Spring Resolutions

Maybe the reason why people (okay, me) don't get New Years resolutions done is because we try to carry them out in the dead of winter when just getting through the day ought to be proof enough that we have resolve. So I'm proposing spring resolutions. Here are some of mine:
I'm not going to eat chocolate in bed even though there are three big candy bars and three bags of Easter candy in my bedside table. I bought them for Pin and Big, so maybe (notice this is not a definite) I should mail them to them.
I'm going to get the house power washed this weekend even if it's too rainy to start painting the section that needs to be done before I can get my raised bed in front (long story, but there's no more bush there thanks to an huge plumbing job last fall) ready.
I'm going to maintain a positive attitude about my upcoming online class (summer, bus com) even though I'm not convinced Angel is not the "delivery mechanism" for this kid.
I'm going to stop thinking that I'm so deprived because I'm trying to eat like a healthy adult rather than a six year old whose parents indulge her. And I'm not going to blame Mrs. Murphy for actually letting me be indulged as far as food goes. Really, isn't that water under the bridge? Maybe I should blame Mr. Murphy because he's the one who took me to the Sears' candy counter on Saturdays, but really who can blame him? I was a pretty cute (and really skinny) little kid at the time.
I'm going to stop waking up freaked out because I had another dream. It must be a side effect of the Savella, but I'm not used to dreaming. Having dreams doesn't mean I have to spend the first fifteen minutes of my day pondering their characters, events, settings, whatever. They are dreams; it's what I do while I'm awake that matters.

How about you? Any spring resolutions you'd like to put down in print?
MNYAGG

No Internet!!!!!!

at home. It's my fault. I had a great post too, but it involves pictures and such. Hopefully, Nick will bring a LAN cable to my house tonight. Hopefully I'll be back soon.
MNYAGG

It's spring and you know what happens in spring

That's right, it's almost National Poetry Month, that time of year when poets get all juicy because they think that since there's a month for it maybe people actually read poetry. And I'm right there with the rest of them, so I'm gonna kick it off, albeit early, with two poems from that little little known poet, me. These were just published in Yes, Poetry.

THIS IS NOT A POEM ABOUT ICARUS

As if he didn’t fly toward that sun when the sky was sliced in two,
Choosing instead to turn north toward colder climes, whereupon
His wax and feathers froze and Odin spoke saying “all curious boys
Commend themselves to wrong turns sometimes, but you flew
Right and straight this time, handing off the burdens of avarice and
Infamy.” Icarus, not knowing what to say really, surveyed the heights
To which he had aspired. He counted one: I am going to cast out all
My hopes of warmth, and two: freedom’s just another word for
Nothin’ left to lose. The song ringing true in his head, Icarus looked up
And saw his blood blue number written on the sky. “When I am 33,”
He said, “I will die then and all the world will love me.”





ALIEN, MY LOVE MONSTER

Far away, you dream my belly
The one with the line down the middle
Through which babies came sprawling into the world
The one you’ve neither seen nor touched
Years ago I went to New York in spring
And bought you a book, first edition
Signed by a poet you loved and emulated
Your lines like his held out only so much
Until restraint took over
Secrets back in the box, yours, his, mine
The book my small offering to what you wanted
As March took over from the longest winter of our lives
Now we walk such different streets, you and I
My drum is syncopated to the only rhythm I know
Yours to everyone else’s
I like my drum better than yours
Now when the sky streaks toward the West with cold pink fingers
Pointing “come home” I will think of you and the book I put away



Yeah that's me. I was glad to see "Alien, My Love Monster" go somewhere. It's an important poem to me. So who wants to do/come to a poetry reading?
MNYAGG

As promised

pictures of the devastation in Bergenfield, NJ after Hurricane John Doe came through over the weekend. I have to say that being without power is only fun for about four hours, not 27. My parents are sure good sports. Thank goodness the Panda House had a generator and the Sub King pizza (which is very good Nicky) came right before the power went out and all the roads were closed.

Happy St Patrick's Day. My father is singing Danny Boy this morning today in honor of Daniel Tade Murphy, his Irish father who fled Erin because he'd stolen chickens. I'm having a party tonight. The St. Pat's Parade in Bergenfield was postponed on Sunday and I hope they get to have it today. It is truly cool. I'm putting up random storm photos taken within a few blocks of my folks' house over the weekend. The one of Mr. Murphy is from when we had power and he was waiting for me to give him a haircut. The one of me was taken in my parents' upstairs bathroom cause when I get bored I take pictures of myself sometimes. Don't you?

