2016 in Photos

Updates aside, here is my 2016 in photos. I have still been taking photos and livin' life best I can down in the deep South, but I have been lousy about actually posting photos anywhere for people to see.

Hoping to change that in 2017, but for now, here's a bit of what my year was like:
(all photos from my camera, though some taken by my friends of me, AKA Cody.)

January

February

March

 April

 

May

June

July

August

 

September

October

November

December

That's all folks. Now to catch up on a year's worth of photo posting on my other social media profiles.
♥

Professional Updates!

This past semester I was seemingly the luckiest little duck in all of Creative Writing MA world. A part of me kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, even though people keep telling me "good things happen to good people" and that "my time had come." Bologna.

Still, I was able to do a bunch of cool stuff so I figured I would map it out a little here on my personal blog. I had the opportunity to read for 4 different online publications, including both literary magazines produced by my program. I read more fiction this semester than any time in my whole life, to be honest, and I feel completely changed in both good and bad ways. "Personal growth" is what they call it. Starting on almost the first day of the year I began reading/judging for an online publication called Best of the Net, which is a round-up of the best stuff published through online literary magazines of the previous year. It really puts a spotlight on online publishing which is often not taken as seriously as print.

Shortly after that I read for The Mississippi Review prize issue which is released twice a year (Summer issue, prize winning work and finalists; Winter issue, solicited work) and gets hundreds of submissions. That one was probably the most grueling, but only because I read 85 stories in a month on top of coursework, but it was cool to get a taste of the editor life, and I quite liked it to be honest.

(I also had photos featured on their site here + here + here.)

Shortly after that I was asked to guest edit an issue of my friend's and past employer's literary magazine Stirring (and contribute the cover photo!). I really like Stirring and was really flattered that they asked me to help out that month even though I am primarily a fiction reader/writer. Reading poetry does make me feel really productive though. While under the influence of poem-brain, I sent a lot of important emails, had an idea for an anthology, and I might have finished all of my homework that night! (Not sure about that last one, but I could have, who knows? The effects of poem-brain are sprawling.)

The last big thing I worked on was a labor of love undertaken by my publishing class. The 8 of us gathered submissions, picked our favorites, voted on cover photos, planned our launch party, and even more knit-picky stuff that isn't worth explaining here. My big project with this issue was designing the website. I enthusiastically volunteered to design every page of the site using Squarespace, because I really wanted the experience. I am crazy proud of what I created. It's pretty simple, but after starting with a blank template and a lot of trial and error, I think I ended up with something comparable to other online magazines that is also easy to navigate. Oh yeah, it's called Product.

(My photo again!)

OTHER COOL STUFF:

I got the chance to partner with Zoetic Press on two titles for online only e-books! Probably the coolest thing ever. In the spring when I attended the AWP Conference in Los Angeles, Zoetic was handing out homemade buttons with the book covers on them! It's crazy to have a mini-version of my photo on my backpack. I should have been doing this for years!

As always, thanks for everything, whoever you are.

2015, post-

To take a page from my friend and thoughtful blogger, Brittany Chavez, here is a review of my 2015, post-application season, post-relationship, post-old me. One picture either of me or by me from each month of my 2015, which began at the end of May.

I didn't mean to lose so many people this year or so much of myself, but the gains have been more rewarding than I could have ever imagined. This past year was the best and scariest year of my life and I am proud of it. I worked for it. I haven't felt this way about a year in quite a long time, and because of that I don't feel like a "good riddance" or a "smell ya later" quite fits for 2015. I think the best way for me to send it off would be with a "thank you."

So, 2016, give me your worst and I'll try and weather it.


may

june

july

august

september

october



























november

december

***

The Trees

I'm not sure if this has anything to do with how I turned out, but the day I moved to Mississippi my Dad called me and said (in a voice that sounded like a game show host), Are you ready for the first day of the rest of your life? And I wasn't ready because I was still running errands, packing boxes, and trying to feign preparedness for the next two years of my life, though they remained 100% a mystery to me. My Dad is both sentimental and funny, (sound familiar?) so off-hand silly comments like this from him are a crucial part of his parenting and advice-giving. These comments have proven to be remarkably apt recently, especially in a conversation we had the other day.

I had called my Mom to talk about money, because I am very good at having it but not particularly good at keeping it, and she put my Dad on. While I was catching up with him and detailing my school life and how hectic it has been, I started talking about future assignments and what all I have to complete before finally driving back for Christmas. He said:

You know how to eat an elephant?

