How do I get into the business of writing when I’ve been out of it for so long? I have turned this blog…if you want to call it that…an online journal. It was huge when I made this public and I try not to post too much in the way of actual poems I want to publish because hey, this is the internet. But seriously I want to quit my job and write full-time. How does one go about doing this? I’ve looked into selling poems to greeting card companies which seems like it would be easy money. Well easy if my poems get chosen. I tried to write some last night. I forgot how hard it is to craft. I say craft, because writing in a stream of consciousness is pretty easy; especially if you aren’t thinking about quality of statements and just putting pen to paper. But ‘crafting’ the perfect line for a greeting card? Or really anything that takes honest work. Work I haven’t really done since college. Sure, I’ve spent many feverish nights scribbling wine powered rants. But they are inspired. I forgot how to inspire myself to really ‘craft’ everyday. Any advice fellow crafters? Where do I even start?
I used to think that all love was this amazing fairytale that ended with Patrick Swayze telling your Dad that “nobody puts baby in the corner” followed by the most amazingly choreographed dance number for the average amateur dancer. Sadly this is not real life. In real life, love is miserable. It’s all-consuming. And it leaves you completely wrecked. You become this shell of a person walking around town like a zombie picking up pieces of your soul. It can take years to feel like you’ve found them and then just like that one happy night you find another person to wreck you. It’s often fast and comes out of nowhere. I’m not sure I’ve ever found actual love. I’ve had a lot of fabricators in my life but I can say that there is one person that I believe could be real, actual, love and well it’s been miserable. Why? I literally did anything for this person. He asked, I said okay, I’ll help. Yes, at the end I felt stupid and used. But I remember that he hates ice cream and only eats sherbet. He doesn’t like confrontation. He has impossibly high standards but doesn’t know how to reach them himself. He is searching for the perfect life but he doesn’t know what that is composed of or how to get it. He has no idea what he’s capable of doing with his life. I’ve spent the last year and half trying to forget him. But one day he walks back into my life. He says Hello and I’m hooked again. All the crap he put me through and the time I’ve spent piecing my soul back together, gone. I cant stop thinking about him. It’s awful. Love is awful. I’m terrified of what I’m feeling. I don’t want to ever feel the way I did when he left the first time. Why can’t that be enough to leave well enough alone? Maybe faith is the answer here. Okay, I left the church a long time ago but maybe faith is the only thing to keep me from going crazy. I feel crazy. Love is crazy. It’s blinding, all-consuming and it will literally take over your life. I hope this isn’t the love everyone’s writes about. It’s awful. I have no desire to live in this love story. It’s too much. I feel like I’m living in a perpetual showing of the sad montage in all romantic comedies. This is torture. Damn you love!
I am being an old person tonight and getting cozy with my TV.Pre-wine drinking I decided that although shallow Jackie from that 70’s show was if anything totally confident in herself. Yea, she had her moments of vulnerability but she knew one thing: she loved herself. I have my good days and my bad days and by no means am I on a Jackie level, but the older I get the more I realize I am pretty great and it’s okay to think that, no, it’s normal to think that way. Why do we have to be meek? Better question, how do we have to exude confidence and be the follower in order to attract men? Too much of either and you are crazy. Isn’t that what society has created? I think I have loved myself more now than I ever have in my entire life. Yea, okay I would love to be dating someone but I also love to be alone. It’s THE BEST. I don’t even know where I’m going with this, except that it’s more than okay to LOVE yourself and be a tiny bit obnoxious about it because who else can do that for you?
Also, I took a break from poetry for awhile but I wrote this the other day so enjoy or hate; whatever floats your boat.
Imagination is funny.
It runs wild. Creates problems. Lives between breathes.
It solves great problems. Creates new beginnings.
Imagination is silly.
I imagine you with her. No, not that you.
THE YOU. The oldest, wisest, you-est you.
I imagine you live with her. Not married. Because you would never settle.
You are happy. but you are searching. You don’t know
I search for you.
THAT WAS CREEPY.
I search for you there. In that summer,
I stay but
you will never return.
