My Attempt At Poetry

I am terrible at writing poetry.  Not the best way to tempt you to read what's coming, I know.  It's more of a warning really.  This is my first assignment for my creative writing class and I'd really love any feedback you have, including "this is the worst excuses for poetry I've ever read."  I probably wouldn't disagree with you ;) I think it's pretty self explanitory, but essentially I wrote it last night after seeing pictures of Mr. Long Distance with a new girlfriend.  More, non poetic thoughts on that later.

(Any thoughts on a different title?  I'm not a fan of this one)

The Result of Masochistic Behavior

You see his soft brown hands hold her thin frame

Panic stretches your lungs tight like the skin of a drum

It’s one of those moments you think God’s playing tricks

But then you realize it’s true and if there’s any way you can fade away

You do

You saw this coming

It doesn’t stop you from finding yourself in the fetal position

Alone in the dark

Again alone in the dark

Flashes of his lips on yours, on hers, on yours again, and then hers

You crumple over 

Wrenching in pain

You force your eyes open, taking in every piece of the scene

You want it to cut into you deep this time

Searing itself into your flesh and memory

So that maybe you’ll learn for once

That not even the bluest of eyes is worth this

So that maybe you won’t let it happen again

That song starts to play and you can smell him in your skin and on your sheets

Fire wouldn’t be strong enough

You will the tears to come as if his memory is inside of them

As if you can cry him away but 

They

Won’t
Come

Your brain vibrates against your skull

Wanting so badly to scream

Wanting to yell at him words that sound like hate and rhyme with betrayal

Wanting to take back every word you ever wrote him

Every secret you ever let your pen disclose

Every piece of you you let him have

You want it back

Because he just threw it way

Making room for new merchandise 

Your lungs forget what they are

With effort your chest rises up and down

You feel that anxious and angry thud against your ribs

And then you realize

It’s still there

It’s still working

A piece of you he wasn’t completely able to ruin

Tomorrow: Operation Americana

Tomorrow I will be en route to the Iowa State Fair.  Yes indeed, you read correctly.  My big summer vacation is Des Moines for the fair.  Hooray.

Here's what we will be doing:

1) Eating lots of fried things like hard boiled eggs (us vegetarians need protein), oreos, pb&js, and of course fried dough.

2) Kelly Clarkson concert (why the hell not)

3) Brooks and Dunn concert (ugggh)

4) Gawking at all the corn

5) Getting myself a nice, hardy farm hand.

Pictures soon to follow...

{glorious photo found here}

The Mourning of a Season

Summer is almost over.  I have mixed feelings about it all.  I'm looking forward to fall and the smells of pumpkin and nutmeg, light weight sweaters and coffee shops.  But I do love summer.

I love letting my toes out to breathe.

I like long days that never get cold.

I love being able to let my shoulders see the world.

I love being carefree.

I didn't nap under trees enough.

I want more chances to ride my bike through the city.

I love running with the kids at the park.  It works better than wrinkle cream.

I need the sun to remind me what hope look likes.

I'm afraid of responsibility and the person it turns me into.

Now I'm bogged down with school and work, the threat of snow (I HATE snow) and the realization that I won't be able to write as much anymore.  I'm afraid this passionate streak I've been on is going to fade away amongst the deadlines and tests.

Goal for the next 5 months: Balance productivity and creativity, always favoring creativity.

{the perfect summer photo above was found here}

She's Good With Her Hands

I would like to take a moment and tell you all how my first day of school went.

I was prepared.  I laid out my clothes the night before.  I had all my school supplies packed in my new bag.  I had my light rail route planned out.  I had to work in the morning, but the kids were great all day.  I left their house feeling confident and excited to embark on a new semester of academia.  

I found my class easily enough, got a great seat somewhat towards the back but still in the middle so I wouldn't be tempted to drift in concentration (not that it takes a seating chart to keep me from day dreaming).  A fairly cute guy even sat next to me.  It had the makings of a great first day of school.

