An Evening With Chalupa & Celery September 27, 2008

I don’t like celery by itself.  I try to like it, and try to eat it, but I don’t.  With peanut butter or in tuna salad or in soup and it’s fine, but by itself?  Ick.  Gross.

Chalupa is trying to make me eat some celery.  “Eat some celery!” he shouts from the kitchen.

“I don’t want it.”

“Eat some celery!  It’s good for you!  It’s calorie burning!”

“I don’t like celery by itself.”

“Eat it! It’s tasty!”  This time, he comes over and holds it out to me.  This is not like popcorn.  If a person shakes popcorn at me, I have to eat it.  Not the case with celery.  He has that look in his eye.  He’s not going to go away until I eat the celery.

“I don’t want to, and you can’t make me!”

My mistake.  I should know by now that Chalupa can pretty much make me do whatever he wants.  He’s strong, and I’m not.  “WAIT!  DON’T TAKE THAT AS A CHALLENGE!” I quickly add, and he relents.

I don’t have to eat the celery.

But I have to say that I learned my lesson a long time ago, and should have remembered it.  Don’t tell Chalupa he can’t make me do something.  ‘Cause he can.

‘Cause I’m a wimp.

Thanks, Chalupa, for not forcing me to eat celery.  You’re the best.

Today: Lana & Kyle September 27, 2008

I have one thing on my mind today, and it’s not cleaning the house (which needs done) or doing my homework (which is even more urgent) or writing my next essay for workshop class (which is definitely what should be consuming my time).  It’s Lana.

Today is Lana’s wedding day.  In Indiana.

I am in New Hampshire.

Here’s how good of a friend Lana is: she understands why I can’t be there.  I honestly don’t know that I would have been as understanding if she had been the one not coming to my wedding, although now I have a better idea of what it means to leave far away and not be able to travel to the things you want to travel to.

I am sad to be missing this wedding.  I’m sad because it’s going to be a gathering of my friends that I would love to see, and it’s going to be such an important day in Lana’s life.  She’s the one who never planned on having a real wedding, and I wish I could be there to tell her she’s doing a good job.  I wish I could see the day that she’s going to remember.

Missing this wedding is making me realize just how far away from home I am.  I’ve been away from home this long before — it’s not the length of time that’s bothering me.  It’s the lack of freedom to drive home on any given afternoon and say hello to the people I want to see.  It’s hearing Arya on the phone, talking more and more clearly, and not knowing what to say when she says, “Okay, I want to come to your house now, Aunt Liz!”  It’s phone calls instead of lunch plans and e-mails instead of get-togethers.

Lana and I became friends very gradually, and I think our friendship is richer for that.  It was as if we slowly realized how close we’d become, and then got to celebrate it for a couple of years before I moved.  I am really, incredibly happy for her today.  Kyle, the man she is marrying, is funny and warm and a good match for her.  I like him.

Congratulations, Lana and Kyle!

Semester One: Favorite Class September 26, 2008

I officially have a favorite class.

I’m taking three courses this semester, all basically on the same topic.  One is a literature course on autobiographical memoir.  One is a theory/survey course on memoir and nonficition.  And one is a workshop course on memoir and nonfiction.

The workshop course is by far my favorite.

This is my instructor, Meredith.  I highly recommend that you read her excellent book, Without a Map.

My non-English major friends may be unfamiliar with the structure of a workshop class, so here’s the story.  Every other week, I have an 8+ page essay due.  It, along with the essays of four of my classmates, is copied, passed out to all of the students, and taken home to be read and commented on.  Then, during the next week’s class, we spend twenty minutes talking about each person’s work.  The writer isn’t allowed to respond during the critique, except to ask questions at the end.

It’s absolutely invigorating.

I was nervous about this part of graduate school when I came here, but thanks to Meredith’s fine class leadership and a great group of classmates, it has turned out to be my favorite.  I love reading everyone else’s work and being a part of their creative process.  And it’s an incredible feeling to be able to turn in drafts of my newest work and get real, honest feedback about how to make it better.

Trigger Warning Church September 21, 2008

I read a lot of feminist blogs, so I’m really familiar with the words “trigger warning.”  Basically, when a blogger is going to link to a traumatic story, video, or image, he or she lets her readers know that it could be potentially upsetting to them.  I think this is especially common on feminist blogs because they talk openly about things like sexism, assault, rape, and misogyny.  You might easily encounter a trigger warning if there’s content that deals with cruelty to animals or people, violence, gore, etc.  Basically, anytime you’re posting something that might really affect someone, depending on either their past experiences or sensitivities, you give them advanced notice.

