Thursday Confession

Yes, I missed Confession Tuesday. 

I will also confess that I have blown off writing in general this week for the following reasons:

a. tired
b. feeling under the weather
c. my stressors like rubber bands have been stressed to the point they no longer retract to their normal size.
d. my creativity has left he building
e. when what I write today sounds like yesterday and he day before that, something is amiss and needs a break.
f. I'm not sure, but I may not even care.

Nothing New

"Most of my life was spent not understanding, and I can assure you it was not easy."  ~ Rilke

Superbowl Sunday and I have no desire to watch this years game. The puppy bowl is no alternative because once you've seen it - you've see all there is - ad nauseum.  What I could go for is simply a special feed of the Super Bowl commercials back-to back. 

Yes, I sound a little cranky.  I'm cranky for a number of reasons of which one is the fact that for the third time since Thanksgiving, I'm sick. Three times in three months!  Who is responsable for inflicting these germs upon me? I'm ready to turn my body over the Dr. House knowing full well he'll make me sincker before I get better... but then I will have the answer.  Calling Dr. House!  Calling Dr. House!

"Patients sometimes get better. You have no idea why, but unless you give a reason they won't pay you. Anybody notice if there's a full moon? ... let's rule out the lunar god and go from there." [citation]

I'm not a person who does sick well (in case you haven't noticed) and my family knows that once I get down, it means really not feeling well because I'm the kind of person who fights it. All the time the body signs are screaming "your sick," my matra is the repeat, "you are not sick, you are not getting sick, you will not be sick..."  I suppose you could argue that there is a degree of deleriam associated with my view of the surrounding facts. 

So here I am, tired of lying around this weekend - caughing till my chest and head are sore. Feeling closed in.  Knowing that what I want to do is throw the windows open and let some air (albeit cold) throughout the house.  I want to do something besides look at the ceiling from the bed and I certainly don't waqnt to watch the Super Bowl OR the pupy bowl tape loop - both of which make my stomach turn. Yes, I know the puppies can be cute. but it isn't long before it's like reading principally the same poem written by six different people. There is nothing new. 

Confession Tusday - The Blonde Edition

It’s been one week since my last confession and I’m in a rush so let’s get to the confessional.

Dear Reader,

Yesterday, during the morning drive, I stopped at Quick Trip for a Diet Coke. My daughter, Shannon was with me because her car was being serviced. She ran inside with me and was getting a coffee (I take not responsibility for her taste in coffee) and I confessed to her that, “I had a Starbucks’ Blonde over the weekend.”  Shannon looked a little puzzled and said, “I’m not sure I’m following you.”  Realizing the duality of meaning I quickly acknowledged that I had not tried the blonde barista but rather their new light roast coffee. I suddenly realized this could have been confusing to Shannon since I normally enjoy my coffee to be a rich dark roast variety.  She has actually been so busy of late she knew nothing of the new Starbucks blend.  Actually for a dark roast kind of guy I found the new blend very palatable. I think I would consider buying it in whole bean to make at home since I usually make everything espresso strength at home anyway.

As you can likely tell if you read my earlier Journal Bits post that I’m fighting with a bunch of creative dead weight. I confess this has me in a bit of a funk and it’s been going on for several weeks now. It has started to affect my mood on a much broader level then just as it relates to my writing. In fact it has me so upset that I have tended to write less the past few days then trying to push though it by writing on.  I can’t seem to allow myself to write crap and yet I confess that I know I should just keep on working through it.  I write for twenty minutes and look at it and throw my hands in the air and pitch my journal off to the side or if I’m on the laptop just stop and fold up in frustration.

Before I get any more frustrated I’m going to call it quits on this confession.

Journal Bits

Journal Entry for Tuesday, January 31, 2012:  The ability to be receptive to some broader interpretations of even the most common events and things around me seems to have died and I’m lugging this dead body around inside of me.  I don’t know if it succumbed to some disease, died from lack of nutrition or just plain apathy— all I know is it is like dragging around dead weight that has not an ounce of creative spark alive within it.

Saturday Morning Check-in

Here I am, Saturday morning a black coffie on the right and a Diet Coke chaser awaiting on the left. It's been a week and then some all crammed into the past six days.


I've not selpt well, especially the past two nights - but not really at all that well any of the rest of the week.  Busy at work, and brought work home two nights.  Burned 5 hours of vacation time on Friday simply because I was at my max and there was really nothing relaxing about those hours.  As I watch two dogs curled up on my bed I think wow - this human stuff is exhausting.  But alas, they are about to be disturbed as I need to strip the bed clothing and wash it. They are not gonna like this!

Made a quick run to the store earlier and while I was out grabbed a glass of Starbucks Blonde. It's the first I've tried it and considering I am really into dark roast it was risk trying it but I wanted to see what it was like. It was not bad and I could see myself trying it again, especially since I almost always make my coffee at home espresso strength. 

I've been wanting to set down and do an arount the Internet look at some interesting things in the poetry and writing department that I've run across this week. Maybe you've alrady seen many of them but if not these are things worth reading.

• Grant Proposals - Some Random Thoughts - Hopefully Helpful by Susan Rich
• Finalist for T.S. Eliot Prize  by Sarah M. Wells
• It's Like Facebook For The Art World  by Read Write Web
• Poetry Fights Back Boston Review
• Not Wordless Wednesday – mission statement musings…  Being Poetry

Sunday Rumpus Fiction: Ten Reasons Not to Sleep with a Poet

If you want a good laugh check out - Sunday Rumpus Fiction: Ten Reasons Not to Sleep with a Poet by Stacy Berlein

I think my favorites are Numbers 4 and 8.  What a crackup!

Creativity is...

"Creativity is not the finding of a thing but the making something out of it after it is found." – James Russell Lowell