And then my political science professor decided we needed to learn how to... what it's like when... ok I'm not totally sure exactly what he was trying to teach us (I may have been daydreaming).  Essentially we had to split up in groups and within those groups find one person that either needed a date, a job, or a raise.  When said person was determined, the group would have to sell that person to the rest of the class, lobbying the fact that they needed it more than anyone else.

I'm not good in groups as it is.  The mere mention of the word gets my heart beating faster and my hands go clammy.  I don't participate in class, ESPECIALLY a political class.  I was already out of my element.  It was most likely this haze of awkwardness that leaves the next details a little difficult to remember.  Suffice it to say that I suddenly found myself volunteered as desperately needing a date.  And the cute boy sitting next me?  He was asking me, pen and paper in hand, what exactly I like most about myself.  I cooly replied "I think I'll need a class of wine and some soft music to answer that question."  He did not think this was funny.  Nor did he find any of my other jokes in the least bit entertaining.

I told him I'm a writer, I love to read and that I find myself fairly intelligent, though not pretentious.  This is what he chose to relay to the class in an effort to "sell" me: "Well, she's cute.  I mean, let's be honest.  And she speaks French [I don't], and come on guys, that's pretty hot.  She plays the piano, so she's good with her hands, if ya know what I mean."  He then winked, I blushed and the class "ooh'd."

To top it off, when it came time to chose, I received one vote.  I was in a group of 6.  Of those 6, one person voted for me.  FROM MY OWN GROUP!  My self esteem has officially plummeted.  Thanks Political Science 101!

When I told my mom the story of being sold in class, she replied the best way a mom can reply:  "Well if they try to do it again, you tell them you're not interested in human trafficking."

{photo found here}

The Art of Letting Go isn't Always Pretty

It's a hard thing realizing you need to let someone go.  This, I'm sure, is not news to anyone.  The only thing more difficult than that, is actually acting on it.  The realization is the easy part, actually doing it... Well it's rough.  

I just sent an email to Mr. Long Distance telling him a friendship between the two of us isn't possible anymore.  The biggest regret I have is wishing the email was more beautifully written.  I aired on the side of caution and gave him the facts and left out the prose.  

I got the first glimpse of him in a possible budding romance through facebook.  This time it's not speculation.  I can tell.  The signs of a crush are there.  I felt like the wind was knocked out of me.  I was doing so well all summer.  I was feeling confident, spunky even.  I got bangs (er... fringe) for God's sake!  It was a whole new me.  And then we had coffee.  He didn't act the way I wanted him to.  He wasn't thrilled to see me.  He didn't call and want me to hang out with him and his friends, and I wasn't able to kindly refuse and tell him I had far more exciting plans with my far more exciting friends.  And he did not confess his undying love for me, and I didn't get to gently explain to him that he and I were just not meant to be, followed by me walking off into the sunset, alone but not lonely.

No, none of those things happened, which sent me into a whirlwind of insecurity.  Why?  I have no idea.  That is what therapists are for and I can't afford one.  All I know now is that having him in my life, being able to see him live without me via social networking is not going to work for me.  

I have no idea if this was the right choice.  It was all very spontaneous.  But it had to be.  Another day, or even another hour could have changed my mind.  I am the queen of second guessing.

Now I'm hitting refresh on my browser, waiting for his reply.  I'm preparing myself for there to be none, but my imagination is sabotaging me again.  Visions of undying love and walking off into the sunset are emerging again.  How do you turn the damn thing off?

A Nostalgic Workout

Hello everyone :) How's your weekend going?  I'm spending mine at my parent's house helping my mom cook for my sister's going away party (she and her husband are moving to North Carolina.  I'd be upset if she wasn't moving to such a great place to visit).  So far it's been much more relaxing than last weekend which was fun, but packed.