Well, I went to a new church today, and they should have had a trigger warning before they showed their videos.

The sermon series at this church is called “Hostage,” and it appears to be from some sort of sermon collective, where you can get miscellaneous supplies to go with your messages.  There was a banner advertising the series, there was set design on stage, and there were fill-in-the-blank notes.

I’ve got to give it to the congregation for being very, very welcoming.  Tons of people spoke to us and introduced themselves, and it wasn’t at all forced or contrived.  I really appreciated that.  I don’t think we’ll be back because the style of preaching wasn’t really our thing (very emotional instead of thought-provoking), but I did think that the people there were great.

Don’t you think, though, that before showing this video, they should have labeled with a trigger warning?

(Note: trigger warning!)

Things I’m Not September 17, 2008

In my Workshop class, we had a short discussion on the benefits of explaining what something is by focusing on what it’s not.  Here is a list of things that I am not:

• the owner of free time
• a freshman
• a musician
• “shocked and saddened by Ray Boltz’s admission of being gay” (Seriously, can’t people come up with some other way to describe their feelings about this?)
• energetic (at least not today)
• sure if I’m an extrovert or an introvert
• lonely
• a mom
• Conservative
• able to go to a best friend’s wedding on September 27th
• dieting
• a confident reader
• a literary scholar

No Satisfaction for the Curious September 15, 2008

A lot of things are being written about my dad right now.  Blogs, websites, news sites, and even Perez Hilton are posting content about him.

I’ve considered whether or not I should post my thoughts on this whole issue, but I’ve chosen not to.  I don’t want to become a source for these people who are writing as if they know us.  There are a lot of incorrect assumptions being made, and at this point, I don’t plan on correcting any of them right now.  People can have their misunderstandings.  Those who know the truth are the important ones, and the important ones know the truth.

This is what I will say.  My family is incredibly close.  Nothing in the past four years has changed that.  As I posted on my Facebook two nights ag: I am very, very proud to be a member of the Boltz family.  We love each other.  Do not be sad for us, as we ourselves are content and full of love.

And for those of you wondering what the hubbub is about, here is the article.

Getting Political (If nothing else, consider watching the video in bold at the end) September 11, 2008

I hate that Sarah Palin is being subjected to ridiculous remarks from the media and now from pop culture (MILF shirts, sexualized action figures, offensive commentary).  I may consider her to be a ridiculously awful candidate for Vice President, but from what I can tell, the Conservative public’s embracing of Palin comes from the exact same place that rejected Hillary Clinton.

After all, a woman in power who could be perceived as shrewish or harsh was to be feared, ridiculed, and hated.  A woman in power who can be perceived as a sexual and attractive is to be embraced — not because of any credentials (which, by the way?) but because she’s not a threat.

I believe that this all comes from the fear of women having power.

As for the idea that Sarah Palin is some feminist ideal, which is why you see pictures like this of Rosie the Riveter with Palin’s face.

But Sarah Palin as Rosie the Riveter?  I know that Rosie didn’t originally represent what modern American feminism is all about right now (protecting women, ensuring that abortion stays legal, providing women with health care), but she has certainly become a symbol for more than just the strength of women.  It’s not just about being able to do it, and you’re free to assign whatever “it” you want that to be.

Rosie the Riveter as a symbol is about what’s best for women, and I don’t believe that Sarah Palin is good for women.

Look at the more ridiculous elements of her past, like charging victims of rape for their rape kits or not having an opinion on the war in Iraq when her own son is in the military.

She supported Alaska’s failed 1998 amendment to define marriage as between a man and a woman, but worse than that, she doesn’t even support benefits for same-sex couples.  She and McCain are miles behind Obama when it comes to health care, still supporting our completely abysmal health care system.  (For a really good, personal look at what our current health care system is doing to American families, check out Heather Armstrong’s rant over at Dooce from last week.)

I also think it’s crazy that for all of these months, Conservatives have been saying not to trust Obama because of his lack of experience, and now they’ve chosen Palin — what a game we play in this country when it comes to our politics!  I agree that Obama doesn’t have a ton of experience, which is perhaps why I voted for Hillary in the primary.  BUT. . .if Obama’s lack of experience was enough to make me question his readiness to be president (which I now think that he is), Sarah Palin should be sending up tons of red flags!

