i’m thinking i might move to denver in a year or so. 

any of you live there?

i have been working side by side for the past 8.5 months with a woman who is, as one friend remarked, is an “emotional terrorist”.  though she is double my age, she regularly displays the maturity of a five year old — throws tantrums, refuses to learn new things, takes her frustration and hostility about not understanding or not liking things out on those around her (namely, me).  she is so incredibly volatile, high strung, and hypocritical.

i’ve put up with this for long enough.  i’ve made all kinds of excuses for her, and for why i should continue to just suck it up and keep working 40+ hours a week in these conditions. and i have now decided that that’s all bullshit.  that i need to use my voice, stand up for myself, and change my work life. so i did — i talked to my boss today, and starting in june, i’m going to be teaching most of my classes solo.  i’ll also be able to teach two poetry classes at two different prisons because of the new set up.

lesson learned: being assertive, voicing what i need and want and expect in a work environment — it pays. i hope i never hesitate to use my voice and that i can stop doubting my own truths, at the cost of my own emotional & physical health. 

1. i saw sigur ros perform in denver this weekend, it was amazing amazing amazing amazing. jonsi’s voice in real life is JUST AS BEAUTIFUL and clear and perfect. i cried so much during it.

2. my first poetry class at the prison wrapped up last night. it was sad but also really awesome to hear from my guys how much they liked the class and that they plan to continue writing even after they release.  i’m putting together an anthology of their best work. it’s gonna be titled (per their decision) “spittin’ out static” :) love it.

i work in a prison.

around me at all times are

men.

the sound of crackling radio static

follows me home.

the smell of sadness, metallic

permeates my pores —

won’t fade in the wash.

once i asked my students

to try to remember what they wanted

to be when they were little;

a pilot, a dentist,

an archaeologist

a professional football player

a chef

and when it came to the oldest one

with long hair, high cheekbones

he said smiling

i wanted to be like my dad -

a drunk

and Lord, did i succeed.

my laugh comes out hollow -

a rotted pine trunk.

the sound of squawking intercom announcements

burst out in my dreams

the smell of injustice and anger and isolation, mildewed

won’t scrub off my palms.

Praise to the dusty maroon Saturn

that picked you up on a Tuesday morning

while the mist slowly climbed the hills

and the blue-grey cranes purred in the fields!

Praise to that beaten up car,

and praise to your daughter, who

glistening at the temples

hoisted your box of possessions

into the compact trunk

and slammed down the top

with finality.

Praise to her who reached out

and touched you on the arm

as you looked one last time at the orange

of the roof, of the men in their state issued suits

swearing you’ll avoid that color

forever — praise you, my free friend

and praise all colors

except orange.

Praise to the dusty maroon Saturn

that picked you up on a Tuesday morning

skittering through the asphalt and dirt

moving you away from here

crawling you toward open sky

creeping you closer to home.

guess who has red hair and gets to start teaching poetry at a prison on monday

that’d be this girl

whether you want it or not, here is an update on my life.

1) i have a second interview tomorrow morning, for that dream-job position. which is exciting and nerve wracking at the same time. and also has me feeling kinda insane because i wanted it so badly when i applied, but i’m starting to feel more settled here in new mexico and have really begun to like my current job more ‘n more. blurrrrgh.

2) lady parts: biblical women and the vagina monologues is now a published book, ready for purchase! two pieces of my writing are included in the anthology. :) fancy fancy fancy. here’s a link, if you’re interested. :)