Today a friend told me that my enthusiasm for nearly everything (plants! rocks! books! t-shirts! this thing I saw! my crazy cat! better buses!) was one of my more charming qualities. That was nice, because I have been criticized for that very thing in the past. And since my skin is as thin as peeling paint, had held to it as a flaw for years.
I also watched a little boy try to figure out a mannequin at work today. We have some clothes at my fancy grocery store, and right now there are sweat pants and a sweatshirt on our tall manly mannie. The mannequin itself is just a torso on metal rod-legs--no head, hands or feet. The boy looked to be three or four, maybe a small five. He looked up at the dad-like shape and then slowly brought each hand next to where legs would have been, but only loose fleece hung. He moved his hands in very slowly, like he was trying to hug the tall guy. But also like he was trying to figure out where the legs started. He looked up to where the head would be. His expression was questioning, rather than worried. He just seemed to be trying to work it out.
I submitted a poem to someplace today. Putting poems out there freaks me out. It is easy for people to make fun of poems and poets and see above for my relative skin thickness. Also, I have no idea if my poems are any good or not. I know a really good poem when I read it, but I have no palate for the range that starts in "pretty crummy" territory and ends up in "quite nice, actually." As though it's a frequency my ears can't hear. So, maybe the poems I write are clever or cute--but not "good." Or maybe they're "pretty good except for this one thing." I don't know. And it is so hard to not imagine somewhere, someone reading them and chuckling in embarrassment--for me.
A conversation in the comments at The Rumpus led me to a new blog: Molly Says. I don't have a blogroll thing on this site (should I?) but I do love Molly's tone and I can relate to a lot of her posts.
Oh yeah: One of my flash fiction pieces was accepted! This one is going to appear in Thunderclap! Press Spring 2011 issue.
That's it, and somehow it is late again. I spent the whole evening talking to a couple of old friends instead of writing. I really miss talking to old friends. One of them wants me to move to NYC if school doesn't work out this time. Could I get an undergraduate degree (in science) there without going into debt? If I were a resident? Does anyone know? It's the lack of sleep talking anyway--I'm totally going to get into school this year.