On thinking

I think in other people’s words. I think in movie lines and song lyrics and passages from books. Sometimes, I even think in advertising slogans. Often, I think in sound bytes.

Why?

It’s quite simple, really. Thinking in someone else’s words is so much easier than thinking in my own. Thinking in other people’s words is safer, less painful. It keeps me from having to dig deep, from having to face uncomfortable possibilities.

Thinking in other people’s words keeps me from really getting to know myself. And therein lies the problem.

If I never dig deep enough to find out who I am, do I really exist? If  I think in other people’s words, am I a real person, or simply a copy of a thousand other selves? A clone?

To think in other people’s thoughts is to blend into the background, to be an indistinguishable part of the whole. I contain multitudes, but I don’t stand out from them.

Sometimes it’s necessary to stand out, to stand on one’s own. But by thinking in someone else’s thoughts, I keep myself chained to a pole, unable to stand on my own.

I am a sapling in a biosphere, immune to the wind…until the transparent sphere falls away. Then I will fall, for my roots are shallow and weak.

I think in other people’s thoughts, but I really ought to stop. My own thoughts have value and meaning, and it’s time I recognized that fact. It’s time I came up with a few thoughts of my own.

If I want to leave my mark on the world, I won’t be able to rely on other people’s thoughts.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

Advertisements

Dream World

A lake of fire gleams
In the west, a warm end to
The remains of day.

The eastern sky is
A pastel rainbow, capped by
A gleaming full moon.

In light or in gloom,
In cold or in warmth,  nature
Inspires my dreams.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

Golden Coup

Nothing gold can stay, says Frost,
And surely he would know.
For if the gold had not been lost,
He would have told us so.

Nothing gold can stay – it’s true.
But maybe if we try,
We can execute a coup
And turn that truth to lie.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

Brain dump

They move in the mist,
Creatures of old-time myths.

***

She clung to the cup.
Her frigid fingers curled round the paper,
Desperate to draw
The last ounce of warmth
From the lukewarm liquid sloshing inside
As she scurried from building to building
In the bitter fall rain.

***

I want to be the next Great American Novelist.
I want to write great litrashure.
“You’re a great writer. You just have to find your story.”

***

I’ve been writing in fits and starts for three months now. In a burst of inspiration, I jot down the brilliance (because let’s face it – when you’re a writer and the spirit moves you, it (whatever it may be) is always brilliant) that comes into my head like medieval grace. But then, hours or days or sometimes weeks later, when I return to it, the grace is gone, and I can no longer remember where I was going with what I had written.

Not having finished anything is starting to really irritate me. The only things I’ve managed to finish writing have been for class assignments, and those were only finished with much wailing and gnashing of teeth as the deadline approached (and occasionally, as it whooshed by).

I imagine it’s going to get worse before it gets better, what with taking more classes next semester than I did this semester, and I suppose I’m going to have to accept that fact. I wish I hadn’t been so dumb the first time I did college. I wish I hadn’t let fear of failure rule my life. I was afraid I’d never make new friends, I was afraid my relationship would wither and die and I’d be all alone in the great big world, a little girl playing at being a grown-up. I think I was also afraid of success and sabotaged myself before I had the chance to succeed.

They say hindsight is 20/20, and they’re definitely right, but I wish I hadn’t always had to do things the hard way. Hopefully I won’t continue to always do things the hard way.

College in your thirties is definitely hard, especially when there are so many things you want to do that you can’t because you have a family and a job and so many things that require your attention. College in my twenties would have been so much simpler. Even if I still couldn’t have done all the things I wanted to do, at least the demands on my time were fewer.

Thank goodness, I guess, that I’m a self-directed learner.

Also, thank goodness for caffeine. Because without it, there is no way I’d have made it through this semester and no way I could make it through the upcoming ones.

All glory to caffeine! 😀

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

Picture Perfect

Practice your ballerina hands, the email said, without much clarification on how to do that.

I looked down at my hands. They were frying pan hands, and the Teflon was peeling.

Practice pointing your toes like a ballerina, the email said. But I’m no ballerina, and all my practice was futile.

Practice smiling genuinely, the email said. At last, something I could do! But when I looked in the mirror, all I could see was the ruby nightmare that framed my face and glittered beneath the bright white vanity lights.

So much for that idea, I thought.

I took a deep breath and tried again. This time, instead of imagining…

Just when you thought I was out of inspirational quotes…

Today’s quote is one of my absolute favorites to come from this project, and it’s courtesy of Katie M. Dean:

never-be-afraid-because-you-will-change-at-least-one-life-with-your-writing-and-its-okay-if-that-life-is-yours-katie-m-dean

Seriously. There is so much I love about this quote that I don’t even know where to begin. It was like getting hit by lightning, a slap in the face of pure duh.

Like, why hadn’t I thought of this sooner?

This is quite possible one of the best quotes I have ever read. About anything. And I have a whole spiral-bound notebook full of quotations that I’ve been keeping for the better part of two decades – this one trumps them all.

Love. This.

What is your absolutely positively all-time favorite quote?

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

The Moon In Her Eyes – Remix

Tonight I’m reworking a prose poem I wrote a while back. Originally, it was a single paragraph, but I’m wondering if this form might work better. Please – share your thoughts below!

The night was dark and the moon was high
As the brave young man strode calmly by
And promised to pluck the moon from the sky
For the girl he loved to wear in her eyes.

He aimed with his arrow,
And shot true and high,
Encircling the moon with a great length of twine,
But it wasn’t enough to capture the prize.

For the moon it continued
To climb through the sky,
And as it did it pulled on the twine,
And ever so slowly did the brave young man rise

Till he found himself alone in the sky

With the moon and his arrow and a great length of twine,
And no way to get back
To the girl that he loved
With the moon in her eyes.

For ever and always
He’ll continue to try
To capture the moon
To hang in the eyes

Of the girl that he loved
On that cold, dark night,
And he’ll never forget
The way that she cried

When he disappeared into
The great black sky
To fetch her the moon
To wear in her eyes.

He’ll never forget
The way that she died
With the moon shining brightly
In her dark brown eyes.

And now it’s your turn – which version do you like better, the prose version or this one? Tell me in the comments!

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

Innocence

In sweet green pastures
I think of you, and all the
Love that we once knew.

In sweet green pastures,
I see you fly, soaring high
So you touch the sky.

In sweet green pastures
I lie and dream of all that
Was, or at least seemed.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.