What's your favorite St. Paddy's Day memory?

Dear Blog,

When I get a minute I promised to put up photos of north Jersey and the devastation that Hurricane John Doe left behind. Suffice it to say that the Murphys were lucky. Six people died in various horrible ways. We had no power for 27 hours, and Aunt Grace and Uncle Dave still have none. More later.
MNYAGG

Vincent Murphy

is not doing so well. I guess for 99 he's doing as well as can be expected. But he was up at night a couple of times, and when I came down this morning at 6:15 I found a worried Mrs. Murphy waiting for me. I'll call the family doctor at 9:00, who will most likely say "take him to the emergency room." That's the standard procedure when you're 99.

Yesterday I walked past Cooper's Pond, where Mr. Murphy used to take me to feed the ducks and geese, and there were young moms there with their little kids. It made me sad and happy at the same time because the pond was closed for several years, all fenced off, and nobody was able to take their little kids there. My father used to tell me stories, great stories that I will have here in my heart forever, and take pictures of me. I am squinting against the sun in some; in others I am pinch faced because some goose just nipped a bread crust from my hand. I'm glad that Coopers Pond is open again, but I wish I could take Mr. Murphy there.

Yesterday I cut his hair and took a picture of him with a moist red washcloth on his head, waiting for my scissors and the shaver. I'll post it later.

I'll let you in on a secret. I want Mr. Murphy to live forever. I am sad.

MNYAGG

Wrapped It!

in a combination of tissue paper and plain heavy white paper. So today is my honey's birthday and I don't think I should post too much cause he, unlike me, is a rather private person. This is the situation I faced when I was finishing my memoir for my creative writing class. I got to the part where I was going to talk about him and realized that he wouldn't appreciate any "tell all" qualities that might imbue my prose. So here's what I did:

And now I should write another 22 pages devoted to him, right?
Well no, because I’m too busy living my life with him to sit around and write about it. Recently I asked him what the most negative aspect of our relationship was. And he thought about it, really thought about (for two days) because he knew the question had been hard for me to ask. And when he answered that he wished he’d known I was so dead set against marriage when we’d started, I wondered if he wouldn’t have started. And so it is complicated, I was right. But hanging in that closet at my parents’ house is proof that some things have so much worth, so much bright and shining luster, that they’re worth it somehow.
So that’s it? That’s a cheesy piece of shit ending if there ever was one.
Yes, that’s it – deal.

Okay, so the above is taken out of context, so it's hard to tell how brilliant the whole piece it, just sayin'. But this isn't about me, it's about our birthday boy. It's about six years of relationship bliss (say what? after all most people who look at this blog know me). It's about a guy who is a great friend, colleague, (other more than pg rated stuff), son and just plain all around great guy. So Happy Birthday unnamed, identity protected dude whoever you are.

Y oTo Hear Me World

Life is good for a change, I mean really good. Just wanted to say that. Two days until D's birthday and I just have to figure out how to wrap that crazy thing.

Spring Break

and I'm going to New Jersey. Let's hope it gets a bit more springlike. I'm not leaving until Tuesday though, because Monday is D's birthday, either 44th 0r 45th. I'm not sure which, and it doesn't help that he keeps saying he's 28.

We're going to go to Philly after I go to Jersey, but only if the weather's good down there. There has to be walking weather, no snowing. I can take a little rain, but I AM DONE WITH SNOW. Hear me world? I AM DONE WITH SNOW!

Biggie Head sent me a photo from Portland, OR yesterday of a tree in full bloom. Children can be so cruel.

What are you doing for spring break?

99!

Well my father Vincent Murphy turned 99 yesterday. When I talked to him on the phone he sounded great, cheerful and adorable as usual. Here are some interesting things I'd like you to know about my father:
He had a boat when he was a kid. He kept it in Sheepshead Bay and once he took it up the Hudson River to see what was up there.
He grew up living in the Harlem Courthouse, in an apartment on the top floor with his widowed mother and five other siblings.
He should have been a photographer instead of a UPS man.
He told me once when I was a teenager not to smoke while walking.
He went to the 1924 World's Fair.
His father entered all of his redheaded children as "A Bunch of Carrots" in the Harlem, NY Baby Parade, and they won prize they were awarded onstage at the Apollo Theater.
Often people think he is my grandfather; sometimes my mother even tells me to call your grandma to come in for dinner.
He gave me a childhood that included tall tales, trips to the Sears nut and candy counter, and photos taken at Coopers Pond.
I love him so much words really cannot do it justice.

