So Close

Yesterday, I defended my thesis in an event that included the defenses of myself (literary criticism), Kevin Avery and Linda Johnson (creative non-fiction), and Jeniffer Yeatts (poetry). It was a great event. We held it at the Landmark Inn's boardroom, and over thirty faculty/grad students showed up. After my presentation, where I spoke about my project and read some of the more interesting sections from it, I was asked a number of questions about theory and literature. Then, by answering their questions, I successfully "defended" my thesis. The event was a lot of fun. I actually sort of enjoyed being up there answering the questions, though I was pretty nervous. And, probably the highlight of the reading was Kevin and Linda's non-fiction, and Jen's poetry. I've read various essays or poems from Kevin and Jen, but hearing the three of them read was wonderful. It is something I love about this program, the incredible grad students I am surrounded by.

So, that defense marked the almost-end of the semester. Only 20 more final portfolios to grade, one late research essay to grade, 200 pages to read, and a final take-home essay/exam to complete by Wednesday. So close. If only I could find a job, now.

In other news, a week from Monday I am going backpacking in the Porcupine mountains with my friends, and softball season is coming.

Till later.

we've decided

In our search for a new home, and my search for a Master of Fine Arts program, we've finally settled on what we feel to be our best option: Northern Michigan University. After receiving two acceptance letters and three rejection letters, sifting through funding options, talking with several wise advisers, and much, much prayer, Stacey and I have decided to remain in Marquette for three more years. I have been accepted into their MFA program for Fiction Writing and have been offered another teaching assistantship (funding). We are at peace with this decision. How can you not be at peace in such a beautiful place, with such great friends, and such an incredible English department? Now Stacey can finish her photography degree without transferring, and I can continue working with some of the faculty that I've built good relationships with. For now, however, thesis, thesis, thesis. Four more days until its due. Then, only a month until graduation.

Its Coming...

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bumdom

"When I was very young and the urge to be someplace else was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch. When years described me as mature, the remedy prescribed was middle age. In middle age I was assured that greater age would calm my fever and now that I am fifty-eight perhaps senility will do the job. Nothing has worked. Four hoarse blasts of a ship's whistle still raise the hair on my neck and set my feet to tapping. The sound of a jet, an engine warming up, even the clopping of shod hooves on pavement brings on the ancient shudder, the dry mouth and vacant eye, the hot palms and the churn of stomach high up under the rib cage. In other words, I don't improve; in further words, once a bum always a bum. . . . When the virus of restlessness begins to take possession of a wayward man, and the road away from Here seems broad and straight and sweet, the victim must first find in himself a good and sufficient reason for going. This to the practical bum is not difficult. He has a built-in garden of reasons to choose from."

--John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley in Search for America

Beer and Bob

I made an investment late last year. With some money that I received for my birthday, I invested in a beer making kit. I figured that since I spend enough money on okay tasting beer, when I really want the good tasting stuff, I ought to spend the initial money on a kit, and then "make" the good tasting stuff. So, the day before New Year's Eve, while Stacey was at work, I started brewing my first batch of an Irish Stout. After boiling grains and malts and hops for a full hour, our little apartment (actually, probably the entire complex) smelled like the Guinness factory we visited in Dublin. When Stacey came home, she didn't care for it as much. But I loved it. So, once all the boiling is done, I had to add the yeast, put a bubbler on it, then let it sit for two weeks around 65 degrees in a semi-dark room. After two weeks, I transplanted it into a secondary fermenter. (This is shown in the pictures). I know, it looks more lie coffee than beer, but it smells great. During the process, I tasted a little sample of it. At this stage, it has not reached its full flavor (won't for another month or more) and it is not carbonated. However, it tasted great. I can't wait to try it when it is finished. I have to stock up on beer bottles now (you can see my stash next to the fermenter in the last picture). After another week, I will be ready to bottle it. It should make about 48-53 12oz beers. Once they are bottled they need to sit for at least another week while they age into its ripe flavor. Yeah, pretty crazy process. I have a lot of friends up here that also brew , so I think that when our Christmas batches are done, we're gonna get together and try each other's recipes. (yeah, like a knitting circle without the needles). My dad also got a wine-making kit over Christmas, and my brother already brews beer. So, we're all looking forward to being able to trade our brews with each other.

In other news, as some of you may know, when Stacey and I got married (2 years, 11 months, and 25 days ago from today), my brother, Steve, bought me this giant Bob Dylan poster to decorate wherever we chose to live. Knowing, of course, that Bob is my favorite. Unfortunately, because I did not want the poster ruined, and framing is expensive, the poster has been rolled in a cardboard tube in my closet for almost three years. Until today. This past Christmas, Stacey surprised me by getting the poster framed. Today, I picked it up. These are the photos I took while hanging it on our living room wall. You can get an idea of its size by comparing it to our television (27'' I think) in the second picture. For a better reference, think of it like this: The poster is only 6 inches shorter than Stacey.

Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore

This is another reason why I love the U.P. so much. Towards the end of September, beginning of October (yeah, this post is long overdue), my Dad and I took three days to hike the the Pictured Rocks trail. The trail goes from Grand Marais to Munising (around 45 miles). As you can probably see from the pictures, we were, at times, right on the Lake Superior beach, and other times we were peering over cliffs some 1,500 feet above Lake Superior.
We left early on a Friday morning. Lucky for us, Stacey was headed back to Grand Rapids and was able to drop us off in Grand Marais. We averaged 15 miles a day, and landed in Munising on Sunday. Again, Stacey was on her way home from Grand Rapids and was able to pick us up. Though we expected (hoped) to see quite the variety of wildlife (bear, dear, etc), it turned out to be more of a bird-watching tour than anything. A hawk, a pair of falcons, an owl, a blue heron, and a Bald Eagle. Finally, while filling up our water bottles from a creek one morning, we did notice an unexpected visitor spying on us. A Marten. For a while, I couldn't figure out what the heck it was, as it was the first I've seen in the woods. If you haven't seen one, it looks like a cross between a fox and a weasel. I actually thought it was a fox at first (it was about as large as one) but then I saw it tear up a tree across the creek from us and peek its head around to watch us.) From its tufted ears, square face, and long body, my dad knew it was a Marten. Pretty cool. Another odd thing we saw was this old (1930's perhaps) Plymouth car abandoned in the woods. We just walked around a bend and it was there.
At times, the lakeshore was so isolated and deserted that you could walk on the beach, look for miles, and see nothing but the large green expanse of Superior and the reddish rock of the coastline. It was unbelievable. In some more remote areas, on the beach, their were actually remnants of old shipwrecks that had been washed up.

So, as I am nearing the end of my degree, only one more semester, you can probably see why I am so concerned with location. Stacey and I both really hope to stay where we are. But, it depends on whether or not I can get accepted into Northern's M.F.A. program. Other schools I have been checking out are either in Oregon or Montana or Wyoming. I don't think I could go south. I love the North Country. For now, though, I am not hiking as much. Instead, I am working on my applications, and writing samples, a letters and all the other fun stuff that goes along with applying to college. Hopefully, by doing this, I can stay here for another few years and enjoy the northern portion of our beautiful state.

So, next hike on the agenda: Isle Royale. I graduate on May 3rd (or somewhere near there), and Kevin and Teague (some of my friends that will also be graduating) and my dad and I plan on taking a week to do it shortly after graduation. For those that didn't know Michigan had a National park, Isle Royale is a National Park in the middle of Lake Superior, accessible only by boat or sea plane, and native to Timber Wolves and Moose. Stacey is going to Europe around May 17, so we're planning on going around that time.

I'll keep you posted (though, as you probably know, it may not be very timely).

arts and crafts time

Grad school isn't all about reading, writing, and teaching. At least not for me. That is why the other day, during about the 2nd hour of reading some texts for my thesis, I began to lose focus. I had fixed myself a small snack and as I resumed my reading of Lee Siegel's incredible novel, "Love and Other Games of Chance," I couldn't help noticing the fruit flies surrounding my plate. I tried to ignore them, but I am only human. So, I fired up the computer (read: opened it), and typed into the google search engine the words: "how to trap fruit flies." This was the start of a forty-five minute distraction. After locating what I thought to be a reputable and distinguished site of fruit fly trapping, Arts and Crafts time began. With an old mason jar, a pungent concoction of old orange juice and bourbon (for the trap, not me), some masking tape, and an 8 1/2 X 11 sheet of paper, I started building. I thought of pre-school, the hard moments of listening through a "Clifford, the Big Red Dog," book that always ended with snack/craft time. And also a nap, which I'm sure I eventually took that day, too. I also thought of high school shop class, building birdhouses. Not much has changed. I built my fruit fly trap with as much vigor and excitement as I've ever had. Once complete, I set it on top of the stove (the site said that heat attracts them), and tried to resume reading. All was good, except that, unlike the regular outdoor fly traps on old porches, fruit fly traps do not buzz when a kill has been made. So, as I flipped each page in my book, I couldn't temper my curiosity. I had to get up and check. Thus, I did not get any effective reading done. However, if you look closely at the picture, you will see some floating fruit flies in the bourbon/O.J. concoction. Productive day? I think so.

Jason: 1
Fruit Flies: 0

P.S. After several days, Stacey was not as excited about the traps as I was. The smell was pungent, and they soon lost their aesthetic appeal. Especially when we had company over for dinner. They have been removed, reluctantly, and I am back to just reading. For now.