonderful girlfriend, Jaysa. We all went out tonight with a couple of his friends to the Chinese buffet in Watertown.

Sushi and beer, a girl's best friend

Sushi and beer, a girl's best friend

After over three years of dating Mike — we don’t subtract the two months we were broken up — I’d like to say that his family is pretty much my family. We’ve known for a while now that we are going to get married. He is my best, best friend, and the connection between us goes deeper than words can explain. If one of us is hurting, both of us are hurting. I don’t know about him, but I feel physically drawn to him, like a magnet to a refrigerator door (or to an old-school chalkboard, if you remember them).

Right now, we are both hurting.

That magnetic connection is still there, but we both are currently faced with the C word. I can no longer lean on him when I’m having a hard time accepting that Popi is sick and may not be with us much longer. Now, we must lean on each other, and I honestly don’t know how to be there for him when I am hurting so much myself.

You see, today we found out that there is a tumor in his mom’s brain. This strong, beautiful woman is like a second mother to me. No one could ever replace my own mother — I love you very, very much, Mommy — but Tracy is very dear to me. They — meaning the doctors — don’t know if it’s malignant or benign, so we have to wait and see, and anyone who knows me knows that I suck at the waiting game.

I thought for sure that maybe she had MS, and it was an MS lesion. I wanted it to be MS, so very badly, just like I wanted my grandfather to just have a damaged sciatic nerve. Instead, the C word looms.

And people act surprised when they discover I am smoking again.

With makeup and au natural hair

With makeup and au natural hair

Don’t get me wrong, things aren’t all bad. I went to my writers’ group this afternoon, although I was half an hour late because it started at 3:30 and I work at my PT job until 4. I didn’t bring anything with me, either, so it ended early because out of the four of us, only two people brought something in. One of us wasn’t even there to perfect her writing; she is an ESL student and joined the group so that she could hear more conversational English and learn from listening to us pick apart language in our writing. She’s Russian, so she is automatically cool in my book. I sometimes desperately wish I knew more about my Russian heritage, but thanks to my mom’s dad taking off when she was a teenager, we know next to nothing.

Anyway, she was very cool and for someone who claimed to not be a writer, she had quite a bit to offer to the conversation and lots of suggestions for Chick’s poem.

Even though I had nothing to bring in with me, I did spend almost two hours yesterday writing a chapter for Secondhand Mom. So far, it’s nine pages long and is probably going to be twice as long when I finish it. It might be so long that I’ll have to break it up into at least two separate chapters. Regardless, it felt really good to actually do some writing. I fell right back into pace, and am really loving my characters right now. I just wish that I had more time to spend on writing as opposed to working.

Yesterday was also my first appointment with my new psychologist, but that’s a whole other post.

I am trying really hard to see the good side of life right now, or else I’ll probably lose my mind. I often feel like my whole childhood, my history, is just being pulled right out from underneath me by some meaner, bigger kid. Life’s a bitch like that.

Anyway. How are YOU?

A spoonful of happiness

My new response to everything is coffee.

When I’m stressed out? I make a pot of coffee. When I’m tired? I make a pot of coffee. When I’m gearing up to dive into a whole lot of work? I crave coffee. (Please, oh please, let my Starbucks Christmas Blend last a little while longer.)

Coffee is my new crack, yellowing of teeth included. I’m going to need some of those Crest White Strips. (Do they even work?)

I’m sitting here slurping hot coffee as I write this, because it doesn’t seem natural to sit in front of any kind of computer without a cup of crackcoffee. The stuff doesn’t even give me energy anymore; I just NEED it. And love it.

I look forward to Thursday, when I’ll drive down to my Barnes & Noble, order the White Chocolate Mocha Latte in the largest size, and sit down in front of my laptop to write.

I’ve been trying to write every day, if I can. On Saturday I wrote a lot. I wish I knew exactly how much (but I’ll guesstimate anywhere between 8,000 and 10,000 words). This morning, I wrote 1,074 words, or something around there. I probably will also do some writing Wednesday morning. Getting up at nine as opposed to ten this morning sucked at first, but when I sat down and wrote for thirty minutes, it felt so good. I didn’t even want to stop (which is why I was late to work this morning)!

I’m discovering that not only do I love writing, but I love writing. I can see Secondhand Mom finished very soon, can see it clearly in my mind’s eye. I’m almost there, and it feels so good.

