Deadlines and Decisions

If I didn't have to work full-time, I would probably lose my mind because I thrive on deadlines. This is why I'm pretty good at getting organized for poetry and other creative writing contests. That finalist placing that I received from the Joy Harjo Poetry Contest gave me a little more of a nudge too. There are so many contests going on right now, plus the AWP coming up, it's enough to make a girl whimper like a baby. But I'll tell you, I had my memoir (which I would like to have published at a point sooner than later) completely edited this past week, and basically, I am back to square one. The editor gave great advice, but said if I want it to be marketable, I better make THE FORMAT more interesting. He said all the components are there, I just have to rearrange them, and in essence, be playful with them. BE CREATIVE. This is new territory for me as I think of myself primarily as a poet and yet my memoir is often prose-like. It's hard to be playful when you're not in your element, so to speak.

Excuses, excuses, I just have to buckle down and even though I don't have a chance in hell to win the AWP creative non-fiction contest, I'm going to work toward the Feb. 28 deadline because that is how I function. Luis Alberto Urrea is the judge for that particular category.

As I was cataloguing all these contest deadlines in my head, I wondered if that behavior (being obsessed with dates, etc.) was also part of the Parkin gene mutation I'm supposed to have which manifests itself in OCD behavior and other weird habits. I have been slightly off kilter after going through two long days of rigorous, exhausting diagnostic and cognitive testing to see if I'm eligible for deep brain stimulation (DBS). At the University of Colorado Hospital off of Colfax, they are "fast-tracking" me since I'm young and healthy and "unusual!" I don't have the same symptoms as other PD people have. But, I still have to go through a six-hour, yes that is SIX HOURS of an intense neuropsychological exam. Then the entire team, which consists of 10 people, meet and decide if you are eligible. So far I've come through with flying colors. But if I am accepted, I will have to think about the actual surgery which is also about six hours long, and I'm awake the whole time and they are talking to me. Apparently, and I did not know this (!), the brain feels no pain. I will have to think about the wires in my brain that will be threaded down through my neck and the pacemaker that will be sewn into my chest and yada, yada, yada. I hate brain diseases. There, I said it, I hate brain diseases. It's fascinating stuff they are discovering, but did I have to be a complete part of it? Then, I think, well DBS will allow me to go off of all those pharmaceuticals that make me feel ill half the time.

Happily, I was brought back into the "normal" world by a wonderful Cannon Mines open mike reading last night in Lafayette. I read a new poem I had written just a few days prior and I got some helpful feedback. Also, serendipitously, my friend April dropped by the evening before one of those awful "testing" days at the hospital (the one where I had to be off meds for 12 hours), her arms filled with gifts: a silk purse from Vietnam, hair products, oils, amethyst earrings. Such is life right now for me. And I must add here that I have been really enjoying Matthew Cooperman's book A Sacrificial Zinc. Such rhythmic and beautiful lines: "Soul itch, hour wife, heaven jar,/I want to write you a love poem, exquisite braid/of wind in the wheat, bells victorious/tolling the morning light/like Latin poets do." Poetry really does help the brain relax and remain sharp at the same time. I can't prove it scientifically, but I can tell you—I feel it!