Monday, April 16, 2012

Poetry Post... Without Poetry!

Many of you might know that I write poetry... a lot of it... and, if you've ever stopped by my apartment, might have noticed my poetry journal either laying out in my room or on the coffee table in the living room, from where I've left it after an afternoon or evening of musing on the balcony with it.  Poetry is so very different from prose for me, but I don't prefer one over the other.  Both serve different purposes for me, and I write whichever one best helps me express whatever I'm feeling.

For a very long time, I didn't share my poetry with anybody except one or two close friends.  Then I started feeling the words getting restless inside my journal.  They were out of my head, but not quite out of me.  It wasn't enough to keep it to myself.  I slowly worked enough confidence up in myself to post a few of my poems on my Tumblr, where I learned how to release them into the great big anonymity of the Internet.  I breathed my poems out into a vast space where the words waited to be found, and people found them.  I don't typically get a lot of responses online, but I do get a few "likes" and the occasional reblog.  There are some poets on Tumblr that get hundreds, but I can't even describe the soaring of my heart and the smile on my face for each small response that I get.  Because not only does my writing get validated, it means that someone else was able to relate to the joy or heartache that I attempted to get across in my words.  Knowing that means the world to me.

I follow a poet on Tumblr who writes some of the most gorgeous, hit-you-in-the-heart, simple poetry.  One day, he did a promotions post, and I was incredibly astonished to see my own url amongst the other poets that he recommended.  Truly, I was shocked and honored beyond words.  For my idol to have read and appreciated my own poetry-- I was humbled and ecstatic at the same time.

I'm not quite sure how to put it, but the fact that my words could ever move someone in the way that I am moved by others' words (still following what I'm trying to say?) sort of means to me that my writing is purposeful.  It has only ever been just for me, to relieve my own heartache or spell out my stress or capture my joy, and I make it a point not to write something on purpose that I think others want to read, to play into what others want.  I would never change my style or voice for something so shallow, to get more likes and reblogs.  To know that my own, plain writing style is being accepted and loved by others, without me having to change... I feel like that's the goal I have been unknowingly working towards since the days of being bullied for being different and refusing to change.  I have always refused to change.  I have always been happy with being me.  It has been difficult, but with this validation, I both feel and see that it has been worth it.

Some of my poems are far too private to leave the confines of my journal.  Some are private, but safe enough to post to Tumblr, where I still feel a sense of anonymity.  I don't know how ready I am to share my personal poetry with those who can put a face to the words.  But I'm so happy that I found the courage to share my poetry on another site, and I hope that with time, I will learn more about my own writing and how to move forward with it.  If you're reading this as I publish it, I hope that you're having a lovely 1 AM, as I am, procrastinating and putting off work that's already been put off for far too long in order to shamelessly, dare I use the word, brag about my meager words that have somehow reached people, when I never thought they would leave the closed pages of my journal.

I am so sorry for how long that sentence was.  Kudos to those who pushed through it.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Quotes of Note

Oh, my darling chickadees, how neglectful I've been.  I've opened up a new post for this blog several times, only to find myself too exhausted to write anything worth reading, only to close the tab and think, "I'll write something later."

Well, it's later, and I still don't feel like I have much to contribute in the ways of wordy wisdom or any insight into my own particular life.  The changes that I've been working on to make myself a better person have kind of been frozen as I focus on simply getting through this semester.  In this struggle, I have to keep reminding myself what I'm actually going to remember and take away from college, and the awkward answer is that it probably won't be the number of messed-up degree plans I filled out, no matter how much trouble they're giving me in this moment.

I've had a very bizarre week.  Not to say it was bad, because I know what bad weeks are like, and this wasn't really one of them.  I just felt very detached from everything, school-wise, and maybe even a little friend-wise, for which I apologize.  When I enter these stressful periods, I turn to my favorite quotes to get me through.  However, I'm very, very picky about the quotes that I live by.  The quote HAS to be relevant to me and my life, and chances are, if it's overused, I'll hate it.  I have to believe it, and it has to be as close to its original form as possible.  And, in typical Erica fashion, the mushier and more romantic or cheesy it is, the more I'll hate it.

