Adventure #58: The Write Time

I realized I want to share what I've been writing, lately. I haven't been sharing the day to day things I've done because I think my writing is a more accurate and honest representation of what my recent life has been like. I make no promises about quality, only authenticity from the moments in which the words were drawn. So I have some catching up to do, but here are some thoughts from several weeks ago.

Stare out the windows and watch for him passing by, with hope and a deep-seated sickness. 

You want to see him, walk near him, turn the corner and face him because neither of you believe in fate.  

You still hope, hope he'll see you, really see you this time, and change his mind, his heart. 

So you keep baring yourself, let him see you even though your hair's a mess and your skin is irritated by the cold.  

And each time, his steps don't falter, his eyes don't brighten, his gaze never lingers.  

And each time you hear, "Don't." 

But you'd like to see him again tomorrow.

And as these were written in the same sitting, in the same state of mind, I think it's appropriate to share them simultaneously as well.

You're missing something. What are you lying about? 

His rejection does make you question who you are. His indifference does make you feel worthless. You're clamoring to share in his sadness or his happiness again. Desperate to know, to feel him. 

It's okay... Little one... You are not invincible. You bared your heart, unmasked your soul, and it's okay that you cried when he looked away. It's alright, Little one... 

Sit in the sun, write, let the tears cast rainbows on your eyelashes, sniffle when your nose runs, shake all over when it's too much, let your arms hang when they feel empty, hug yourself when your chest aches... 

You will find yourself again, Little one... 

Adventure #57: Thanks, Thoreau

So much has happened since I last posted about an adventure... I went to an amazing concert (thank you to my wonderful boyfriend for accompanying me <3), was given a camera (thank you to my wonderful Aunt <3), toured the Anniversary Inn just for fun, wrote poetry every day, packed my things to move into a new place next weekend, and more...

I usually hate to just list what I've been up to, but I had lost the will to describe these events in any kind of detail... I've been focusing on finding my voice in poetry, so I wonder if I needed to just let go of my preferred prose for a while in order to find another piece of my voice.

I do feel like I've accomplished this, to some extent. I've written some form of poetry every day for the last month, and I've really learned so much. It's exciting to be pursuing this finally.

Past inconsistencies explained, this brings me to today.

Today was my first day in quite some time that I've had almost entirely to myself. I took the opportunity to meet with a friend and help them begin to parse Shakespeare's sonnets for a project. I hadn't studied his sonnets before, so I'm glad that I got the chance to help some, and I plan to study them more on my own time as well. Then I got myself lunch, and spent a few quiet hours in the library. I came home and took a much needed nap, too! Later in the evening, I went to a lecture on Henry David Thoreau, and was inspired to return to my blogging.

I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but by something in Thoreau's story of learning the histories of his fellow neighbors at Walden Pond, surveying the pond, gardening, writing, and maintaining his philosophies in spite of scrutiny, I felt reminded of the significance of my own small stories. While I believe I can bring more meaning to them through poetry, the simple and honest retelling of my experiences feels somewhat pure... I don't need to bring any more meaning to my stories in this context, as they matter simply because they are real.

Now I desperately need a copy of Walden, as well.

Following the lecture, it was night time, and I wandered a bit, bought myself a small coffee that turned medium, as they were out of small cups, and wandered some more. It turns out that the ILC has four floors. I'd never been higher than the second, and had never thought to before. I looked out at the campus from each floor as I went, then would cross to the other staircase, intending to descend, and realizing that I hadn't noticed another ascending flight, I would take those stairs up, look out the windows, cross the floor, and find a new set of stairs previously unnoticed, as I had been so focused on just exploring whichever floor I knew to be next. On the fourth floor, the view was so beautiful... And there was an odd, small set of stairs leading up to an alcove and a grey door. I hope the door leads to the roof, but it was definitely locked. I did try to open it.

Then I walked home in the most perfect weather I can imagine.

When in the company of books

Don't whisper too softly

or the books will hear your awe

and admire you so much for it,

the pages themselves will

abandon their bindings

and scatter off the shelves.