September 28: Horrible Person, Feeling Crappy, Looking Ahead

Okay, I was a horrible person last night.  My writer friend from the university gave me some really good (and some seemingly impossible) suggestions for my new collection of poems yesterday.  I went home and started rewriting last night.  It didn't go well, and I developed a really bitchy attitude.  I kept showing my wife revisions, and she wasn't liking the things I was showing her.  Of course, what I wanted her to say was, "That looks great, sweetie.  You're the best writer on the planet."  She's way too honest to say that.  Instead, after about the twentieth time I glared at her and snatched a rewritten poem away from her, she rightfully said, "I don't want to read any more."  I lapsed into sullen silence and despair.  She went to bed.

I tried to work a little more on the manuscript, but nothing sounded right.  I gave up, read a few pages of a book from a really good writer, and then went for a walk at about 10:30 p.m.  It was unseasonably warm but foggy.  I'm talking can't-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face foggy.  The walk, however, managed to clear my mind of all the thoughts of self-harm I was having.  (When I say self-harm, I mean going to the freezer and eating a gallon of French vanilla ice cream or about a dozen banana popsicles.)

When I got back home, I got in my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and went to bed.  I didn't fall asleep right away.  I was too preoccupied with revisions to immediately succomb to exhaustion.  However, I finally drifted off around midnight.  When I woke up at 4:07 a.m., my first thought was about the manuscript.  However, my mood was considerably lightener.  It's amazing what four hours of sleep can do for you.

I'm still feeling crappy about the way I treated my wife last night, and I intend to apologize when I phone her in a little while.  But I'm trying to move forward, not skid into a mineshaft backwards and blindfolded.  I have work to get done, and I will get it done.  That manuscript will be in the mail tomorrow, no matter what.  After all, I've got a Nobel to accept in a couple of months, right?

Saint Marty's keeping his eyes on the prize.

The way my night went last night

April 2: Rewriting, Routine, Psalm 25

Well, my daughter made it home around 3 a.m.  It is now around 3 p.m., and she is currently taking a nap.  I made the mistake of getting her up too early this morning to go to McDonald's for breakfast, and she turned into the little girl, Regan, from The Exorcist.  Right before she fell asleep, she told me everybody hated her and she was going to run away.  I'm sure she'll be in a much better mood after a few hours of sleep.

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you know that I treasure routine.  I am such a creature of habit that if I even change what I usually order at a restaurant, my wife looks as if she doesn't recognize me.  She usually says something like, "Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"  I don't like surprises.  Surprises have been nasty, life-altering experiences for me.  One of my best friend's husbands pretty much summed up my motto once:  "What's wrong with sameness?"  Amen, brother.

However, when it comes to writing, I bend that rule quite a bit.  If you have been following my psalms, you may have noticed that I sometimes make changes to the poems after I post them.  The poem you read yesterday may have been tweaked, revised, or reworded today.  It's all in the effort to make my poems the best I can make them.  That also goes for regular blog posts.  If I notice a typo or misspelling as I'm reviewing them, I make a change.  That's the English professor in me.  I can't stand sloppy writing.  So, if you're a visitor to my blog and notice an error, drop me a comment so I can fix it.

Saint Marty dedicates the psalm for today to his best friend's husband, the Dalai Lama of Routine.

Psalm 25:  In Praise of Sameness

Each morning, I rise at the same time,
4:15 a.m.  I eat the same breakfast:
Two soft eggs, a piece of toast, unbuttered.
I drink the same kind of soft drink,
Two cans of Diet Mountain Dew.  I work
Until 10:40 a.m.  Then I drive to campus,
Teach a literature class from 11 a.m.
Until 12:30 p.m.  I walk back to my office,
Where I hold office hours from 12:45
Until 1:40 p.m.  I drive back to my other
Office, work from 1:47 p.m. to 4:53 p.m.
I drive home, arrive at 5:19 p.m.  I eat
Dinner at 5:42 p.m.  Hot dogs and eggs
Or turkey breast and mashed potatoes.
Maybe stir fry with broccoli, chicken.
I drive my daughter to religion class
At 6 p.m.  Pick her up at 6:45 p.m.
Take her to ballet class.  7 p.m.  Pick
Her up at 7:50 p.m.  Drive home.  8:09 p.m.
Make sure my daughter takes a shower.
Prepare lunches, set out tomorrow's clothes.
Get my daughter to bed by 8:47 p.m.
Correct papers, prepare lesson plans.
Until 10:12 p.m.  Brush.  Floss.  Bed.
10:38 p.m.  I give God thanks for this
Sameness.  Regularity.  Routine.  The gift
Of no surprises.  Surprises bring
Bronchitis to babies.  Brake jobs
When you expect oil changes.  Pulmonary
Embolism after Caesaerean section.
Breast cancer in your 80-year-old father.
A roof leak after a hard winter.
Unemployment after 20 years on the job.
Loss of health insurance.  Loss of home.
Planes flying into skyscrapers,
Soldiers in sand, in mountain cave.
Peaceful protest becoming bomb mission,
Collateral damage, instead of transition,
Peace.  I praise God for sunrises, sunsets,
Stars, moon, planets, universe all in place.
I praise the God of habit, of the mundane.
I praise the God of unbuttered toast.  Dry.  Plain.

Praise God for sameness!!