Life(less) Seen
sitting among baby-bellied women
we wait for the sound-image projected
they dream in pinks and blues
but one catches my frown
downing the crowd
she hands me two chocolates
and walks away
the only thing fetal is my position
the only thing grown is a 5 cm sack
barring freedom
and sun
the nurse says she's big enough to name
I give a caged smile
three cuts and she'll be gone
two weeks and I'll heal
my roses are dying
dropping petal on wood
I have her picture
left unseen
Friday, February 10, 2012
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Get Busy Writing, Woman
Yep, it's the "I don't know what exactly to do with this blog yet" writer. I guess this is what happens (or at least I am hoping this is what happens) when you decide to start a blog and watch the cursor blinking back at you. Mine is saying, "Dude, seriously...come up with something...anything...you are a writer...you are creative...you can do this..."
So what I typically do when I don't know where it begin is I think about things for a while. Where do I want to begin? How do I want to begin? What is it that I want to say? And tonight, I stumbled across a blog that I found myself reading for longer than a quick glance. It's actually a woman I've never even met before and only know "virtually" through images. She was (and still is) writing about how she is trying to live a healthier, more balanced life. And after I finished looking at some of her entries and images (she is also a photographer), I found myself in my kitchen putting together a healthy meal: an open-faced organic turkey and mozzarella sandwich drizzled in olive oil and topped with basil with a side of peaches.
I'm not going to lie and say I didn't end that meal with a small bite of Heath bar...you can't change a sweet-o-holic overnight, people. Ask my childhood friends what they remember about my house when they would come to visit and it's the fact that we always had cookies and candy on the counter...even if some of that candy was those inedible orange circus peanuts that my dad couldn't get enough of.
I guess what I'm getting at here is that I haven't written anything as of yet, because I didn't think anyone was looking...or that anyone had time to. But the truth in my case, anyway, is that I did have the time, and on this night I actually stumbled across something that resonated with me. And that for a split second, it inspired me to change some old habits that I'm trying to break.
I realized in that moment that my blog just has to be real. That I need to do what it is that keeps me moving through life...and that is to sit down and write, whatever might come to me. So perhaps one day I'll write about art. Or watching a dozen squirrels come out onto a campus lawn after students are done passing through. Or how I want to begin to live a healthier, more balanced life...and how someone else's writing inspired me to do so.
So what I typically do when I don't know where it begin is I think about things for a while. Where do I want to begin? How do I want to begin? What is it that I want to say? And tonight, I stumbled across a blog that I found myself reading for longer than a quick glance. It's actually a woman I've never even met before and only know "virtually" through images. She was (and still is) writing about how she is trying to live a healthier, more balanced life. And after I finished looking at some of her entries and images (she is also a photographer), I found myself in my kitchen putting together a healthy meal: an open-faced organic turkey and mozzarella sandwich drizzled in olive oil and topped with basil with a side of peaches.
I'm not going to lie and say I didn't end that meal with a small bite of Heath bar...you can't change a sweet-o-holic overnight, people. Ask my childhood friends what they remember about my house when they would come to visit and it's the fact that we always had cookies and candy on the counter...even if some of that candy was those inedible orange circus peanuts that my dad couldn't get enough of.
I guess what I'm getting at here is that I haven't written anything as of yet, because I didn't think anyone was looking...or that anyone had time to. But the truth in my case, anyway, is that I did have the time, and on this night I actually stumbled across something that resonated with me. And that for a split second, it inspired me to change some old habits that I'm trying to break.
I realized in that moment that my blog just has to be real. That I need to do what it is that keeps me moving through life...and that is to sit down and write, whatever might come to me. So perhaps one day I'll write about art. Or watching a dozen squirrels come out onto a campus lawn after students are done passing through. Or how I want to begin to live a healthier, more balanced life...and how someone else's writing inspired me to do so.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
The Blogging Dilemma
I was just reading from The Curious Writer for an upcoming composition class, and something suddenly occurred to me. Now, being an English professor, this would be a good time to include the direct quote, but unfortunately, I left my book at the office...so I'm relying off of memory and will paraphrase.
What Bruce Ballenger argues is that he views public and private writing in different ways. His more private writing is done in journals, and as a result, he doesn't feel as self conscious about what he is saying, how he is saying it, etc. And this got me thinking about blogging. Doesn't blogging blur the lines between the private and the public? And if it does, how do you maneuver through this? I find that I turn to the blog in the same way as I would a journal. I want to write about what I am personally thinking inside one moment in time, but in that space, I also realize that these thoughts will be made public for others to read. I want the mutual correspondence and collaborative feedback, but there is also this impending fear and doubt whether or not the words are polished enough to appear in this forum.
So, I'm curious...do you experience these dilemmas as a blogger as well?
What Bruce Ballenger argues is that he views public and private writing in different ways. His more private writing is done in journals, and as a result, he doesn't feel as self conscious about what he is saying, how he is saying it, etc. And this got me thinking about blogging. Doesn't blogging blur the lines between the private and the public? And if it does, how do you maneuver through this? I find that I turn to the blog in the same way as I would a journal. I want to write about what I am personally thinking inside one moment in time, but in that space, I also realize that these thoughts will be made public for others to read. I want the mutual correspondence and collaborative feedback, but there is also this impending fear and doubt whether or not the words are polished enough to appear in this forum.