No, how?

One bite at a time.

And though people had been telling me that for weeks, to take things just one day at a time, hearing that advice echoed in this totally spot-on Dad way struck me in a way I didn't expect. I had been hearing this advice and giving this advice to others, but not really putting it into practice in a real way.

This has been my challenge. I am trying to be a good student and plan ahead, but just looking at my calendar sends me into a panic. The weeks all seem so close together on the page! It's one thing after another for me now. No rest. Even this fall break that I'm on is just an excuse to be distracted from my homework. In my weaker moments, I am thinking about the entire semester, the entire two-year program all at once: papers, teaching, reading, writing. It is all too, too much.

Usually the phrase goes that people "can't see the forest for the trees", but my problem is that I can see the forest and it frightens me. If I can think about just today or just this week, and shrink my to-do lists down to bite-size portions, I think I can do it.

One tree at a time, he says.

Pre & Post

I'm okay! Don't panic! (You weren't panicking, I know, but I WAS.) I won't spend time here describing these last few months to you in detail, but I have been riding a huge wave of change and I still feel on top of it, though it's getting increasingly harder to stay that way.

I moved by myself to Mississippi into a little house with a friend-of-a-friend and I started graduate school for fiction writing. Since my last post I have felt everything there is to feel and every feeling I never expected to feel. My independence and hope for the future had me bursting with pride. My loneliness had me missing my friends, the people whose support sent me away. My confidence and new direction turned me into a light and I gave someone my exhausted heart.

My first full day here after my move I was so shell shocked and uncomfortable (and hungover) that I went to a Starbucks and a movie and tucked my mile-long to-do list into the bottom of my bag. I knew there was a cool local coffee shop down the street, but I was seeking some sort of peace and comfort from the familiar, so I went to a place that looks the same in every city (hey, I could have gone to Walmart, but I didn't, plus my hangover helper is a large soy iced coffee and one of those sausage, egg, and cheese sandwiches). It helped about as much as it could.

Since that first day I've been slowly sinking into life here. I've learned where to park, been getting to know my roommate, and finally letting myself fully grasp that I made it into this program. It has taken some time and will continue to take time for me to feel ownership over my achievements and remind myself that everything I have has been earned and is not just a lucky streak. Graduate school is really hard, especially since my program is an MA (I spent some time mourning the loss of my F, yes) and my academic achievements are just as crucial to my success as my creative ones, but it has been a nice change to be constantly working and pushing and trying.

When I am explaining my life now to my friends (I'm so sorry to my friends, because I have been so neglectful since I've been here.. new life will do that to you, I guess) it's always structured around the major events of the last few months. Everything is either pre-moving or post-moving, pre-break-up or post-break-up.

Before or after.

This year has been a real before and after for me. Both halves have scared me in different ways, but I am grateful for the places I've been and trying to keep my eye on where I'm going.

Talent is nothing but a long patience.

(Maupassant)

Updates

I have completely forgotten how to take self-portraits. This is me on the porch the other day and I was feeling so robotic trying to figure out what to do with my hands and face. I'm surprised I got at least a sort of natural looking portrait. I could not stop doing weird poses or trying to "do nothing" and just looking really ticked off or asleep. What do people want to look at in a portrait? I could take glamorous head shots all day, but the point of taking photos of myself has always been to see. It's an attempt to see myself in a different way or to try and embody the person I want to be seen as. I don't know. Either way it's always been a big thing in my life, self portraits, and I think it will continue to be a thing.

So, I have three jobs. My first job is at a coffee shop. This job is physically demanding, meaning that I show up, be charming, be helpful, be responsible, and work in the most literal sense. It can take up to 30 hours of my weeks, most times. Sometimes there are in the early mornings, late nights, or in that sweet spot: 10am - 5pm. When people ask where I work I say, "I am a barista."

My second job is with Sundress (Publication and Academy for the Arts). At this job I sit at my computer, send a lot of e-mails, write press releases, draft contracts, and when I don't have time I tell the interns to do it. Other times, a big part of this job is showing up. We have a lot of events, retreats, readings, booths at festivals, and these all require me to show up. As such a small organization, the best we can do it show up and talk to to people. I have worked my way from intern, to assistant in development, to assistant to the director of it all, my friend Erin. When people ask me where else I work I say something like, "It's a non-profit in town that wants to grow the artist and writer community in Knoxville.. we do events and workshops. I don't get paid."