If you can, hug your father today. I'll have to wait until next week to hug mine.

MNYAGG

It all started with a trip to BJ's

Last night after having a lovely dinner at Lotus Blossom in Utica and spending some great time with Laura, Amos and the adorable (I mean really cute) Ms. Hazel, D and I went to BJ's in north Utica to get me some coffee beans. That's "get me" literally, not the Idaho "I'm gonna get me," which I swear is residual German left in the dialect.

I needed three things, coffee beans, frozen fruit for my endless ongoing calcium enriched smoothies, and dessert. The problem is that most desserts at BJ's require the presence of 30 or so of your favorite friends for consumption. There are some smaller gems there though and the carrot cake is one of them. At first I thought $9.99 for a cake! But with the raisins (small and tender), the cream cheese (a bit too much frosting on top but I ate it all nonetheless), and the fact that I wanted it "now" (I did not want to go home and bake one) it started to seem like a pretty good deal.

And it was. Now at 7:30 Sunday morning I'm sitting here ready to take the last bite of a piece (not a huge piece, mind you). It's a very satisfying breakfast food, I must say. And weekends and their no holds barred dietary system are a wonderful addition to any life. Of course now that we (the Lost Tribe? the Losters? the Losers?)do Tuesday Lost Nights, they are a wash for dieting, so maybe I shouldn't be eating this cake right now. Too late -- there went the last bite. I hope you enjoyed sharing it with me.

What yummy/crazy/decadent things do you eat on weekends?

MNYAGG

Snow Daze

It sure is white out there. A huge ice floe is traveling down the roof on my back porch, and so I don't let Missy stand there like she often does on her way back in the house. When it slides off it will be noisy. Yesterday in the afternoon it must've been 45 degrees out and all day I listened to the sound of snow thudding off my green metal roof: all day while I lay in bed and watched movies, all day while I made veggie soup and drank coffee and took naps and graded the occasional paper or business letter. It was cozy inside and when I did go out with the reluctant Missy, warm and bright outside. I could do this stuff for a living: relax I mean.

Since today is Saturday the snow blowers haven't started yet at 7:30. Yes, I have those kind of neighbors who get up early to blow, scrape and shovel. Thankfully, one of them blows me; yeah, maybe I didn't mean that the way it sounded.

Today I'm going to propose to my favorite Canadian (besides Celine Dion, of course) that he watch the Olympics and my house. Last night he and a "posse" of friends watched hockey at his house, and even though I knew I would lose a lot of girlfriend points I went home and watched myself drink a little whiskey and fall asleep to a movie on my computer. I guess I am, after all a feminist. Perhaps I am just a crappy girlfriend. Perhaps a little of both.

Missy is officially hatin' it. She wants to check out her entire yard (all 2/3 of an acre) every time she goes out, but the snow's just too deep out there. Today I'm going to shovel her a path, but it won't go far because that stuff is heeeeeaaaavy. A good pet owner would set up a series of interconnected paths with warming stations. I am not that pet owner.

I'm just me.

What are you doing this weekend? We're going to Lotus Blossom on Bleecker St. in Utica for pan Asian delights. This after last night's burger and fries at Creekside Cafe. I guess for middle class 21st century couples the weekend means dining out. I have no problem with that, but I'd better get on that treadmill.

I did walk down to the College Street Cafe in Clinton yesterday and looked at my snow covered little village. As I walked home I thought the following: Life is good; spring is just around the corner. I think maybe it'll be a long wide corner.

Peace Out,
MNYAGG

Well hello winter

I see you're back again. It started snowing night before last and it's still snowing. I suspect there's well over a foot out there. So yesterday I went into work and taught my morning class, after calling the snowline obsessively because I was just sure they'd close SUNYIT. Well, they did, but not until after I'd driven twelve miles through some nasty slushy muck muck. They canceled 2:00 and later classes, so I drove home on by then pretty scary roads with some guy in a pickup truck up my backside, as Patti Doraz would say. But when I got home, I snuggled in with a movie, some Chex mix and chocolates, and some carrot sticks to add a healthy element to my snack.

When I woke up almost an hour later, Emily Watson had gone from being a famous vibrant cellist to being in a wheelchair (Hilary and Jackie), the house was kinda dark for 4:00, and the snow was still coming down. Then I looked out front to see some lunatic shoveling out my driveway and walkway to my house. So I gave him cookies and coffee and later steak; thank you Patrick.

