Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Form.

When it comes to the poetry I write, I am a slave to my form. It's all rhyme and rhythm, and I feel in a way that the writing should be measured by the meaning one can drive into a skeleton of a poem. This isn't to say that I have a form in mind when I start writing, but as I write I find it; for instance a rhyme scheme and number of syllables per line. Even my streams-of-consciousness and free-verse-type-poems follow this pattern, and the only irregular poems I've written are ones that I really enjoy but were written very angrily and not easily recreated.

This being said, I am starting to think that my poems are too similar to one another, at least in form if not in topic, and although I like them I would like to improve. So could improvement happen by trying to remove or pay less attention to some of the form? I guess we will see.

Monday, November 15, 2010

005.

I wonder when exactly people stopped entertaining themselves and were more content to sit and be entertained by other things. More importantly, I wonder how. Mostly, though, I am just thoroughly disappointed with the way I spend my time and am in some way vowing to be a better human being (via blog, ironically enough.)

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Bonfire sunrises.

Bonfires are some of my favorite things, and the ones that last all night are even higher on my favorites list. I enjoy stars, and I enjoy sky, and most of all I enjoy the dawn. The moment just before you see the sun, when you can see that glow so similar to an afterglow but just the opposite, feels like it builds for so much longer at sunrise than its dusky evening counterpart.

Morning has a certain tension that night lacks, suggesting the unknown. From there, the chill can only go away, but at night it settles. Sunsets might feature colors that are nearly always beautiful, but they're often no more than pleasant endings to bitter days. Even though the aesthetics of sunrises are kind of hit-or-miss, I haven't seen one without that feeling of promise.

I think we all need more sunrises.  

Saturday, November 6, 2010

My problem with beverages.

Periodically, I will realize that the majority of what I'm drinking is only one type of beverage. When I was running cross country, I drank a ton of Gatorade. During the summer I more or less only drink water. Last winter I drank mostly tea, due partly to Michigan chill and partly to my affinity for hot beverages which involve boiling water and pretty containers for preparation. There have even been times when I catch myself drinking nothing but milk, and all of those options are pretty harmless and perhaps even beneficial.

About a month ago I found myself drinking only coffee, which has happened before but not quite to this extent. I would have some before school or work, more at school or work, and accompanying lunch or dinner or whatever meal happened to be next. It was also my main means of social interaction. I am nearly  always willing to meet friends for coffee. I will even meet people who are not friends for coffee. It was after a day like this when I finished off an entire pot of coffee by myself while studying in the evening that I decided I should probably adjust my intake.

I did very well until this week, and actually even did well this week until this morning, when my awesome boyfriend who lives an hour away met me in our hometown and took me to the ineffable Roxy Cafe for breakfast. I, of course, ordered coffee for my beverage and then proceeded to allow the coffee girls to fill up my mug each time they offered.

I justified a cup of gas station coffee on the ride back due to the obscene hour during which I'd be driving home, and then made some when I got here. I am currently enjoying one perfect cup of coffee with just the right amount of cream and zero sugar, which is how I prefer my coffee on any given day. Again, I find that I should adjust my intake.

Enjoy my MS Paint representation of coffee drinkers:
I worry that I am a slave to coffee, and therefore a masochist because I love coffee. It has some beauty beyond its its lovely taste due to the connection it establishes between people, but the way that everyone assumes that everyone else drinks and/or needs coffee does kind of put me off. Yet I enjoy it too much to actually give it up or take any sort of stand against those who refer to it as "my coffee," or "your coffee (i.e. "Don't talk to me. I haven't had my coffee yet," or "How would you like your coffee?" when coffee has not even been ordered.). 

This being said, I suppose we should all be grateful that I'm not yet 21 and able to fall into phases of only drinking alcohol.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

The Day upon which my Dress Became a Shirt.

Today was one of those days that I didn't mind spending on my own. It was cold and lovely, and of course is far from done, but I'm generalizing since I'm writing a blog post before the end of the day.

One of my favorite people spent the night at my apartment, and this morning after we ate breakfast and parted ways (she goes to another school), I figured that it would be a good day. I can feel winter coming, which makes sense since it's November in Michigan, and which I enjoy because I look forward to winter all year. Despite my knowledge of the seasons, I decided that I would wear a dress. After all, it has long sleeves, so of course it's warm enough for wear in November, right? [Wrong.]

There was frost on my car and since I never get up and out early enough to warm up a vehicle, I had to combat those icy opaque designs with windshield-washer-fluid and rolling all of my windows down. My drive to school was very brisk. However, I got rockstar parking in the first row of parking spaces. Despite the knowledge that I had many garments warmer than my dress in my trunk and despite my knowledge of the current temperature further illustrated by my drive, I figured I'd be fine in the past-fall-but-certainly-not-winter weather. Life goes on, as did my day.

I got 100% on my analysis of some Spanish poetry (written in Spanish), turned in an excellent physics report, read some Steinbeck and had lunch with a friend (yay friends!) and then I went to my car to get my computer. I foolishly hoped that perhaps the sun had come out, or maybe it had grown warmer, or even that I had suddenly come into my own with some newfound Northern traits which would enable me to withstand the cold, but alas.

None of these had taken place.

Once at the car, I fished some jeans out of my trunk, got in the passenger side and proceeded to put them on. During this brief process, the boy who drove the SUV parked next to me reached his vehicle, sent me an odd look, got in, drove away, AND another boy driving a red station wagon promptly took his spot, sent me another odd glance, and then went to class. I don't change that slowly. I think this all must have happened within three minutes.

Thus my sweater-dress became a shirt, and more people have seen me change than I'm comfortable with.