Lately, I've been feeling like my third job is all the rest of it. All the things I want to be and want to do and NEED to do. There are so many muscles that I want to work and so many things I would like to incorporate into my daily routine. Can I exercise more, sing and play more, write more, see my friends more, take pictures more? I guess I am not good at doing one task at a time. I see the forest right now and not the trees. I have this motivational quote framed on my wall that says, "A good plan today is better than a perfect plan tomorrow," and I have been trying trying to hear that and wing it, but I fail. I have so much stress to talk about and share with the world but it really inhibits my progress. This "third job" is the most important to my well being, but gets shoved in the background so often. I think this is because the only person to disappoint at this job is me, and I am maybe too forgiving. These things are my heart and soul, and creation is really all there is when it is all said and done. I graduated college two years ago this week and I feel like I am still only taking baby steps towards who I want to be daily. When people ask me what I want to do I say, "I want to be a writer." I don't say, "I want to feel content and balanced."

Trying not to beat myself up about it all,

you are here

I found myself singing this Oasis lyric the other day:

All the roads you have to walk are winding,
and all the lights the lead the way are blinding.

And it is speaking to me now in a deep way, which feels corny because I haven't listened to this song on purpose since I was about fifteen years old.

A lot of people recently have been giving me input on my path in life. They've said travel! or when are you guys getting married!? or  how are you going to make money for the rest of your life?! These pieces of advice feel helpful coming from them, but as the recipient they feel like a list of my shortcomings. I nod and smile, but if you wanted to see a list of things that I am not accomplishing currently, there it is.

I remembered recently that there is such a thing as a quarter-life crisis and I'M IN IT, GUYS. I get it.

I can't stop thinking about where I am and how I got to be here, both physically and in my mind. I know thinking isn't ground-breaking, but these universal, sometimes cliché, big life questions are taking over my thoughts. Am I making moves and decisions that will help me instead of hurt me? I understand this fear doesn't go away, but I am somewhere because of the decisions I've made, and I've got to tell myself constantly that it's where I'm supposed to be. It's a beautiful lie. It's good and necessary. You can't change where you've been.

I am here.

A cold and rainy January kind of Knoxville

I just finished Gilmore Girls, and watching Rory graduate college, move out of her apartment, and send out a thousand and one resumes all in the same week was exhausting. Why does everything in life have to come to a head the minute you graduate college? I went on a freaking vacation and quit my part-time job when I was finished. Her actions felt completely strange to me. Why could she not have stayed in her apartment, her town, and made a living while applying for jobs? There is no rule that says you have to totally abandon your city in search of greener pastures once you finish your degree. If I would have moved home after graduation, there is no way I would be going to graduate school in the fall. I would probably still be happy living somewhere in Nashville and working at a desk, but I would not be doing this and writing what I'm writing.

It is really nice to have a plan after graduation and a job lined up, but it's also very nice to just not. These past two years out of school I've met great people who work their asses off to get things done, and not for profit. For art. For art! I've completely felt at home in Knoxville. I feel like I can be an adult here and the relationships I've made were not because of my parents or my high school. These people like me and root for me.. the adult me. I've been transformed by time and conversations; my peers and professors.

There is so much pressure to have a plan and move in on it right away. There is so much room for regret in my life, but do I have to let it in? Would it change me or slow me down?

A happy plant.

Because of social media, I am still connected to most of the people I had a relationship with in high school, and so many who are my age are getting engaged, married, and having children. I am very supportive of these people. I could not be happier for them and I will cry-slash-have cried at all of their weddings, but they are following their own plans. That's all I want. That's what they want.

I don't feel ready to have a marriage or a baby. My dad brought up to me the other weekend that him and my mom were my age when they got married, and I'm not sure what he was trying to tell me by mentioning that. Am I not measuring up? Is the fact that I don't want to get married in the next year or have a kid in the next 5 disappointing to my family? Because I don't feel disappointed. I feel like me. I know they would support me no matter what and would never tell me that I am wrong for living my life differently, but I can't help but feel people pushing at me from all sides to start my life, meaning find my husband, get a nine-to-five job, and have a kid.

Hello! My life has started! Look and see!

A Saturday morning at work.

Luckily, all around me there are still so many hands raising me up and telling me to write about my life, share my work with others, and find my happy; Whether that means being married, single, straight, queer, a masters student, a barista, or a pregnant housewife.

I apologize that this post is mega-long, but it is what has been permeating my thoughts for the last few months, and I am glad to have it out and written somewhere.