I’m also looking forward to tomorrow, when I’ll get up even earlier so that I can work my shift at my part-time job earlier, so that I can go to the writers’ group at my community college at 2pm. I look forward to seeing the familiar faces: Chick, Roger, Professor Harding. I look forward to seeing the new faces, too. I’m also really looking forward to being on the Fresh Ink committee; I don’t think I can submit anything because I’m alumni now, but I already volunteered to do the page layouts. I haven’t done any print work in a long time, so this should be interesting.

Despite all of the negative that has been such a big part of my daily routine lately, there is a load of positive to go with it. Take some time today to think about the positive in your life. Leave a comment and share it with me; I want to hear all about it.

I’ve got this blogging thing down

I’m a rockstar at this blogging thing, I know. You don’t have to tell me how great I am at posting every day, and you definitely don’t have to tell me that I post way too much.

Ahem.

These last few weeks have been insane! I wish that I could remember everything but, sadly, my brain is wiped clean. I have enough trouble talking and putting words together into coherent sentences, never mind trying to remember everything that’s been going on. I now know how Ozzy feels.

I’m not even sure where to begin, as I can’t remember what I last wrote about and am way too lazy to actually go hunting through the two or so posts I’ve written in the last couple of months, so let’s just cut to the chase: car (Lisa Mazda) is dead, all I’ve been doing is working, my story “Anonymiss” won second place in this year’s Fresh Ink contest over at Naugatuck Valley, and I can meow.

The 2009 Writers’ Conference was Wednesday, and the guest speaker was Everett Hoagland, a poet from Massachusetts. His poems were really, really good. I literally fell into a sort of trance as I listened to him read. They were filled with a rhythm that I swear only African-American poets have. Even this guy’s presence was amazing; he was just so composed and peaceful.

I read my winning story from last year’s Fresh Ink, “Moon Prayer,” just before the awards for this year’s contest were presented, and after I read Everett pulled me aside and asked me how long I’ve been writing. I told him since about third grade, and remembered the story about dalmatians I wrote with my classmate Sherry-Lee. (I don’t remember what that story was about, only that it was about dalmatians and that we wrote and illustrated it on darker fuchsia construction paper.)

“I can tell you take this seriously,” he told me. “For you to write such detail, to know so much about someone who is so different from you, is amazing.”

I could barely speak, I was so astonished that this amazing man loved my story.

“You are already an accomplished writer. We’re going to be hearing about you,” he said. He said that to me several times throughout the day.

I don’t think I’m a bad writer. I mean, I know I’ve got a little talent, I guess. Several teachers, family, friends, and Professor Harding have told me over and over that I have talent. I guess I always just thought they were biased, because most of these people really liked me to begin with. For this guy, someone who did not know me at all, to hear one story and say those amazing things to me… Well, it meant a lot. He was so, so inspiring.

I felt really good about the whole day, actually. I got to connect with a lot of people I haven’t seen in a while, and Professor Harding and I went over a little of The Cure Program. To make things even better, Mike spent the whole day with me because I don’t have a car and had no other way of getting there. He said he had a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed having him there. We had a blast during the writers’ workshop that Professor Harding did.

As strange as it sounds, I really miss NVCC. I’ve never missed an old school before. I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere. But I truly did fit in at that community college, and I don’t think I’ll ever feel that “snug” anywhere else. I think that’s as good as it gets for me.

I had a lot more I wanted to write about, but I want to get to bed. Maybe I’ll update again before July. (;

Almost forgot that I promised pics. Got my toes done, but need to get them done again now.

Almost forgot that I promised pics. Got my toes done, but need to get them done again now.

I look so freaking tired here. I got my hair cut last weekend, and dyed again, thanks to my cousin Alicia.

I look so freaking tired here. I got my hair cut last weekend, and dyed again, thanks to my cousin Alicia.

Me and the kitty, with creepy glowy eyes.

Me and the kitty, with creepy glowy eyes.

Teachers put up with a lot of crap

Recently I discovered a tutorial website. They offer many different tutorials, all of which are very in-depth. You can tell they put a lot of time and effort into developing these tutorials for people. I truly admire people that do things like this.

I read through a few tutorials and the comments (because I love seeing what other people create and get out of tutorials), and I was disgusted to see a lot of negative comments on one tutorial in particular. Many of the people commenting were downing the tutorial, saying it was “too easy,” and that the tutorial is the “equivalent of ‘filler songs’ on albums.” A few people said they were disappointed because the tutorial was simple.

