Missing Hubcap...

Not my car.

So, I noticed this weekend that I'm missing a hubcap. My sister mentioned seeing one in the road near our house, but it wasn't where she said it was. I decided to look in the trash can that's at the corner of the intersection, just in case... and there is was. All smashed up. Nothing salvageable. I was kinda shocked at the state of it. I was hoping to find it still in the street and pop it back on while shaming it for popping off in the first place. I know this is going to sound superficial, but because the cap is missing I kinda feel like I'm riding around in a junker. Don't get me wrong. I have a nice car. It's reliable and I haven't had to have much major service on it (knock on wood). It's not rusted up or dented... its just a little less dressed than normal. This makes me feel sloppy for some reason. I realize that no one cares about this but me. I'm not being judged by random drivers who should have their eyes on the road and not at my front tire. Still, I can't stop thinking about it. I have to wonder if this feeling is really about my car or if there's something deeper. Almost like "great, that's one more thing I need to worry about." Is it bad that I've contemplated stealing one off someone else's Rav4? I won't do this, obviously, but I've thought about it a couple times. So what does that mean?

I'm over thinking. I just feel a little unsettled at the moment. I'm starting to think that my thirty-second year of life needs to be about me doing things that scare the crap out of me. That's scary. I don't want to do scary things... I also don't want to be complacent in life. So... 32: The Fright Years (?)

Maybe I should remove all of my hubcaps... you know, live dangerously. Or at least symmetrically.

Holy crap... it'll cost over $70 to replace it. That's depressing.

Stupid hubcap. Why did it pop off? Why didn't I hear it?

I found cheaper ones on E-bay. The conundrums: 1) Buy one new one and it's brighter and more silver-y than the rest. 2) Buy four and have three extra hanging around?

Stupid hubcap.

Sometimes I think I've been ruined by the MFA

So, a little tête-à-tête of rambling for today:

I feel like the MFA is still caught up in my brain. Like I have little professors and peers whispering and scolding: you should be reading this or that, not this or that. Today I went to Barnes and Noble to buy Aimee Bender's novel "The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake" (I had a coupon), and since the purchase, I've been asking myself why I bought it. Don't get me wrong, Bender's a great writer (or so I'm told), but I probably wouldn't have known about her or felt any desire at all to purchase her novel had it not been for someone in my MFA program (a professor or student, doesn't really matter who) to sit up and say: "Hey, you should be reading her."

Why? Why should I be reading her? Because she's "literary"? Because she's got mad diction skillz?

And then, with Bender novel in hand, I found myself in fiction anthologies looking at the O'Henry and Pushcart collections for this year, thinking to myself "I really should start reading/writing short stories again."

WHY?!?! What should I be reading/writing short stories?

I don't really like short stories (I mean they're fine and yes I'm trying to get some published, but I don't really care about them). I like novels. I am a novelist, not a short story writer. And still, I'm thumbing through a few of the Pushcart stories, reading opening paragraphs, wondering if I should buy these too because I really should keep up to date with what's happening in the short story world.

Ugh, really?

And then I think about my current project (a supernatural YA novel) and how I'm constantly questioning my decision to use a pen name instead of my real name when/if I'm actually successful and get it published. (I'm about to make a strong attempt to reach out to agents soon.) Here's what I think to myself: "Well, you might want to get serious one day, so you'd better use a pen name." And THEN I think: "Who the hell said you're not 100% serious with this totally awesome (cause it is) supernatural YA novel? Use your real name on this and a fake name on anything 'serious' (aka: literary)." Then my conscience is like: "But Tanya, you really should use your name on serious novels."

I'm so messed up in my head. The MFA program made me ashamed of myself in a way. I don't like that. It frustrates me beyond measure that I'm not 100% comfortable talking about or showing my YA stuff to my MFA peers.

My friends.

I wonder when I'll feel comfortable enough to share my alter ego (aka: real self) with more people. I guess four months post graduation is not enough time to really heal from something as mind blowing as an Master of Fine Arts program.