Yes, the oldest you.
The best YOU.
We sat beneath sky and smiled.
not at each other
but at the thought of a new sky.
I hope you find it.
I think that due to recent tumultuous issues I have been thinking only about work. Which lead work to be well stressful. So maybe we should look at life like a liberal arts education. I took my goal this year to improve my relationships. I think I’ve been doing a good job in making new friends. At least I’m trying. But Damn, this is hard. I don’t do well with opening up. I mean sure, I’m a people person. I will talk to a wall if it will listen but I am feeling like I’m missing something. Sure, I’ve put up with a whole 5 years of abusive friendships with needy people that make me sick to my stomach when I think about it…so I don’t ever. But why did I let them abuse me for so long? Seriously. Its the worst feeling in the world to realize something that you treasured and kept close to your heart didn’t give a damn about you. To have to forget vacations, and 5 years of memories. It’s debilitating. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about something we did together. But that is now a closed chapter I guess. Time to move on. As Jay-Z says: I can move forward the only direction can’t be scared to fail Search and perfection Gotta keep it fresh even when we sexing but don’t be mad at him when he’s on to the next one.
Yes, I heart Jay-Z. Don’t judge me.
Back to the “arts.” I have a lot of books, and most of them are poetry books and anthologies. I have a short attention span so I read a lot of different things at the same time. I was looking at my book shelf and boy do I have quite the eclectic taste. I mean would be lying if I said I read all of them but I will one of these days. Just like I will find someone to replace that guy that took up so much of my time with someone better. I just need to be open about what’s out there. I don’t need to date them all but I can dabble in a few and really get into one if I like it.
As my favorite urban poet Saul Williams says: And these tu lips/ might soon eclipse/ your brightest hopes.
I’m going to hang onto that.
It seems that things have grown to be oddly like 10 years ago…after a series of misfortunes I had to move home. The worst possible thing that could happen but maybe I’ll find the strong, fiercely independent girl I once knew. Or rather, the poet who has been eaten by a workaholic. So tonight I’m inviting some nostalgia into my room. Of course, you can’t be nostalgic without wine. Tonight I’m watching Now And Then. A quirky movie starring Christina Ricci and Rosie O’Donnell that makes me long to be 12 again. It occurred to me that this close knit group of girlfriends is rare…I talk to 2 people that I knew at 12…and not often. Every time I see this I want to call them and invite them over for a sleepover. I really miss having unconditional 12 year old friendship…before guys, before booze, before we discovered the cruel world of being an adult.
My favorite character is Roberta…mostly because she didn’t give a fuck that people thought it was weird that she taped her boobs and she had some serious gumption. I always wanted to be like her. I probably align more with the snarky writer who wears bitterness and black. Roberta…she was queen. She single handily won for all woman kind when she beat the crap out of a fat kid who was just mad he couldn’t play ball too. And then she got to make out with Devon Sawa. My 12 year old heart just swooned.
Tini and Samantha had their moment when Samantha got stuck in the storm drain…chasing after a friendship bracelet. That was a BFF. She went after a symbol that kept them close for a lifetime. I miss the simplicity of knowing that if I needed a late night talk I could flashlight message my BFF and we would go hang out in a borrowed treehouse. No regrets and no worries…just two people who are the very definition of what it means to be someone’s friend.
I miss those days. I miss the unconditional love these girls had for each other. The importance of loyalty. The unconditional trust. When I was 12 I never questioned the motives of anyone the way I do now. Especially when it comes to guys.
Anyways, the point is these girls were about the adventure, they fought to find out a mystery. They weren’t swayed by boys or Brendan Frasier who only ever looked like a badass in this movie. But he was right “you can only believe in yourself.” In the end, they all grow up to be fierce women who have mastered their path. Roberta…a doctor, Tini…an actress, Chrissy…a mom, Samantha…a writer.
When was the last time girls of this generation had a beloved movie like this one in their life? I can’t think of any. I only hope the next generation can see the beauty and magic of a summer of mystery and friendship bracelets.