So, I'm curious...do you experience these dilemmas as a blogger as well?
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Tonight I Can Write...
Tonight I can write about the last week I will spend in this apartment, filled with boxes, white walls, and muted sounds.
Tonight I can write about wondering when I will be in my lover's arms again, after deadlines have been met, and office lights no longer flicker.
Tonight I can write about news today of my cousin's death, and the woman whose make-up smeared when she crossed the median and didn't notice him there.
Tonight I can write...
But on nights such as these, I don't know where to begin, what pictures to paint, what brushes to use. Because I haven't written for myself in so long, and this leaves words filled with dust, filled with hollowness. I see others who have something to say. Others whose colored walls light smiles on the page. Whose memories will not be long forgotten after they have gone. But mine? Mine have stayed within me, and now I don't know where to begin.
So tonight, and I hope only this night, this is all that I have to say.
Monday, May 2, 2011
One Generation's Length Away...
For Taunt Anne:
There's a great song by John Mayer that I've been thinking about today. He talks about how he is "one generation's length away from finding life out on [his] own." Hear for yourself:
Another one of my older relatives passed today. It is becoming a lot more frequent these days, which I would expect. That's been the tough part about "midlife." As much as I'll deny that 40 is fast approaching, the reality is that it is. What bothers me most is not the growing bags under my eyes or the course gray hairs that stick straight up or the fact that I now need help to get up off the floor. It's that as time continues to pass, I am losing the "older and wiser" people in my life at a faster rate. I am starting to look within myself more for the "answers" or turning to those around me who are also my age, struggling themselves to figure out life as it comes.
At these times, I miss those mornings when I was barely a teenager sitting in my grandmother's rocking chair in the corner of her kitchen. I would hold a coffee cup that was more full of milk than coffee because it made me feel older. I miss the nights that I would sit at the bar with my aunt as I asked all of the questions I had on my mind. She never stopped the steady stream that came at her...not even at 2 or 3 in the morning. I miss the fact that I could now sit with my father and ask him about what I have discovered as an adult.
And what I am discovering most of all is the brevity of life and the simplicity that is what makes it so special. It is nothing new. It is nothing noteworthy. But what I need to work on is learning that lesson. It is so easily forgotten amid the hectic work day. The rain-filled day where I worry about getting cold or wet. The day when I hit the snooze too many times because I am tired.
My Aunt Anne taught me a great lesson in life, and on the day she passed, I now share it with you. Shortly before she turned 90, her hot water heater exploded. It was only inches away from where she was sitting watching TV. Miraculously, it exploded upward, caught the roof on fire, and she escaped unharmed. Her house, on the other hand, did not. I remember walking through her home. I remember smelling wet carpet and charred walls. Anne had lost everything. I saw her standing in front of a neighbor's home, and I didn't know what I was going to say. I imagined she would be devastated and at a loss for words. I walked over to her and gave her a hug. I told her how sorry I was. She said that she was very lucky and felt blessed. She had come out alive.
As one of the many in my life who have taught me great lessons...thank you, Anne.
There's a great song by John Mayer that I've been thinking about today. He talks about how he is "one generation's length away from finding life out on [his] own." Hear for yourself:
Another one of my older relatives passed today. It is becoming a lot more frequent these days, which I would expect. That's been the tough part about "midlife." As much as I'll deny that 40 is fast approaching, the reality is that it is. What bothers me most is not the growing bags under my eyes or the course gray hairs that stick straight up or the fact that I now need help to get up off the floor. It's that as time continues to pass, I am losing the "older and wiser" people in my life at a faster rate. I am starting to look within myself more for the "answers" or turning to those around me who are also my age, struggling themselves to figure out life as it comes.
At these times, I miss those mornings when I was barely a teenager sitting in my grandmother's rocking chair in the corner of her kitchen. I would hold a coffee cup that was more full of milk than coffee because it made me feel older. I miss the nights that I would sit at the bar with my aunt as I asked all of the questions I had on my mind. She never stopped the steady stream that came at her...not even at 2 or 3 in the morning. I miss the fact that I could now sit with my father and ask him about what I have discovered as an adult.
And what I am discovering most of all is the brevity of life and the simplicity that is what makes it so special. It is nothing new. It is nothing noteworthy. But what I need to work on is learning that lesson. It is so easily forgotten amid the hectic work day. The rain-filled day where I worry about getting cold or wet. The day when I hit the snooze too many times because I am tired.
My Aunt Anne taught me a great lesson in life, and on the day she passed, I now share it with you. Shortly before she turned 90, her hot water heater exploded. It was only inches away from where she was sitting watching TV. Miraculously, it exploded upward, caught the roof on fire, and she escaped unharmed. Her house, on the other hand, did not. I remember walking through her home. I remember smelling wet carpet and charred walls. Anne had lost everything. I saw her standing in front of a neighbor's home, and I didn't know what I was going to say. I imagined she would be devastated and at a loss for words. I walked over to her and gave her a hug. I told her how sorry I was. She said that she was very lucky and felt blessed. She had come out alive.
As one of the many in my life who have taught me great lessons...thank you, Anne.
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