All my love and guts and support,

What I've Been Reading

    

I've been really trying to work reading back into my normal life recently. Turns out the easiest way to do that is to pick up a bestselling thriller about marriage, revenge, and the dangers of marrying a sociopath. (Don't do it, by the way.) Gone Girl was really great, though some people find some problems with the story. Honestly, I just really like to be that person who says the book was better after they watch the movie, so I did. And the book was better, but the movie was still sufficiently creepy. 

While I'm on the topic of reading so I can retain my moral superiority, I also devoured Paper Towns because the movie is coming out in June. This is my third John Green novel and probably my favorite so far. I have a complicated relationship with John Green because I would love to hang out with him and I watch all his videos on YouTube (like ALL of them), but when it comes to reading his books... I don't love them. I could listen to him talk about writing all day, but I am never really impressed. If someone told me they really liked me but didn't care for my writing I probably would think either 1. they were lying to me, or 2. my work is not where it should be. I'm not trying to say he isn't a good writer, because I am struggling and not famous, but I think over the years his books and voice will change and I'm looking forward to following and supporting the impending transition. Anyway, writing is such a personal experience. Even writing fiction is like breaking off teeny pieces of your world and puzzling them together in a different way. It would be hard for me to separate myself from my work. Maybe that's a sign of naivety, I don't know. Sometimes I think it has everything to do with his content and the fact that I am 24, but I feel like that shouldn't matter. Who knows. 

This book hit me differently. There was a mystery and a boy pining after a girl he barely knows. I totally get pining. I pined hard. Pining involves never stopping to imagine the actual functionality of the relationship. This book was all about relationships and trying not to define them before you've experienced them. This book had real momentum. Anyway, John Green, if you ever read this, write some creative nonfiction, a memoir or otherwise, I would probably love it. 

Creative nonfiction, guys! Sarah Vowell, in my life at least, is famous for sharing her stories on This American Life. Most notably she did a beautiful and funny show on how she and her sister road-tripped across the southern United States following the Trail of Tears and trying to reconcile their conflicting heritages. That story and more, including one where Ira Glass tries to teach her how to drive, are in this book. It took me awhile to finish it all, but it was a really satisfying read.

Next up: I'm finishing all of the John Green titles with An Abundance of Katherines and Will Grayson, Will Grayson and also trying to take another chunk out of this huuuuge Raymond Carver short story collection that I borrowed from the bookshelves at my work over a year ago. Oops.

The Lemons

The when life gives you.. kind. I got 'em.

I knew I would get rejected from some, if not most, of the graduate schools that I applied to, but that doesn't make the rejection sting any less. Especially when it comes from an e-mail that, with no prior warning just appears in my inbox: "Dear, [insert applicant's name here], We thank you for your interest in our Master of Fine Arts Program in Creative Writing. We received many excellent applications this term for a few competitive spots and unfortunately we cannot offer you admission into our program at this time." 

It's feels like getting dumped by a robot. Sometimes, my mind will wander and I will start to dwell on the really real possibility that I could be rejected by every school. Eleven digital no-thank-yous. I joke to Daniel that if that ends up happening that I would still want to move away, back to Nashville or something, just to escape the embarrassment of explaining why I never left  for graduate school.  I know it would be a bad choice, made out of pride and shame, since the people who inspired me to apply in the first place and who encouraged my work are here. And they'll still be here and I will still be me, where ever I go. I will still probably not write enough and take a desk job and dream about working in a writer's room and creating characters who are so wrong and so exceptional at the same time.

The lemonade of the whole situation is that while I feel really beat down by these decisions, I simultaneously feel motivated.  The more I hear no, the more I want to work and improve. A part of me will crumble if it turns out that I'm not a good fit at any of the schools that I've applied to, but I think and hope that a part of me will rise from it. Like, maybe I didn't work hard enough before, but the end is far from me. Maybe this is a sign that I don't belong in the world of book-writing and journal-submitting and small publishing. It could be a sign that I'm just knocking on the wrong door with this whole graduate school school thing, but I still can't shake the fact that I've worked so hard on these applications and spent a large amount of money from my savings account. I can't add: "Work was rejected by eleven perfectly good graduate schools" to my CV. It still happened.

It only takes one yes to make me a masters candidate, which is sort of maddening, but the most positive thing that I can meditate on these days. One yes in the pack. One person on one panel who thinks my stories and talents are worth fooling around with.

I'm still here. I'm still here. I'm still here.

I am, I am, I am

worried.