Finally, there is the issue that many Conservatives are so excited about: the fact that John McCain and Sarah Palin would work to overturn Roe v. Wade.  I used to be ardently pro-life.  I read books and was vocal about my opinion, until I started asking the question, “It might not be right, but can it be illegal?”  The thing is, abortion is a difficult issue.  Women don’t have abortions because it’s fun, or because it’s their preferred form of birth control — even though you’ll hear Christians often saying that that’s exactly what they do.  Women have abortions because life is not black an white.

The slander against women who have abortions is appalling.  This abortion “facts” site tries to appear objective, but how objective is it to claim that “93% of all abortions occur for social reasons (i.e. the child is unwanted or inconvenient).” The number might be right, but how do you think that makes those 93% feel when they see that.  Did they view their pregnancy as an “inconvenience,” or something much greater and more complex?  I seriously doubt that they checked off a box at the clinic where they went and said, “Yep, I’m here ’cause I want my life to be easier.”

I didn’t start questioning my stance on abortion because I changed my mind about the value of human life.  I started questioning it because I realized that there are times when I can’t be the judge of whether or not a woman should end a pregnancy.  Evidently Palin hasn’t even given that thought, as she wouldn’t have let her daughter have an abortion even if the daughter was raped. Isn’t it interesting that her daughter wasn’t even given a voice in that decision?  (PS — I don’t care about the “Bristol is pregnant” scandal, because it’s not a scandal, and it’s irrelevant.)

What is scandalous is the wholehearted embracing of Sarah Palin by so many women, who are excited about the prospect of a woman as Vice President, but only when she votes against them.

If nothing else, consider watching this video (embedding has been turned off), in which demonstrators at an abortion clinic were asked, “What punishment should face women who have abortions, should abortions become illegal?” The people in the video are not made fun of, and they are not ridiculed.  It’s something that should make us think, and I wonder what Sarah Palin’s answer would be.

Some Cycling News September 10, 2008

The last time I saw Lance Armstrong: Morenx, France, 2005

In regards to the very recent news that Lance Armstrong is returning to cycling, this is what I hope. . .

I hope that Lance Armstrong races a clean race.  If he does, I will be more likely to believe that he won seven Tours clean.  Cycling has changed since his retirement, and I don’t think that anyone can confidently fly under the radar when it comes to doping.  Even Lance, if he doped in the past, would not risk doing so now.  If he can still ride at the level he rode for those years — or anywhere close — without drugs, my confidence in him will raise greatly.  I like him now, and I’d call myself a fan, but if he races clean, I’ll become a lot more vocal in my support of him as an athlete.

That said, what I really I hope is that Floyd Landis gets to come back and race the 2009 Tour de France, and that he kicks Lance’s ass.

Not because I don’t like Lance, but because Floyd deserves it.

Floyd Landis is Strasbourg in 2006, the year he won the Tour de France

Majority Rules September 7, 2008

Yesterday at work I dealt with about 75% crazy people.  It’s the first day since starting this retail position that the majority of customers have been just plain nuts.  I don’t think I could explain their nuttiness without going into far too much detail, so I will just say that at one point, a woman told me a long story about her glasses and what was wrong with them.  When my manager approached and I repeated the information, the woman denied the whole story and told something entirely new!  I don’t know if she was lying or just confused.

Cute Black Shoes September 5, 2008

“My feet hurt.”

“Why?”

“The shoes I wore to work today.”

“Why’d you wear those shoes to work today?”

“Well, I was only supposed to have to work for four hours.  I ended up working more like five.”

“You know, Liz, when I wear shoes to work, I make sure the ones I’m wearing don’t have a time limit.“

ZOM-bie! ZOM-bie! ZomBIE-BIE-BIE-BIE! September 3, 2008

My first class — one in literature — was last night, and it went well.  I’m a little intimidated by the sheer number of books I have to purchase for this semester, though.  The count is over twenty-three books for the two classes that I know of.  I’ll find out today about the third book list.  Getting new books is obviously exciting, but spending a few hundred extra dollars is not.

At orientation last week, the MFA professors made some references to the fact that those of us in the MFA program are different from the many more MA and PhD students.  “You’re the artists,” they said.  “They’re the scholars.” Because my first class was a literature class, all but two of us are those MA and PhD students.  I thought that the professors’ theory that we’re different from each other was proven true when one of the PhD students declared in conversation, “Yeah, I really don’t like anything in the twentieth century.  I just don’t think it’s given us anything I’m interested in.  In fact, the only thing I like from the twentieth century are zombies.  I think I’m going to try to write a paper on zombies.”