We wound up going to the College Street Cafe and had a great time. And while we were in there the snow continued to fall enough that Patrick had to dig his car out.

Who says winter can't be fun?

And, btw, it's still snowing.

And the snowplow sonata has begun here at 6:10 am in the Village of Clinton, NY.

And when the sun comes out I'm going out to take pictures to post on this blog. Perhaps I should tie a rope around my waist and tether it to the house. Perhaps I should tie one around Missy. Perhaps I should read Willa Cather today.

How's the weather where you live?

MNYAGG

I do about as well with my blog . . .

as I do with the journal that Bistro Tina gave me eight months ago. I have gotten better with my physical journal since I started limiting myself to one page per writing "session".

So, what's new with me? Well, it's still winter here in CNY and I suspect that if it weren't for my prescription vitamin D pills, there would be some nasty classroom encounters in my little world. Vitamin D deficiency makes me an insomniac with a too tired brain and a restless edginess. Have you had your vitamin D levels checked? It's worth learning more about vitamin D deficiency, no matter where you live. Check out http://www.health.harvard.edu/newsweek/time-for-more-vitamin-d.htm to get the scoop.

My classes are going well this semester, my first semester without any administrative duties. I teach a freshman comp, a bus com, and a creative writing class. Ironically, the creative writing class is shy, a first for me. But they've been a bit livelier this week -- thanks David Sedaris.

I am adjusting well (I think) to my recent diagnosis of fibromyalgia, osteoarthritis, and osteoporosis, or as I call it "the triple whammy" or sometimes "the triumvirate of pain." Taking Savella (ooh, I'd better label this word; maybe the company will pay me to post good things about their product) has literally given me my life back. It blocks my brain's "fibromyalgic" (neologism?) response to pain, which is mainly a response that tells my brain everything is painful. No, I don't walk around hurting myself and not knowing it or holding my hand over an open flame; it's not numbness. I am thinking of taking up fire eating, however.

Well, that's it for now. Whatcha been up to readers? That is, if you're still out there? Anybody planning a St. Patty's Day extravaganza? I'm cooking something up.

Bye Ya,
MNYAGG

Ya Know What?

I wanna go for a hike. It's not so snowy that I couldn't, but it's not snowless either. I have a picture of me on a hike during one of southeast Idaho's few green summers. So if I had a magic teleporter I'd take myself to the Mink Creek Trail. Heck, maybe I'd even stand on that rock again in my victory stance.

If you could go for a hike right now where would you go. Jerad can actually do it for reals where he is, but I assume the rest of us are at some stage of cabin fever. So what outdoor location would be yours?

Next up on MNYAGG: when I can calm down enough to write it, a little mini review of the tv show Jersey Shore.

Well, Maybe It's a Christmas Miracle

Over the past few years the feelings that surround Christmas have changed significantly for me. When I moved back to the East is Beast from the West is Best I spent my first few Christmas breaks readjusting: not to being back here, mind you, but to being a more present and active part of the Murphy family. I used to be a guest of sorts, the slightly charismatic self-centered much younger child of four who swooped in for visits and went home to . . .

to, at times a few secrets I was keeping from my family. My troubled marriage, for example, was a secret I held close and guarded carefully. My dissatisfaction with being in a doctoral program that I loved in many ways, but in many other ways was a part of because it was there and I was stuck there.

But things have changed, and since I decided to take a minute and think about Christmas I thought I'd enumerate some of the ways they have changed.

My first few years back here were spent flying to Portland, sometimes on the day after Christmas, to be with Pin and Big. Then I started just staying in NJ for long parts of the break. To a certain degree I was running away from something and running toward something. I was halfheartedly half here. I used to think at times that D and I were so 21st century a couple because he went home to see his family and I went home to see mine. I just had to go to two very different places to see mine, I guess. The result was a pretty schizophrenic Christmas -- part of it spent it the quiet suburban splendor that is NJ, part of it spent in hipster land.

This Christmas may be the last Christmas I spend with Vinnie Murphy, an idea I sometimes fool myself into thinking I'm handling well. It comes in the year I didn't get promoted and my life fell apart. It comes after a time when I couldn't imagine I would ever be happy again, ever again be spilling my guts out in cyberspace like the narcissist I am.