For example, there's a famous A.A. Milne (Pooh Bear author!) quote that gets thrown around a lot, and that I absolutely adore, but it's been stretched and tweaked to become a typical girly kind of quote.  If I remember correctly, Christopher Robin tells Pooh: "Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.:  I adore this quote, but only as it was said from Christopher Robin to Pooh.  I've seen it changed to have so many things added (especially, "...and twice as beautiful as you believe.")  I despise changes like that.  If it floats your boat, that's great, but I prefer the original so much more.  It's as it was intended to be said.


Then there's a quote by Marilyn Monroe that I absolutely DESPISE: “I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”  I feel like it's become a classic women-trumping-their-boyfriends kind of quote.  But here's why I dislike it: Yes, I am selfish, impatient, and (very!) insecure.  I do make mistakes.  I can be out of control and hard to handle.  This is true.  But the tone of the quote implies that a man should be accepting of these attitudes and complexes, that he should take them lying down, or he doesn't deserve the woman.  No.  I am all of those bad things, but what kind of a person would I be if I weren't trying to change those bad ways and habits?  If that's the kind of person that I am, and then I tell a man that he doesn't deserve me at my "best"-- I shudder to think what my "best" would be.  I wouldn't deserve ANYONE if I had that sort of attitude.  If she had said something about how that's her worst, but she's trying to be better, then yeah, maybe I could see why so many people like this quote.  But as it is, I have a problem with the attitude that comes across with it.


Then there are quotes that I can appreciate, but do not feel any attachment to.  There's the PoA MOVIE quote (not the books!  I repeat, this quote is NOT in the books!) from Dumbledore: "Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light."  I had to think about this one for a long time, because I can't just read a pretty quote and make it my life motto.  Also, if you know me, you'd know that I would be very hesitant to accept this quote, as it's from Steve Kloves, not good old Jo herself.  I digress-- I had to think for a very long time before I decided that the quote wasn't just nonsense, but more along the lines of explaining how we have to make our own happiness, through our own power, even when we are in the most upsetting of situations.  Good.  That's a good quote.  But it doesn't really apply to me, nor did it make me stop and think about my life, so it would probably never go in a quote book of mine.  But I can see where it would apply to others, and I don't frown at this quote anymore, as I used to.


My goodness, I'm just realizing what a quote elitist I am.  I sincerely apologize if I've smacked down any of your favorite quotes.  If it makes anyone feel any better, my own quote book, where I write down anything that inspires me, is full of cross-outs and notes pasted on top of quotes that I've either outgrown or come to realize that they didn't make sense or were lame.  For example, my absolute FAVORITE quote growing up was by Les Brown: "Shoot for the moon.  Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars."  I mean, I had this plastered on everything around my room, notebooks with it on the cover, written on all sorts of papers and whatnot... and then one day I realized how weird it was.  Shoot for the moon.  Okay, dream big.  Understandable.  Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars.  ...What?  So, even if I dream big and go for it and fail, I'll still be somewhat successful?  No.  I'll have failed and will have learned a very important lesson and will ultimately be a better person for it, but I can't match that parallel with landing among the stars.  Maybe one day I will reread this quote and see the connection with my failure actually being a success of sorts, which would be equivalent to landing among the stars (a success that's different from landing on the moon, but still pretty awesome), but that day has not hit me yet.  My once-favorite quote now bothers me.


Again, I'm sorry if my snooty quote feelings are too hoity-toity.  To compensate, here are some of my favorite quotes (er... make that, CURRENT favorite quotes), and if you dislike any of them, you can call me out on them and explain why! :)


"Love is like a snowmobile racing across the tundra, and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath.  At night, the ice weasels come." --Matt Groening
(KIDDING.  It's funny.  But it doesn't mean anything to me.)