Some Dreams: A Bird, A Deer, An Airport September 2, 2008

My most memorable dreams happen right before I wake up, and because I wake up several times in the night, I have a lot of memorable dreams.

Last night may have been a record.

First, I dreamed that a man was doing a show about his pre-cognitive birds, which looked like giant black crows.  They were always aware of what was going to happen two or three seconds into the future, which made them very valuable.  The horrible thing was that the man would demonstrate this by holding the bird in his arms, and then watching it suddenly freak out.  It was freaking out because it knew that in just moments, the man was going to kill it.  And sure enough, he did.  He killed the bird with his hands — very quickly — and then laughed at the fear it had felt in the moments before its death.  Without the pre-cognitive awareness of what was going to happen, it would have died peacefully and swiftly.  But because it knew its own future, it was terrified.

That was a pretty awful dream.

A second awful dream was about a party that happened at some version of my mom’s house.  We were all outside, when I realized that one of my tiny pet deer was hurt.  (She was about knee-high on me.)  I had two pet deer in the dream, and had had them my entire life.  I was worried about the hurt one, so I took it inside the house and tried to help it.  When she slowly recovered, I went to put her outside, like I evidently always did: with a little toss.  I knew that she always landed on her feet and ran along happily.  Only this time, she didn’t.  She careened down a hill of cobblestone and was even more injured than she had been.  I spent the next long dream flying and driving with Landon and Sara to try to get her to an emergency veterinary clinic.  I was filled with guilt for having tossed the deer out the door, even though the same action had never hurt her before.  I still have the image of the falling, tumbling, bleeding deer in my mind.

That dream turned into a third, which was of the airport scene.  We ran into a particular red-headed youth pastor from the past, but none of us were able to quite put into words just what we wanted to say to her.  She left just as Karen arrived to join us in trying to wade through a huge crowd of people.

By this time, the deer was very sick.  But she was also tinier than before, and could now fit into a tupperwear container.  I wanted to carry her, but Landon insisted on putting her in the container (which already had leftovers in it!) and carrying her himself.  Later, separated from Landon and Sara, Karen and I watched as tons of Tour de France vehicles and riders came down the airport drop-off/pick-up road.  The Tour de France wasn’t happening or anything; there were just a lot of people riding along, doing their thing.

We waved and said hello, and a few cyclists I’d never heard of stopped to talk to us.  When David Millar did an interview beside me, I waited until he was done and then spoke to him.  Sadly, I embarrassed myself terribly, but it wasn’t exactly realistic.  I said he’d been fun to watch for the past couple of years, and he laughed and said, “Yeah, if it hadn’t been for my terrible back.”  There’s nothing wrong with David Millar’s back, as far as I know, but in the dream I was mortified.

Then I remembered the deer, and I wanted to go back and find her.  But I couldn’t find Landon or Sara, and so I couldn’t find my tupperwear-enclosed deer.

And then I woke up.

Before Starting Graduate School September 2, 2008

I start graduate school tomorrow.

It is strange to say that.  Graduate school was not a goal of mine until I was almost done with my undergraduate degree.  It had never occurred to me that I should pursue anything past my bachelor’s degree, until one day a professor mentioned that I was good at giving feedback on peer work.  That little statement — which was probably made without much thought — prompted me to look closer at some of my skills.  The idea of teaching creative writing at the university level became more and more appealing to me, and by the end of my senior year, I knew I wanted to get my master’s.

I learned about the MFA (Master of Fine Arts) from the capstone class that all senior English majors at Taylor take.  I’d never heard of it before — or at least I hadn’t paid attention when people mentioned it.

In the first year after graduating, I applied to three fiction programs.  I did it without much preparation, and I didn’t really expect to get accepted anywhere.  I was right: I didn’t get accepted.  Going through the process was good for me, though, and two years later I did it again.  Last fall, I applied to six programs, but all in the area of Creative Nonfiction.  I’ve realized in the past couple of years that my greatest strengths lie in the Creative Nonfiction genre, and that I want to tell the stories of real people more than I want to tell the stories of people who live only in my imagination.  They’re great people, too, the imaginary ones, but for now I’m going to keep them to myself.

When I found out that I’d been accepted to the University of New Hampshire, I was beside myself with excitement and gratitude.  And fear.  Because suddenly I had to rearrange everything in my life — and Chalupa’s — to move to a new state for a whole new experience.

And now tomorrow my classes are starting.  I’m in an apartment in New Hampshire, home from a day of selling eyeglasses, and getting ready for the first class of my MFA.

I’ll let you know how it goes.