i feel like there should be more to say than this, after having been out of school for 2.5 months now. but i really don’t have much to show for summer, save two novels read, a ton of relaxation, a renaissance of enthusiasm about the NE corridor, a twitter addiction, a break-up, and the completion of a chapbook manuscript.

yeah. that last thing comes as a total surprise to me, too. i thought poetry and i had parted ways for the very last time, circa 2003. then, this april, during the web’s 30/30 poetry month challenge, i started fooling around with free verse.

then i actually wrote a poem with a bit of promise. and things got a bit more serious.

i challenged myself to write 30 poems and bind them into a small, self-published collection called T h i r t y.

i turn 30 later this year.

i’m kind of looking forward to it, though if my 16-year-old self could see me now, she’d be more than a little disappointed. “this is as far as i got?” she’d say, stealing up and down glances when she thinks i’m not looking, attempting not to be rude when she can’t help but be.

yeah, that’s right, brooding adolescent version of stacia. this is where we are. no home. no car. no fam of my own. a seasonal gig w/o medical. one short story publication. a few magazine clippings. a master’s degree from a storied, artsy new york institution. good friends. a random affinity for wine. first trip abroad. and, finally, as of this year, a driver’s license. reading glasses. a seriously twisted history with a guy that’ll provide years and years of source material. and now, poems.

it’s actually a pretty decent place to be. i think we should be proud of ourselves.

but still. our 30s have got to be a lot awesomer than this, right?

i’m really looking forward to them.