Tuesday, May 30, 2017
It has been one fucked up Great Room, boxes packed & unpacked, one faux president that left the country, embarrassed us overseas and returned, me reestablishing a writing studio (still in progress) lots of sifting through pictures, etc. (or as my wife likes to say, "we don't have time to go down memory lane." Too numerous things that I cannot find to mention them all here, and of course two fricking weeks since my last confession.
I confess that emotions and anger are high. I was not in favor of selling our home. Nor was I in favor of moving where we have moved. A contractor was brought in to do some things to the house before we sell it. One of the things I did not want and was conveyed to Tom the contractor was that the dark hardwood which comprised the bulk of the room itself was NOT to be painted. This was conveyed by my wife early on. Yet a week ago Sunday we stopped by hand there was bird-shit white primer on all the wooden walls and beams. I'm not talking about some cheap paneling. I went ballistic. It remains one of the most angry moments of my lifetime. The contractor was a friend of the family and he had done work for us before including twice painting the exterior of the home. This room is what sold me on the house when we bought it. Vaulted ceiling - floor to ceiling brick fireplace with built in bookcases of the dame dark wood, floor to ceiling on either side of the fireplace. Seeing this made me both physically sick as well as tremendously angry.
Watching the president fly off to the world beyond was surreal. It was like good, he's out of our hair. The reality is that he was still on the planet and he could still do damage, act like a complete bully/sociopath that he is and give the rest of the watching world a horrible image of Americans. I confess, he is nothing like most of us. And yes, there is the reality that he returned.
Moving is stressful. Years ago I was a Realtor and I recall a reprint from a trade journal that indicated that moving was one of the three most stressful events in life only behind death of a close family member and dissolution of a marriage. This move compound multiple elements of disfavor for my part. One is the move itself. I've never liked moving even if I was going someplace that I had a positive anticipation about. Second is the sale fo the house (which has not yet occurred) - but I had no interest in leaving this home anytime soon. I rise every day, drive to the same job I've worked for 30 years. I'm not an invalid, My mind is fully intact. I loved my home. Why would I want to sell it?
And last, I did not want to move in with another family member. I love my family but I also value autonomy. The house in not in a geographical area I wanted to live in. The house is much smaller, no basement. Between the humans and pets, it is cramped quarters. I feel like I moved into a Tiny House and I am not a Tiny House kind of guy. All this I confess increases the stress above and beyond that normally associated with moving.
Honestly, I feel somewhere between a refugee and an Expatriate who can't go back to his homeland. As long as we are confessing, I'll throw that in there too.
On a positive note, I have continued this month to submit work again. Getting back in the routine of Saturday Submissions. I confess that I know this is good and in a matter of time I will be back to getting somewhat regular new pieces of poetry published.
I confess that moving brings back memories. It is bound to. You find and reminisce over old snapshots, Watching a home empty out is like a time laps video o your life there. That alone uncorks emotions - aged and taking on flavors of the past.
I confess that I am excited that I will be work-shopping writing with some others from the Writer 2 Writer 2017 Spring Session. I'm as anxious to see everyone else's work as I am for them to see mine.
I confess that part is a little scary too.
This past week I had a scheduled Artist Date and I confess I need to be better about doing those. At least a couple times a month.
Over the weekend I enjoyed one of my wife's exquisite dishes that she learned from her grandmother, good old Polish Golumbki. I confess I could never tire of it.
It also occurred to me this weekend that June is about here and that means it is time for my annual Poetry Crush - Six Pack List. I confess I've had names swirling around and some will no doubt rise to the top and - there will be six of them. I guess you'll have to keep checking back until they are announced later in June. :-)
I feel totally confessed out. I can think of nothing more--
Until next time, stay safe! Enjoy life.
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
I've entered one poetry contest, sent out 4 poems, all new (meaning they have never been submitted anywhere else before), concluded Module 6 in the Spring Writer 2 Writer program, and there has been a whole lot of shit happening in Washington since my last confession.
Follow me to the confessional....
Reader, I'm tired. moving does that to you. I'm in cramped quarters and started over putting together a writing studio again. I miss my old one. I miss everything about our home. Contractor is doing stuff there now but it's empty and I confess it looks like it is lonely too. Do you think houses have emotions?
I missed last weeks confession Tuesday because life was happening. A lot of life has been happening lately and it seems to get in the way. Still, I've tried hard to get some focused writing time in over the weekend. Worked on one new poem in particular for many hours over Saturday night and Sunday. I confess that it felt good when I included it in the contest material that I sent out.
I don't enter a lot of contests but this one particular one I've done maybe 3 or 4 times. I think this makes 4. It is sponsored by a Journal that I especially like and it is often featuring other writers I especially enjoy reading.
In an email exchange this past week with my mentor Ken Waldman, we talked about goals, both short term and long term. We have agreed to touch base around the first of January to see how the short term goals are going. I confess that I am really grateful for the opportunity that has been afforded me by AWP in the form of the Writer 2 Writer mentoring program. And as for Ken, I cannot thank him enough.
I hate to take a downward turn now but I confess that I am appalled at the behavior of President Trump. I confess that I always had concerns about him being fit for the office but I have to say that his behaviors are embarrassing and he is clueless. His ethics are non existent. He is the most childish person of adult age I have ever seen. He lacks to capacity to be truthful. He has the attention span of flea and has put our nation and democracy at risk in so many ways. He has now obstructed justice and in spite of any finding that collusion with Russia goes as high as him, he is now a candidate for impeachment for trying to derail the investigation by the various law enforcement and national security agencies that are investigating the Russia and Trump campaign connection. I confess that I believe we all will be better off when this man leaves the White House and his many business annexes and enters prison in an orange jumpsuit.
That's it for now... I beg your absolution for going political.
Saturday, May 06, 2017
Tuesday, May 02, 2017
To the confessional....
Reader, my life is about to be turned upside down and inside out. We are going to sell our home and move. If there is one thing that I hate more than moving ( and there isn't much) it would be selling the home that I absolutely love in a hundred different ways. At one point in my life I was a Realtor. I recall reading an article from Psychology Today that was reprinted in a trade magazine which listed moving as one of the three most traumatic things a person goes through the other two were death of a close family member and dissolution of a marriage. I truly understand that and believe it to be true.
I confess that I have been internally dealing with this for some time but the actual move is imminent. It was the thing I did not talk about on here. The elephant in the corner.Basically I keep telling him to sit in the corner and shut up. This is all that I am going to say about this for now but I suspect over the next few weeks it will likely come up again in one way or the other.
I confess that my creativity has been dog paddling to try and stay afloat. The emotional stuff has been like rocky waters that I bounce about trying to stay afloat and not get bashed into.
I do wonder if there is some kind of silver lining in all of this. Perhaps my experience will me to craft a wonderfully magnificent manuscript as an Expatriate Poet.
Best to all - Stay safe my friends...