Have you ever played Ghost in the Graveyard?  I haven't played since I was about 11 when we were screaming so much we had the cops called.  The neighbors thought a dog was being tortured.  That gives you some idea of how high pitched my voice used to be (still is?)  We decided we needed to bring the game back, got a good group of friends together (and one guy who thinks my name is Ginny Weasely.  A story for another time) and went to Denver's biggest park and gave it a go.  Let me just say, I don't have a competitive bone in my body.  I don't play sports and I was cheerleader (don't judge me), that's about all the athleticism I have.  But when it comes to ghost in the graveyard?  Watch out!  I was on fire.  For the first time I felt the rush of competition.  I was NOT going to be the ghost, so help me God.  I seriously sprinted for 3 hours straight.  After the game I couldn't stop.  I wanted to see who could jump the farthest off the swing and who could spin the longest on the tire swing before they threw up.  No one took these challenges.  I haven't the slightest idea why.  The next day every muscle in my body was mad at me.  Even the arches of my feet were sore.  My abs, my legs, my shoulders, everything.  Let me just say, it's the best workout ever, because you don't even realize you're working.

A boy that I was absolutely head over heels for a few years ago showed up, to my surprise.  He's married now I haven't really spent time with him since they tied the knot.  It was awkward, especially she had thrown him out of the house for the night.  Yeah.  

Another guy that showed up looked and acted just like an old flame we all refer to as Mikey Brian.  And another acted and looked like another past love.  It was like the night of the resurrected ex boyfriend.  Possible inspiration for a horror story.  We'll see...

To top off this cluster f*** of old boyfriends, I had coffee with Mr. Long Distance the next day.  But I found out he reads this, so that's all I'm going to say about that... For now anyway.

Because that is Meaningful and that is Generous and that is what Loving someone is

Just saw this on Le Love.  It pretty much speaks for itself.  I won't muck it up with my own words...

My Little Budding Writer

This is my little Oaklie.  She's 18 months and clearly taking after her mommy and nanny (which is what she calls me since "Sarah" is too hard at this point).  Her mom and I have started writing together so it monopolizes a lot of our conversation.  She must be picking up on it.  She pulled the notebook and pen out by herself, wrapped herself up in a blanket and started to "write."  She's such a smart little munchkin, and with a smile like that, I'm sure she'll grow up to be the next great novelist of our time ;)  

"I Like Your Bangs"*

Well I did it.  I realized I've been sporting the "low maintenance look" for long enough.  With the school year starting and my aspirations high to really do well this semester, I decided I need a new look to match.  And so, I got bangs.  Bangs enhance your intelligence, didn't you know? 

*Quote from Napoleon Dynamite.  Haha.

How Have I Never Read This Before?

Oh my word, I'm not even half way done but I love it already.  It makes me want to drop everything and write a novel in one sitting.  I thought it was going to be dark and twisty like all his other books.  I've never actually read a Stephen King novel (but I HAVE stayed at the Stanley Hotel, where he was inspired to write The Shining.  It's very creepy).  This is so far removed what I imagine his others are like though.  It's part memoir, part instructional.  He has a really down to earth view on writing and gives wonderful advice like:

"... put your desk in the corner, and every time you sit down there to write, remind yourself why it isn't in the middle of the room.  Life isn't a support-system for art.  It's the other way around."

“Freedom of inquiry, freedom of discussion, and freedom of teaching - without these a university cannot exist”

{found here}

I love school supplies.  It's really unhealthy actually.  I have piles and piles of barley full notebooks lying around.  I tend to stop taking notes/actually going to class about half way through the semester.  But, rather than reusing them term after term, I give into the desire for blank pages, unsharpened pencils and ball point pens.

I went to Target tonight to stock up, and had a hard time deciding between

 the Hannah Montana/Zack Afron/ Twilig

ht paraphernalia.  So instead I went for the way cute recycled collection.  A little more pricey, but us college kids can swing it right?  Well no, we can't, but never-the-less I went the eco friendly route this year.  Hopefully the cast of HSM3 can forgive me.

I also got these today from Etsy.  I almost bought a lunch box but refrained.  After all these years I'm learning...

At least maybe I'll look smart and well prepared and that will transcend via mitosis into my brain cells keeping me motivated all semester long.  See?  I'm sounding intelligent already :)