Artsy Fartsy

I've always been really interested in poetry as a form of expression. I go to poetry slams and listen to others' works and talk about how I'd like to give it a go myself one day. My friend Ray is a poet and took me to a few readings. Every time we g chat I tell him I want to write or go to a workshop and he says, "do it" and then I don't.

I get afraid to try things that I don't know a lot about or don't know if I'll be good at. I was whining about this to Ray over g chat the other day...how I don't even know what poetry really is or what form it should be in or...here's how the conversation went:

me: i want to try writing poetry but have a hard time starting because i don't know the form or anything

i'm a perfectionist like that

allsense: don't worry about form

desire is everything

don't censor your voice

if i could offer any advice

to someone who wanted to write

it would be to write

first and foremost

the rest comes

when it's ready

me: cool. thanks for the tip. i just need to start putting pen to paper instead of thinking about it so much.

allsense: exactly!

there's a saying in architecture

critics build nothing.

Thank you, Ray. I needed that. Here's to buliding:

Puppet
You want to live your life on a stage
To act and sound off and do your dance
And that is fine
But only for a while.

For what happens, good man, when the crowds are gone
And the lights are off
And one, just one, remains?
The one man show has no finite end
And your dance is for survival
Then it is just me and you and
You and Me

Suddenly you've forgotten the words to all your songs
But I remember and sing along
Your hands and feet and head and heart
Seem all in the wrong places
No matter how you move them

.....(work in progress)


Right
The anticipation
Subtle glances and touches
Wondering if their meaning is mutual
Or merely a polite face

And with one touch--prolonged--
All is answered
And all is right
For that fleeting moment

Hands meet, then eyes, then lips
Faces close, breath in your ear
Hearing a smile with your eyes closed
Time and history do not interfere

In this moment there are two--
People with racing hearts
Admiring each other's beauty
And tasting each other's lips, so sweet
In this moment there are just two, no more

And you freeze this moment
And carry it with you
Into a complicated life
And a complicated world

And this moment offers hope
Enough to to stretch across a wide span of valleys
A hope that knows sometimes things can be right

That sometimes two is just enough.


Thinking
Anticipation is weighty
And a dream deferred even moreso
There is never rest from the "what if"

When is it ok to trust?
And will there be someone to hold that trust
And consider it their honor?
What is that delicate balance between God and human?

Is there always one who cares more--
Who is destined to be on the receiving end of hurt?

Perhaps it is a calling
That beats you up in time
But somehow makes you stronger too.

Reality Check

Tonight I went to go see "Up in the Air" with Kari and another friend. I was expecting a love story that left my heart feeling fluttery and hopeful. What I got was not that. What I got was (spoiler alert) George Clooney showing up on her doorstep only to find out she's married with kids. Married with kids, people. I am now replaying the entire movie in my head in light of this bomb that was dropped at the end.

After, I was naturally complaining about how the movie was depressing and sad. Kari said, "I liked it. It was real life." I then said something very mature along the lines of, "But I want the fairy tale, dammit!" followed by lots of internal grumbling about real life and how movies are supposed to be an escape from that....blah blah blah.

She's right (won't be the first time). It's real life. In real life, every guy you'd like to date usually finds a reason to flake. In real life, people marry (or don't marry) for the wrong reasons and fall out of love and feel stressed out by kids. In real life, the timing is usually all jacked up. One's staying, one's leaving. There are families involved and in-laws and personal baggage. In real life, sometimes people cheat.

I came home to pack for a fun weekend in San Diego and found a billion e-mails from my boss about an event I'm planning, all just sitting there in my inbox waiting for when I get back. That is real life. Not San Diego, not the happy ending.

Sometimes I'm not good at real life. I don't want to deal. Or I don't know how to deal, so I run away mentally, physically, whatever. Apparently this is the fatal flaw of my Pisces brand. I'm really good at larger than life, which I think is why people generally like me.

I'm trying to get better at this real life thing: acknowledging it, stepping into it, messy-ing myself with it. And maybe, just maybe, one day actually liking it.