The Need to Write

I never feel the need to write more than when I'm stressed, wedged between responsibility and whim, on the edge of my own sanity. The semester begins and so do the stacks of papers to grade, classes to plan, committees to attend (and now, chair). That leaves little time for my own writing. The weekly essays I was getting out have halted, a screeching, smoke-building halt. I just don't have time.

But I have to make time because that writing is what keeps me sane. It's that simple.

So I'm stealing a few seconds between papers to come on here and blog. Because I don't have the time to work on anything longer. Because my trips in quiet solitude (or Starbucks solitude) are too few now to allow me to type out anything longer than a couple paragraphs of meandering thoughts. Because I want to write these stories that are swimming in my mind, reminding me of their existence, but I don't have the time to get them out. And it's frustrating. Infuriatingly frustrating.

It's not all gloom, however. In two weeks, I'll be attending the Sanibel Island Writer's Conference. I'm excited because I'll finally have a few days to write - just write. I'm hoping to attend some workshops on memoir, fiction, and young adult fiction. Maybe poetry, too, if I can fit the schedule. But my main projects now involve memoir/personal essay, fiction and young adult fiction, so that's where I hope to be. My hubby and son can enjoy the beaches and I'll enjoy the writing. I'm also excited because I have a manuscript consultation. I prepared and sent out the 10-page scene of my father's death and look forward to receiving feedback on it. At least I feel as if I'm getting some work done on my memoir.

I'm also waiting to hear back from Creative Nonfiction magazine and Brevity.com. I keep receiving rejections, but they haven't kept me down. Each rejection I receive puts me that much closer to receiving an acceptance. It also makes me better. I take that rejected piece, review it again, revise further, and resubmit. Sometimes, the piece is finished, for me, so I just resubmit. I wanted to submit a couple more pieces to Narrative Magazine and Glimmer Train (among others), but I haven't been able to work on those essays. We'll see if I get to make the deadlines.

But right now, my priority is to keep the words moving, dancing on the screen (or the page). My anxiety/panic attack this week is a confirmation that I need an outlet for my stress, and while others need to exercise, I need to write. Somehow, someway, I need to make that time.

Unhinged

I feel myself becoming
unhinged
the seams tearing
one by one,
breaking.
Submerged, perhaps,
but more than that
sequestered
inside the four walls
that bleed yellow into
a flowered wallpaper
like my father had in my Barbie house,
long ago, before he became unhinged.
The voices don't speak,
I hear silence except for the
pat-pat-pat of my heart,
the tempo rising so I cover my ears
but I still hear it.
Loud.
Strong.
My hands shake, my chest caves in.
I can't breathe.

Birthday Blues, or Singulair Side-Effect?

I've been feeling rather blue for the last two days. (I find that term so funny. Why blue? Why not maroon or green or yellow? The colors we associate with moods are interesting, for sure.)

Yesterday was a real doozy without a big reason. I felt odd, out of it. I couldn't make a decision and just felt lifeless. Sad. Overwhelmed. As if pressure were squeezing me slowly. My poor husband. It was my birthday weekend and Saturday we'd had a nice, small dinner at my mom's. I was okay then, only tired. Yesterday, we were supposed to go to a wedding in the afternoon and I was looking forward to dressing up, going out (sans kids) and dancing. It didn't happen. Earlier in the day, my husband tried cheering me up by forcing me to get a manicure and pedicure, which I hadn't gotten in several months, and it was okay. But it didn't cheer me up. All of this was minor and consciously, I knew it. I knew I had no reason to feel the way I did, but I just couldn't shake the sadness off. I felt like a dog wanting to shake herself after a bath but no matter how hard I shook, the water still clung on. I cried myself to sleep last night.

Of course, my son woke up several times last night, which means I didn't get a good night's rest. I woke up feeling better but the veil was still over me. I felt just like I did a few years back when I went through depression. There was no rhyme or reason; it just was. I wondered if I was feeling the birthday blues since tomorrow's my birthday, though that's new for me, too, because I love my birthdays. I love celebrating. I don't mind being another year older if I get to celebrate!

At work, I wasn't my usual cheerful self. I dragged through the day though I did start to feel progressively better towards the latter part. By the time I got home, I felt livelier. I didn't feel the pressure. I wasn't suffocating. I was aggravated and irritated by some things, but within my normal self. I was relieved. And then I thought - wait, I didn't take Singulair today. Click. My allergies were bothering me. They didn't bother me the last two days when I took them. Click. Oh crap - what are the side effects for Singulair? Click. So I looked it up, and here's what it says (online):

SINGULAIR may cause serious side effects.

Behavior and mood-related changes have been reported. Tell your healthcare provider right away if you or your child have any of these symptoms while taking SINGULAIR: 

• agitation including aggressive behavior or hostility
• bad or vivid dreams
• depression
• disorientation (confusion)
• feeling anxious
• hallucination (seeing or hearing things that are not really there)

• irritability
• restlessness
• sleep walking
• suicidal thoughts and actions (including suicide)
• tremor
• trouble sleeping

Great. That's the problem with any type of synthetic medications - side effects. Loads of them, too! Of course, I'm not feeling most of these, just a mild case of the blues (and maybe some agitation and irritability and anxiety), but still, maybe I'm going to skip the Singulair tomorrow and put a call in to my doctor. Just in case. Of course, I researched this after I took it this afternoon because my allergies were driving me crazy. Eh, we'll see how I feel tomorrow. I'm just happy to know that maybe this is just a side effect of the medication and I'm not depressed about turning older! ;)

Miami Skyline

I never get tired of seeing the Miami skyline. Or maybe it's because I don't see it that often that every time I have to drive towards Downtown and enter the highway, either from US1 or from 836), I suck my breath in and hold it for a few seconds. Awe washes over me and I feel poetic. You'd never think concrete buildings, glass, and towering structures could do that, but they do. As much as I feel I belong in the country (because, really, I'm a country, mountain girl at heart), the city sights really do it for me.

Today was one of those days. After rushing out of a doctor's appointment, and needing to head up north for a meeting, I decided to take a different route, one that took me by the city's center. As soon as my car entered the lanes of I95, I felt the change. The towers of white, gray and green rose from the side of the bridges and I inhaled sharply. It's beautiful. On either side of me, the buildings grew. Blues and yellows came in focus, adding to the palate. The glass window panels of the buildings reflected the sun; we had no rain today, so the clouds couldn't take away from the beauty.

The most striking part about this scenery is the contrast of wealth and poverty. I guess it's like this in many centers, but on that drive on I95, the differences are sharp. The roads need work, the cement sides are peeling, with graffiti in some corners. New buildings are erected everywhere, next to dilapidated towers, some barely standing. Camillus House stands next to the highway, reminding travelers of the reality of the homeless that, in this plummeting economy, have grown in number.

The pictures of the skyline are abundant. It's fed into advertisements for tourism precisely because of its beauty. It's undeniably impressive. But just looking at the buildings, really looking, gives us a glimpse beyond the facade.