"I Hate Being Poor"
The March sisters (Little Women): "I hate being poor," sighed her sister, Meg, looking at her old dress. Most of the time I am okay with being poor—I mean what else can I do? Like the March girls who imbued that hearty New England spirit, I embody Midwestern grit and determination, the make-do pioneer attitude. If it rains lemons then make lemonade. Lately what has descended upon me is discontent, a striving for something out there beyond my reach. There is something I want that I can’t get on my own. Any close readers of this blog (all three of you) must by now know that I am restless for the next big thing. Maybe that’s why I keep applying for grants, residencies, scholarships even though I lack really great credentials. It’s a bit like what I blogged about a few entries back. Hope. You send it out there and see what flies home. Esperanza. A flitty, flighty thing is faith. You crack open the coconut to dig at the sweet flesh inside—it might satisfy or leave you only wan...