Risky Business

Today, my poetry professor emailed me to tell me I'm too hard on myself and that I am a gifted writer. He thinks that I am always looking for the right answer, which can't exist in poetry. I think that what he said was true, but I would include that what I really want is to know that I am on the right track. I want to know that I'm saying something meaningful to someone other than me. I think I'm starting to need validation as a writer.
It's too late for me to switch my major, but I want to know that what I'm writing isn't complete bullshit. Poetry is my downfall, and unexpectedly my poetry classes are my favorite this quarter. I would still consider myself a fiction writer, but I think I'm learning more from this class than any other writing class so far.
So here it goes, I'm going to post a draft of a poem that I am working on. You can hate it, love it, or tell me it needs work. I'm up for anything. My professor also told me that I take criticism well, I am willing to rewrite and that I am an open, risk taking person in my writing.
So here's another risk, posting my own poem online.

Outside

In one moment our friendship was lost

Like the dog on the sign taped to that streetlight

My boyfriend is drunkenly petting a stray cat on the lawn

Your boyfriend is next to me saying you didn’t mean it

You snarled and snapped and stomped back into the house

the house where everyone else drinks and laughs

The house where I should be instead on this concrete curb,

My hands cupping my face
and your boyfriend, not mine

Attempting to bring me inside

Your boyfriend laughs when I tell him there’s nothing left to fix

"Tears stream down your face"

I don't believe that anyone goes to class ever expecting to cry. Let alone have the whole class break out into tears. Men and women sobbing, leaving the room, wiping their cheeks, hiding in their hands. That's not something you expect from a class.

But today, that's what happened in my honors creative writing class.

My professor, the week before this class told us to write down what we want to say in our poetry. We all wrote things like "the truth", "experience", and all that other cliche stuff you say to not say what you actually want to say. He made us get more specific, and I wrote down about a moment in my life that I think of every once and a while that haunts me. He told us to write about those things in our poems due the next week.

Everyone's poems were decent, and they didn't specifically acknowledge anything in the author's life. Even mine, though a story (because I'm a fiction writer) didn't acknowledge my true feelings about the subject of the poem. But my professor asked everyone to talk about what their poem was really about. Each member of my small class talked about personal issues in their lives and many cried.

I think a lot of the students were turned off by the class, now feeling hesitant to write about things so personal, but for me it only made my love of writing grow stronger. I felt connected the kids in the class, the kids that I still don't remember all the names of. I truly believe crying about these poems is going to turn them into better and more meaningful poems.

Guess I will find out next week!

The Fault in Our Stars

I finished reading "The Fault in Our Stars" by John Green. John Green has a way of pulling at my heart and making me cry even when I know that he is going to pull at my heart and make me cry.

I often annoy myself with my knack for predicting the ends of books, movies, and episodes of television because it ruins the end for me. I'm no longer sad or happy or whatever emotion the writer intended the reader/viewer to be. But John Green made my terrible knack okay, I still felt everything that he wanted in his readers.

John Green is who I aspire to be as a writer. If I could write my own life story I would write the way he writes and for a similar audience. I realized after finishing his book tonight that I need to re-read his stuff and almost study it. Study it the way some of my professors tell me to study all books. The thought of "studying" my favorite books used to make me kind of sick. I just wanted to appreciate the books even if I couldn't put into words what made their novel great in my opinion. But now, I want to. I want to learn how to be John Green, but myself. Hopefully, I can do this without copying his novels and stories. I guess I want to be the female John Green, with hints of my other favorite writers and such.

Inspire me.

I believe I've mentioned in a previous post, but I'll mention again that I need inspiration to write. I'm not the kind of writer who just writes randomly for hours. I like to wait until I have something I want to write about.
That flaw or whatever it may be considered has been worrying me for this upcoming quarter. I'm taking three workshop classes, so I'm going to need a lot of inspiration.
Fortunately, I already found some. It was simple, actually. I don't want to post all about my short story here, but I want to share my love of waiting for inspiration.
Waiting makes me feel unburdened by my writing, and the words flow out. I think my characters sound more real, and I think my story is going to be funny. And I'm not great at funny.
Hopefully, I keep getting inspired. Especially for my poetry workshops. Poetry writing is my greatest flaw in being a writer. I just don't have poetry in my poetry. Not to make myself sound amazing but I feel I often have poetry in my fiction, but not in actual poems.

