Diary of a lost girl

Facts.

Every year, with the best intentions...

I don't know why I think I will be a prolific blogger. Sometimes I have a lot to say about writing, other days I'm stuck in the cycle that seems to define so many 30 somethings: work, hobby, sleep, rinse, wash, repeat. It doesn't feel very... creatively fecund.

I also sustained minor brain damage and whiplash earlier this month, and have had difficulty reading and tracking across a page. So, I'm sure that didn't help.

I really enjoy writing prose. Not sure I ever thought I would say that. Random thoughts about writing prose:

• I've worked in healthcare so long that I accidentally write passive sentences all the time and don't even realize I've done it.
• I don't really give a shit about ending sentences in prepositions. It doesn't really bother me. Really.
• I love sentence fragments, though!
• I enjoy getting obsessively lost in worlds I've created and entirely in my own imagination, which I think must be what hubris feels like. Sorry, invisible spaghetti god.

Oh, I made myself a new writing room! My wife calls it my mancave, which amuses me. 

Anyway, I got into a fight with Abbey about how old I am tonight. It was mostly playful but she was right and I am a year older than I thought, and I may have cried a little bit on the way home. This undoubtedly brought me to the conclusion that I need to be writing more, because WHERE IS MY LIFE GOING??? IT IS JUST ESCAPING ME! Must write more. Must write more. Other people are having babies. I need to birth this trilogy, man. Or maybe it will end up just being one fuck all long ass book. Whatever! I live dangerously.

Next blog: coming sometime in the near future. Perhaps it will have content besides rambling. 

Peace out, friends. 

April 10th, 2016

Three years ago it was thundering
like today
growling across the
grey, balding dome

We eat Frangelica monkey bread
forks sticky instead of fingers

and find warmth
in an embrace
that opens and closes this story
beside the aching spring clouds

April 9th, 2016

Let this be a lost day

the kind where coffee 

is hot, black, and unlimited

strap on some roller skates

and sweat until we forget words

and the complicated layers

of our misbegotten thirties

April 7th, 2016

This day
We spent in hospital waiting rooms
no longer sterile white, or 90s pastels
but filled with landscape art
with textured seating
and warm wood-grain frames
we waited in the cafeteria
and took breaks
huddled for warmth in the truck bed
Just like the other families
whose names were called alongside

April 6th, 2016

Fingers like trees, with rings

new, green, young in the wind

mirrored on each side

One for a wedding

from a wife 

for a wife

One for the heart

from a red head

We start fresh each year

like bulbs

Recommitting to the bloom

April 8th, 2016

I will lead you through the forest
but we will get lost
because there are few things
I need as intensely
as the pungent smell
of a shedding cedar
to dangle my toes over the shadows
of water striders
cast against the rocky creek bottom
to work my way down root framed stairs
and wind through deer trails
without regard for
time or space or others

April 5th, 2016

It's easy to find poetry
In the pocked Capen bluffs

Or the swarm of carp
Bright beneath the gentle
Lapping waves of a waiting pond

Or the relentless flood
Of an April Missouri

It's an escape that gets me
Through to tomorrow

April 4th, 2016

The crux of aquamarine
And mud is simply the
Place where spring meets
River after an Easter rain
Even the fish shiver in
The biting spring winds

April 3rd, 2016

When I'm gone cold, someday,
Plant me beneath a forest.
Give me this last wish-
To feed the roots, to
Soften the steps of fresh
Fawns, to lay beneath
An ancient canopy's shade.
So i can finally find my way home.

April 2nd, 2016

Sometimes you
Just need to embrace
The metal tree with
Sculpted metal shelf
Mushrooms and soak
In the sun-drenched
West side, lean in to
Hear the wind reverberate
Down the metal trunk.

April 1st, 2016

On an April morning
The chickens puffer out
Like bobble heads with
Scaley legs- the cats curl
Into a sister moon
On the bathroom vent-
And Melissa is smiling
In her sleep, blanket
Pulled up to her chin

Going on 15

The pit of a peach 

is buried in my stomach

acid-pocked and embedded 

in the lining

Or maybe it's just 

the nausea and the impending

worry that I will never 

figure out who I want to be 

when I grow up

NaPoWriMo

Hello, imaginary readers of my poetry blog! You'll be pleased to know that I intend to write 30 poems in 30 days starting in April.

