It’s Friday

I’ve been waiting all week for it to be Friday! All. Week. Why? Because I’m officially finished with my first semester of my MFA program and I’m not gonna lie, it feels better than I thought it would. Like way better. This was a tough semester, y’all, in a tough year, with some tough moments, and I don’t just mean the political climate, or the pandemic, but I’ve had one of the toughest years in the last decade mentally and emotionally and physically too and I am so looking forward for reasons to celebrate. Today, I have one.

Woohoo! School’s out for one month!

Of course I’m reading for next semester already. And I’m reading for a literature contest, and I’m trying to learn to read for fun again, and I’ll be working on revisions from work I did this semester and I’ll be trying to come up with ideas for all my fictions classes next semester, but still, you know, no deadlines for a month! Woohoo!

Oh, and the holidays at home with my people, just Jerimiah and Jackson and the dogs and me. This pandemic has pulled us all so close that I’m afraid what will happen when life goes back to normal. But, I can’t worry about that today. Today is for celebrating! And maybe eating pizza and ice cream, and certainly watching some old episodes of “The Gilmore Girls” or maybe a sad-ass crime documentary, I don’t know! There are so many possibilities!

Whatever you are doing today, do it with a little pep in your step, y’all because as Rebecca Black would say, “It’s Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday!”

M.

Changing Times

Struggling this week. Few weeks left in my shortened semester. My first semester back in grad school. My last first semester. It’s been rough, tougher than usual. For all of us. Residency took all my energy last week. Now it’s time for writing papers. Now it’s time for sleeping less. Now it’s time for picking up slack from that weekend I went to the pumpkin patch or played board games with my boys. Now it’s long days at my desk, sore knees and wrists. Running to rummage something up for dinner in between workshop Zoom calls and more reading. Now the cold is setting in.

I’m not complaining. Geez, I know it seems like I am. I do recognize my situation is pretty good. All things considered. And I do wish other’s were just as good. I don’t want to complain. I don’t mean to complain.

The air is changing. The semester is changing. The world is changing. I want to think it’s all changing for the good. I want to feel that way, but I don’t. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Probably tomorrow.

I hope your changing times are okay. Are hopeful and necessary. Are as pain free as they can be.

M.

Is Today Wednesday?

I keep thinking, as the weeks go by, that I will remember what it is like to be in grad school. The skills I learned the first time around might come back to me as suddenly as Cinderella losing her slippers at midnight. But alas, there is no pumpkin turned coach this week. No tiny mice running around behind the scenes helping me out. Well, there was a dead mouse in the basement, but that’s a different story better saved for a different day.

Today I’m confused about what day it is. Today I’m trying to keep track which poetry book I’m caught up on, which craft essay is due first, and whether or not I’ll sneeze and fart at the same time on one of my many Zoom calls this week. It’s a lot.

To top it off, Jackson is in the middle of MAP testing. Virtually. Jerimiah is in the midst of budget season, and we have the holidays around the corner. Sometimes it feels like I’m running but not getting anywhere. I’m the treadmill of life I suppose. The damn treadmill of life.

I hope you’re making ground today.

Oh, it is Wednesday.

Make it a good one!

M.

Grad School and Other Stresses

Sometimes I’m so overwhelmed by all that I have to do that I sort of spiral into a moment (or several consecutive moments) of hell right before my family’s loving eyes. That’s the thing that happened Wednesday. Luckily, Jackson was outside traipsing through the woods with his friend Bella and wasn’t privy to my “breakdown” of sorts. But Jerimiah saw it all. (Long sigh). Sorry, Jerimiah.

Wednesday it was all the things. You know those days, right? It’s copy editing time on the lit review. I have my first presentation next week. I missed workshop this week and a Southern Fiction meeting all to celebrate Jackson’s birthday. I’m not sad about those decisions, we had a great time celebrating, but it does put me behind.

I haven’t read ALL week. Ugh.

Then there’s the fact that my kid turned twelve yesterday. TWELVE, y’all. That’s an existential crisis just waiting to happen. So far I’ve kept it at bay, mainly because I don’t have the time to spiral totally out of control right now, but man, Thanksgiving break is probably gonna be rough.

We have been celebrating the 12 days of turning 12, and while it’s mainly been fun, you know for a Momma it’s also mainly been stressful. Trying to balance all the secret events, special surprises, the cakes, favorite dinners, and that look of inevitable disappointment when he opens what he suspects is a video game and it turns out to be a book. Man. Managing other people’s expectations is hard.

BUT, we made it. We did right? Like, it’s Friday, right?! I sure hope so.

Let’s say this, if I made it through this week, I’m sure y’all did too. And I’m sure it was rough as hell, as most weeks are nowadays. I mean, did you even catch the highlights of the presidential debate?! Ugh.

But look at you! Look at me! We did it!

Now take a load off.

I love y’all.

M.

Grad School

Yous guys, this MFA program I’m headed into in the fall got me buggin’. Like, I’m NERVOUS. One, I don’t like most people. Two, I am definitely afraid of new people. Three, I’m just learning how to take myself seriously as a writer. Four, Imposter Syndrome. This isn’t my first rodeo. Five, I gotta stop making lists. That’s why I’m in the mess I’m in today, I made a list. I made a mental list of all the ways I could fuck up grad school and the list is exhaustive. I won’t share it now, cause most of it is bogus and you’d be like, really, Missy? And then I’d have to defend how crazy and dumb I am, and I’m not good at defending myself, which meeeeeans (making full circle motions with my hands) when I have to defend a BOOK LENGTH work at the end of this program I will die. Literally. Then the ghost of Missy will have to finish the program, and honestly, I don’t trust that bitch. She shady.

So why did I even do this? Why did I even apply for an MFA program? That’s a great question you guys, and one I don’t have an answer for. I’m hoping to write my way to answer, meanwhile I’ll just sit here and wonder about all the ways I am meant to watch my life ignite, sizzle, and burst into flames.

Stand back.

M.