Melanoma

Two days ago I got a phone call from my doctor that the two moles she removed (one from my arm, one from my shoulder) are malignant; the one on my arm is in the first stages of melanoma, so today after going dress shopping for my brother's wedding, I'll be going in for minor surgery. My doctor will remove more flesh from my arm. She believes that all the malignant flesh is already removed; this supposedly is only a precautionary measure. In any case, if I can scan the slides of my moles, I'll post them here.

Wow...

...all day I've been thinking about blogging. I'm so glad I started again. And hopefully soon I'll have a real idea I want to write about and not just chit chat. It's hard to get into a deep discussion with myself about something this week, as I am preparing to leave for Romania on Saturday. My brother is getting married to his girlfriend. He has been living in the Czech Republic for several years and his fiance (Cristina) is a fellow English teacher at the school in Prague where Paul teaches. She is Romanian, has never lived in an English-speaking country, but speaks English so well that she is certified to teach other English teachers. If you knew my brother, it would make sense to you that his girlfriend/wife is so together. Opposites attract.

I've been obsessed with pop music again lately. This time the 2nd generation riot girl kind. In my head I keep writing an essay about Kathleen Hanna's solo album, Julie Ruin, which didn't get much attention, but I think it is much more compelling than the majority of work that she has produced before and after it. I have a feeling I'll just have to write this essay. It seems important to me in the history of underground rock music. And I'm in love with Mirah's new album C'mon Miracle. It's a little darker than her first two albums -- there's heartbreak in these songs, but her positve punk rock hippie 'everything is going to be all right' sentiments resurface by the end of the album. It's like listening to experience try to take someone's spirit down but fail. And her voice...it's so hauntingly beautiful. It sounds like love. If only it could whisper into your ear as you lie in the grass staring into the night sky. I want to invite Mirah over for a cup of tea. Buy this record. It will be such great comfort to you. And I just heard Tracy and the Plastics, though I've seen her live once for five minutes. It's genius. But I have to listen to it one more time very carefully before I have anything useful to say about it. But it makes Le Tigre look like Pong. It's the X-Box of girl digital. I'm sure all of you know all about it already. But I'm always behind the beat. I didn't get NEVERMIND until Kurt Cobain was dead.

I have a feeling I'll be blogging until I go. I love you again. The picture is of my brother and his future wife.

Back

I'm not sure why today of all days I've decided to start blogging again. Perhaps it was the reference Mary Burger made recently to our dead blog, which actually is my dead blog, since Ange has been happily blogging away somewhere else, I assume for months. See, I've stopped reading other blogs as soon as I stopped writing mine. Or maybe I'm starting again because I googled myself this afternoon (the afternoon is my favorite time to google myself) and the blog was the second thing to come up and somehow it made me feel like a slacker to have my dead blog come up in my list of digital achievements. Now that I'm 33 I am trying hard not to be or act like a slacker. I still like to look like a slacker, but that is more of a fashion issue.

Since the last blog posting, I have undertaken the task of getting my novel published. So far I am still only a few feet in front of the starting gate. The query has been written and rewritten, sent to almost 20 agents. Around 7 have requested to see the manuscript. All so far have responded similarly. My favorite first line of a rejection letter will give you an idea of what's happening to me: "The novel is rich, complicated, and just above my reader." Now I wish I had written a complicated novel. I haven't. There aren't any hard words in it. I have a small vocabulary; even though my parents are Polish immigrants, I am no Joseph Conrad, but even if I were, it seems as though many Americans get through Heart of Darkness. My gut tells me to just take it to a small press where it will be appreciated, but Prageeta keeps telling me to look for agents to take it to a small press where it will be appreciated. So we cut a deal. After I send out a hundred letters, I'll take it to a small press myself. If you are interested in seeing a chapter from the novel for yourself, pick-up the latest copy of The Hat

In addition to this agent search, I've been prepping for my GRE Subject Test, as I've decided to get a Ph.D. For years I've been wanting to do it, but I didn't want to be more of an academic than a writer, so I've waited until I've finished my first book. I hope to be a slightly more feminine Joshua Corey next year. I've gotten to read and re-read some cool things. So far my favorite has been James' Washington Square.

OK. Hopefully, I'll be back.

-- Maggie