Because April is National Poetry Month and that's my favorite month of the year- when tree pollen isn't having their way with my sinuses. Learn more about awesome activities for National Poetry Month by visiting Poets.org's fabulous website. Fabulous activities they are hosting include (but are not limited to): poem in a pocket, Dear poet, and 30 more ways to celebrate.

If I remember, I'd like to try committing a new poem to memory. I'll be picking something from here. Perhaps...

Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802
William Wordsworth 

Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

I have listed my blog at NaPoWriMo and I'm using Camp NaNoWriMo to help keep me motivated and connected to my friends who are also participating in a 30 day writing challenge (Hi Sleazer and Michelle!)

Oh, maybe I'll make some youtube videos!

I don't know man, let's have fun with this!

Easter poeeeem

Your first Peep of Easter, 

A bright thing that melts

and sticks to the roof of 

your mouth, a child's comfort

that you put away for 

healthy greens and carrots

and thin slices of lamb

But I like memory of you

when you were a bright thing, 

a ruddy-cheeked smile split from

dimple to dimple and I miss 

the way you found laughter

simply in holding hands or

the way odd clouds at sunset.

When you get lost in the forest-

I found two sinkholes

and ran to the crest of a hill

Just to see the valley on the other side

I bounced up a rock-lined trail

and ran my fingers down limestone stairs

and remembered how to fill my lungs and my belly

how to run in the March winds until the deer trail ends

At a loss for words

This has been a tough week in my life, for a myriad of personal reasons. It feels like my poetry this week is struggling around some of these things, and I haven't quite hit the words, but I'm working on it. Maybe it isn't the words, but finding a way to really look at the emotions, at the feelings, and convey them with a punch. It would be nice to punch something. With words. Like a grown ass woman.

Here's to a fresh week, my friends. May your words flow like wine, your wine flow like water, and your water be lead-free.

Goal setting, writing, the New Year

Goals for this upcoming year:

Write!

Write!

Write!

Derby!

Derby!

Write!

Derby!

Derby! Derby!

Write.

Maybe publish? Eh? :/

But seriously, I have a bunch of stories I want to get out- so I am delving into prose again, this year- but also, I'm going to keep this little guy updated more regularly! I enjoy talking to myself in public, which is basically what this blog is...

If you do follow my writing blog, feel free to comment or pitch in whenever you'd like! I love engaging with my readers and all feedback is welcome. Unless you're a dick, then obviously I'll respond negatively. Keep it constructive or gtfo.

In 2015, I participated in NaNoWriMo: started and finished a book. Ambitiously, I'm hoping to knock out the second book this year and start on a third from the same fantasy world. I also have some poetry to work on, so I'm going to try to keep this steam rolling.

My intention is to get a blog post up at least once a week (Sunday, but that's not strict) and to do a 5 in 5 challenge once a month (5 poems in 5 days). 

Write at you, soon.

A Tree in January

Upside down

we are just writhing

shadows, snakes sliding

over each other

and disappearing

into the depths 

of the frozen

grasslands

But look up, 

and I reach to the sky

unfettered

living

dancing in the 

harsh, cold gusts

of wind

Happy 2016, or whatever

"Everyone lies about writing. They lie about how easy it is or how hard it was. They perpetuate a romantic idea that writing is some beautiful experience that takes place in an architectural room filled with leather novels and chai tea. They talk about their "morning ritual" and how they "dress for writiing" and the cabin in Big Sur where they go to "be alone" -blah blah blah. No one tells the truth about writing a book. Authors pretend their stories were always shiny and perfect and just waiting to be written. The truth is, writing is this: hard and boring and occasionally great but usually not. Even I have lied about writing. I have told people that writing this book has been like brushing away dirt from a fossil. What a load of shit. It has been like hacking away at a freezer with a screwdriver."

~Amy Poehler, Yes Please

I had a wonderful conversation with one of my teammates last night, somewhere before or after midnight. We were talking about roller derby and how there are moments that are sparkly and wonderful and you want to scream "Yeah buddy! I did a thing!" but for the most part, it's hard and sometimes you just want to sit down and cry for hours because you just can't get it. Then I started reading Yes Please, a badass Christmas present from my brother-in-law, and I was like YES. THIS. There are some life lessons and shit right there.

Shit is mostly hard and boring, but because you slog through you get to create and witness something that makes all of it worthwhile.

So last year was mostly shit, but I wrote another book! Yessss. It was mostly poorly done, but it is finished and the next one will be better because I got through the first one and I learned some shit.

Hope y'all learned some shit this past year and that next year you have at least one Hell Yes moment.