Internet Explorer users may need to widen their browser windows to span all three columns. Or download Firefox.


Monday, January 15, 2007

Thanks for visiting. I am no longer updating Notes to Self. I hope you'll join me on my current website, PlantingDandelions.com

An open book



I am not young enough, or naked enough to get good photographs done for free anymore. I am okay with that; I had my picture made a lot in my twenties and then with the the babies, and I felt like I would wait until I had a few deeper lines in my face before having more done. But I need to pull together some biographical/publicity material for my trip to Ireland next month, and in my most recent set of professional prints, I am seven months pregnant and busting out of a silk nightie. Probably not suitable, even for those swinging, boho Europeans.

I wish I lived in California and was friends with this this amazing photographer so I could beg her to make my picture and get one of these from her for the courage to be apart from my babies and on the road with my poems for two whole weeks. Because while it sounds all very exciting right now, at some point in the near future there will be the whole Atlantic Ocean between me and mine, and Skype won't give me the smell of their hair.

Between you and me, that's probably the real reason I have been putting off getting this pr stuff together. I tell everybody else (like the people waiting for it) it's just because I hate bios. That's partly true. It feels ridiculous writing about yourself in third person, and I've always thought that the work should speak for itself. But then I found this terrific poem in an anthology and was all like, oh my god, who wrote this, and there was a bio in the back that was a say-nothing one-liner, like mine usually are. I was beyond frustrated. I wanted to know everything, and I got nothing. Zilch. I felt like I'd been slapped with a restraining order.

So I took my own picture and I wrote the damn thing (posted over here, for the curious—please don't tell the other poets I have a blog, or the other bloggers that I am a poet). The plane tickets have been booked for months. The children are excited about seeing their grandmother. I am lining up an eclectic roster of guest posters to help out here while I am gone. All the details are pretty much taken care of. I have nothing left to do for the next six weeks but panic.

Labels:

6 Comments:

Anonymous Nat said...

Don't panic! Think of the lovely foreign food! Think of the Guiness! Think of how happy and refreshed you'll be when you get home!

And also, think about bringing me back some aniseed balls. Please.

PS) I cannot even findyour blogroll, so even though I read your post about it, I'm not apparently bright enough to find it.

11:41 PM  
Anonymous Nat said...

I meant Guinness. Am not drunk. Swear.

11:43 PM  
Blogger scribbit said...

How fun--what a great trip. Have a good time.

12:29 AM  
Blogger littlepurplecow said...

Please share the bio! Being gone makes coming home so much sweeter. Enjoy your time to sink into yourself.

1:17 AM  
Anonymous lilalia said...

Ah, moms… we are all such hypocrites. The tearing away from our loved ones. The long list of things to do for those we leave behind as babysitters: they really might no know how to grocery shop or do laundry once we are out of the house. The tearful goodbyes. Even, as in my case, the hysterical accusations: (me to husband) “Why are you forcing me to take this trip?” (husband, feeling wrongly done by, to me) “It was your idea, you made the plans, and you paid for the ticket!” (me to husband) “That’s not the point. If you loved me, you won’t have encouraged me to go!” (sighing husband) “I just truly want you to be happy. Go. We will be fine. Don’t worry…”

And then, whoosh, the moment the plane takes off, the world-is-mine feeling bubbles up and our spirits begin to fly higher than any jumbo jet: time is mine, the shower is mine, uninterrupted conversations are mine, food is mine, choosing who I share company with is mine… the list goes on and on.

Still, you might as well reap all the sympathy you can during the next six weeks. It is your right as a mother, but don’t be surprised when the world-is-mine feeling strikes and makes it impossible to take that smug smile off your face. Maybe you shouldn’t bring your webcam on the trip.

3:21 AM  
Blogger Kyran said...

Thanks, Lilia, I needed to hear it. :) My husband is accompanying me, our first trip away together in eight years. Yet another reason not to bring the webcam.

Nat, you are on the blogroll with friends and family, since you are both. Also, will the aniseed become aggressive, if I grab their balls??

LittlePurpleCow, I will post the bio over on the poetry page.

thanks, scribbit! every well wish is an ativan pill I don't have to take.

6:53 AM  

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.

<< Home