Life's Library

I always try to make a point to read a lot during my breaks. At first, during this winter break I was failing a little. I was just watching How I Met Your Mother, and Angel and also cleaning my apartment to the point of being anal retentive.

But then I remembered that I wanted to see The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and I couldn't go see it without reading the book first. So I pulled the book off my shelf that I bought in the summer at my church's carnival's used book store and began reading.

As usual, I couldn't stop reading. I finished it faster than I intended. I finished it while I was visiting my family, and I hadn't thought to bring an extra book. Which was stupid (but had I brought the extra book, I probably wouldn't have finished).

I wanted to keep reading, even though there is endless television to watch. So I borrowed The Help. I haven't seen the movie yet, and I've heard a lot of mixed reviews. My sisters seemed to like it, even though Sarah hadn't watched the movie either. I enjoyed it, but it wasn't comparable to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

I finished The Help in a matter of days, and tried to go back to television (there's always so much left to watch). But I ended up reading (in one sitting) the first of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer comic book series. After that I realized I really need to pace myself. Maybe one comic and then one real book? But what about HIMYM and Angel? Those need to be watched! And then I looked at my book shelf, and I realized on my tiny shelves I've crammed more books than the shelves can hold. I have also only read a little over half of them. Some of these unread books are from last Christmas, and some from this Christmas. Many are borrowed from friends, who have probably wondered by now what happened to their books. It almost makes me sad when I realize how little I have read. But I also know that I read all the time. This quarter alone I read approximately one book a week (plus poetry and short stories) for my classes. I'm also freaking out wondering how my next quarter classes haven't posted books, wondering if that means I have no books to read next quarter. That's unimaginable to me. No books for class! WHAT?!

Then I remembered this, “ 'Have you really read all those books in your room?'
Alaska laughing- 'Oh God no. I’ve maybe read a third of ‘em. But I’m going to read them all. I call it my Life’s Library. Every summer since I was little, I’ve gone to garage sales and bought all the books that looked interesting. So I always have something to read.' " - John Green, Looking for Alaska

It makes sense that my favorite novel sums up my problem, my life actually, completely. There's never enough time, but there will also never be enough books. So, I'm just going to keep reading, and keep watching television and not think about the time or how much is left. I'm just going to keep going.

And one night, HE COMES. The most horrible man in the world...Santa Claus.

My Christmas break was short and sweet. It sort of saddens me that I was only home for four days for Christmas, but I need the money. I also left on a happy note, not my usual "Okay, I'm ready to get as far away from these people as I reasonably can." I love my family, and they love me; but too much time together and there will be an explosion of emotion.


My only problem with not being home for very long was my lack of time with my friends. I miss them, and I realized that now whenever we see each other it's always to catch-up never to really spend time together. Somehow to me, those two things are different. And I miss just spending time with my friends.

The best part of my Christmas vacation was having Adam come home with me. I've never had a boyfriend spend Christmas morning with me, let alone not be afraid of me and my family after having to listen to arguments over cookies and gluten-free ham. We saw Adam's family on Christmas Day too, on my way back to school for work. Even if his mother hates me (like I suspect) his family was still nice to be with, and his little brother likes me and liked my Christmas present to him.

Overall, I loved Christmas this year. It came and went too quick, but I have a feeling that just means I'm actually an adult now. On to 2012!

Music Appreciation Post- The National

I would just like to take a moment to talk about the genius that is the band, The National.
Their music is beautiful, lyrics poetic, and Matt Berninger's vocals are full of passion and honesty. His voice, their lyrics, and the music are honest in that they bear all emotion upfront but not with fanfare, completely simple.
Most of the time, all my "sad day" music (as I like to call it) goes out the window when I'm in a relationship, but despite my happiness their music still calls to me. I can't turn it off, and I can't help but play it.



"You know you have a permanent piece, of my medium-sized American heart."