I don’t understand why, since these people think they’re so great, they come to a tutorial website in the first place. If they think they are so much better, then why do they need to read tutorials?

I mean, yes, the tutorial was simple, but a lot of people — myself included — can benefit from it. It shows you how to recreate a digital art style that is very popular right now. Even if the end result is simple, you can very easily take the concepts shown in the tutorial and make some great stuff.

This tutorial wasn’t the only one people complained about. I read through a few more and every once in a while someone would whine and say it was too easy. I just don’t understand these people. If it’s so easy, why did you click on the link to the tutorial in the first place? When I scrolled through their list of Photoshop tutorials, there were a few that I said to myself, “I already know how to do that,” but it’s not like I read through the whole tutorial and then commented saying, “this is too easy, boo-hoo.”

Can’t we just be grateful to the people who give all of their free time toward teaching others? Can’t we just leave a comment saying “thank you” instead of crying about how easy it is? Hell, if you are such a Photoshop master, maybe you should be running a tutorial site. Then again, I wouldn’t want a teacher like you.

Teachers guys deal with a lot of bullshit, and they don’t get enough credit. If it weren’t for teachers, I wouldn’t be where I am today. There have been a handful of teachers who have inspired me and encouraged me, and I am forever grateful for their mentoring.

Mrs. McCasland (my first grade teacher) and Mrs. Paternostro (my first grade teacher before Mrs. McCasland), were the first to truly inspire me. They both had the most patience I have ever seen in anyone. They were kind and brilliant women, and even when I was in middle school they still continued to influence me. I can remember Mrs. McCasland offering to tutor me in math, because I was having a hard time passing seventh grade math. Just that kind gesture made me more determined to pass, and I did (though just barely).

I had Miss Crane for fifth grade. She encouraged me to keep writing, and she always pushed me to write better. I would hand in various stories and writing assignments, and she would tell me what I needed to change to make it better. She was the first teacher I ever had who corrected me, and even though I hated it sometimes it made me a better writer. She called me Liza Manelli, and she always complimented me on my hair. It felt great to be complimented by her, and she was my role model for that year. I wanted to be just like her.

Mrs. DeMatteis — I’m sorry if I butchered your name! — was my sixth grade math teacher. She wrote out every step for every problem on the board, and drilled note-taking skills into our heads. I excelled in math that year, and even now I still use the basic note-taking principles she taught us. I also loved the Clue-like deduction puzzles she always gave us, and how she always assigned us Sherlock Holmes stories. She was also my homeroom teacher, and I still love her.

Mrs. Stango was my sixth grade English teacher. I didn’t like her at first. I thought she was the meanest person in the world, because she always picked me to read or called on me for answers. I was a smart kid, but I didn’t want any of the other kids to notice me. When the year was almost over, I finally began to appreciate her. She and her husband — my print shop teacher — were two of the kindest people I have ever known, especially at the middle school I attended, and especially when it seemed like I was all alone. I grew to love her and realized that she wasn’t picking on me; she recognized me for what I was and wanted to help me tap into my prowess with reading and writing.

In high school, Chef B became my mentor and father figure outside of home. He was always cracking jokes and always made his students feel good about themselves. Sandy and I skipped nearly an entire day of Culinary a couple of times, and even though he was really disappointed in us he thought we should stick together. He fought for Sandy to stay at our vocational school rather than go on to adult ed. Chef B was a fighter, and he fought cancer for a short time before passing away in October 2004. Culinary was not the same without him, and we all had a hard time adjusting to the slew of new teachers who took his staff position.

I didn’t really have any other great teachers until my first semester of college. Professor Harding — who is editing my novel — taught the first English course I took. At first he seemed like a hardass, but I quickly realized that he brought out the best in his students. He pressed us until we used our minds to their fullest capacity. He taught me how to think critically, and I learned more in that semester about reading and writing than I have in my entire life. I took his Creative Writing class last semester, and I learned even more. I hated the poetry section but as usual he was right; reading and writing poetry made me a better writer.

When I started my first non-freelance, stable web design job for my city’s newspaper, I was a little intimidated. My boss made me feel like I fit right in and he has taught me more about web development in a little over a year than I learned in two-plus years of college.

So thank you, to all of the teachers who influenced me and kept me going, and to all of the teachers out there who do this every day and don’t get acknowledged for it. Thank you for doing what you do, and don’t let the trolls of the world stop you.