So this is the moment when I take the time to say that I am one lucky person. If I were a religious person I'd say I'm blessed, but I'm not so I'll leave that road untraveled. And I know it's not just luck; I know that I had a lot of help from my peeps, and I did a lot of hard work myself to make things better. So, that's my Christmas attitude this year: things are better and I'm lucky and happy.

Tomorrow I'm gonna post about the Murphy family's delicious Christmas Eve Deli Dinner, a tradition I look forward to with relish (get it?). And I'm gonna ask what your Christmas tradition are, so get ready to respond, that is if anyone reads this thing anymore. For now I'll say Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Kwansaa, have good one.

MNYAGG

It's Beginning to Feel a Lot Like Christmas . . .

I know this because despite the fact that it's December 21st I have only two presents bought. I spent the last almost two weeks in NJ and then MA and then Pinhead came back to NY with me. Somewhere in all this I graded about 600 pages of student papers.

I love my family, I love teaching, right now I really love sitting here with this blog for a minute before I have to go out and frantically search for presents.

So as much as I miss them all, especially D and Pin because they went away via plane and train, I really need to take advantage of this time alone and get my butt in gear.

See Ya,
MNYAGG

So, here's an end of the semester list . . .

of things I'm doing to avoid grading.
1) calculating how many papers I have to do per day to get done in time = 6.66
2) blogging about how I'm down to 60 papers
3) complaining to people about how I have 60 papers
4) laughing and crying along with my creative writing students as I read their 20 page memoirs, which are overall really good
5) complaining about how long my creative writing students' memoirs are
6) laughing and crying at my freshmen papers, even though they didn't mean for them to be either sad or funny
7) taking long hot baths and reading Prozac Nation and prowling Facebook to avoid all of the above
Vicious cycle? You be the judge.

I know I'm back because . . .

If you've been anywhere near me for the last half year or so you know that I've been struggling with depression. It started when I got tenure without promotion and it's been a long, hard battle for me to dig myself out of. For a long time, I had neither the energy nor the interest in my own life to blog or do anything else for that matter. One thing I'm proud of is that despite all of my sadness I managed to teach quite well and complain about my students less than ever before.

I'm not going to dwell here, but I'll say that 1) it's been tough, the toughest thing I've ever dealt with, and 2) I learned what it means to have to struggle through something alone because despite the fact that many love me (I'm lucky that way) it really came down to me having to get myself to where I could want to help myself, and 3) for me depression has extra nasty connotative value because my mother acquired (geriatric onset) bipolar disorder at 72 and as I get older I worry. That is worried, since even though I was depressed I experienced nothing like mania, no poles here.

So, I'm starting to come back, and here's a list of ways I know I'm starting to come back:
-- I'm posting on my blog
-- I'm singing again. Yesterday it was MacArthur Park with Walter, who cannot sing (Hey, he says it. I'm not being mean). I don't really know any of the words, and it's possible that MacArthur Park might be the stupidest song ever written, but once a semester I sing it with Walter. Soon we'll read A Nocturnal Upon St. Lucy's Day, another tradition.
-- Beyond singing, I'm singing stupid songs that I make up spontaneously, not in public. Today (yeah this is embarrassing and slightly offensive, but it's part of my "therapy") it was "Take a poop, take a poop, take a . . . " well, you can finish the line yourselves (if anybody ever reads this, that is)
-- I am petting the dog more and calling her Stinkerfuss.
-- Lena said "we should have a solstice reading" and I didn't want to automatically say no.
-- I'm pretty pissed about not getting promotion for what I consider incredibly shitty reasons, but I don't feel humiliated anymore. And I think it's good that I'm mad about it but not obsessively so.
That's it for now. Jerad, if you're still out there, thanks so much for the kindness and encouragement. Sarahbear, I'm coming soon. I miss you too.
Keep the Peace,
Oh and one more super peace out thought that I'll leave you with:
Fuck the New York state Senate for defeating a gay marriage bill yesterday when the majority of New Yorkers (yes, it's a small majority, but a majority nonetheless) support gay marriage. We can spend billions of dollars to go places and shoot people, but we can't acknowledge the civil rights of our own citizens?
MNYAGG

Am I back?

Maybe. Maybe it's time to turn this gig around. Upbeat -- that's the goal. Making a deal -- if I blog can I please have some sunshine in return?

I have two days left to teach this semester -- two days!

I didn't get it all done; so what else is new?

Well, that was my warmup. If anybody responds I'll post the mincemeat story from Thanksgiving.