"Not all that glitters is gold; not all who wander are lost." --J.R.R. Tolkein


"Ships in harbor are safe, but that's not what ships are built for." --John Shedd


"No rain, no rainbows."  --commercial


"Absence is to love as wind is to fire.  It extinguishes the small but kindles the great."  --Roger de Bussy Rabutin


"Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made or dark images that you hold about yourself.  They remember your beauty when you feel ugly, your wholeness when you are broken, your innocence when you feel guilty, and your purpose when you are confused." --Alan Cohen


"Giving is not really giving until it hurts." --Mother Theresa  (I'm actually not sure if this is the quote in it's proper form, and that bothers me, but until I can find a reliable source, I'll have to make do with this.)


"You are never alone or helpless.  The force that guides the stars guides you too." --Shrii Shrii Anadamurti


"Never miss an opportunity to make others happy, even if you have to leave them alone in order to do it." --Anonymous


"Be humble, for you are made of earth.  Be noble, for you are made of stars." --Serbian Proverb


"Hold firmly to your beliefs, but never so firmly that you cannot hear reason and accept the fact that you may be wrong." --Anonymous




There are more, of course, but these are the ones I've particularly been feeding off of to get me through this time in my life.  Perhaps at some point I will grow to dislike some of these, too, but until that moment comes, there you have it.  I apologize again for my elitist attitude... but I do challenge everyone to think about your favorite quotes and why you love them, what speaks to you in each quote.  Don't accept something just because it's pretty words (even my words, which aren't very pretty all of the time!).  Quotes are great to live by, but only if you truly understand them and believe what they're saying.



Saturday, February 25, 2012

Making a mountain out of a Moleskine?

A midnight post on a Friday night-- what an exciting social life I lead!  Not that it matters to me in the least, of course.  There are choices of all sorts to be made in life, and a quiet Friday night at the apartment suits me very well this week.

Today's post comes to you courtesy of a quick trip I made to Barnes & Noble the other day.  For the past few weeks, I've been having trouble sleeping, and often find myself at some unmentionable hour of the night (morning?), sheets pushed aside, staring out my window at the silent scenery, taking in the night sky and nearby trees, wondering about the secrets that they and I keep but never speak.  Look, there it is, the whole reason for my trip to B&N: my apparent need to wax lyrical at bizarre hours when I should be sleeping, but my restless mind has taken over instead.  And in order to wax said lyrical properly, to spill out my purple prose without the shame of having to subject another human ear to the insanity within my mind, I need somewhere to write it.

I have my poetry journal, of course, which is my main go-to whenever my thoughts are too much and I don't understand even myself.  Then, I allow for the greatest gift that writing has ever helped me to experience, where I turn my mind off and uncap my pen, and suddenly, words and thoughts and feelings I didn't even know I was having appear on the page, in rhythm and rhyme, and the poem moves faster than I can even begin to conjure up words to match it, but I don't have to worry about that, because it writes itself, and I'm relieved of my worries.  But that only happens occasionally.  When I have to force poems out, it's not nearly as much fun, and the poetry is never as good, and my nighttime musings call mostly for prose.

I have my dear OGTAD, always at hand, always at my nightstand, for me to comment on the good things that happened during the day before I try to convince my restless mind to sleep (and inevitably wake up needing somewhere to write).  As OGTAD is for what happened during the day, it is of little use to someone needing a place to store the stream of consciousness produced by the night.

I used to keep a journal, a regular journal, but it was filled with so much negativity and pages upon pages of me beating so many dead horses with so many sticks (hence the birth of OGTAD), it just doesn't seem like the appropriate place for a new way of writing-- not journaling, but writing.

So after a few nights of writing on scraps of paper found around my room, or worse, of thinking the thoughts but letting them slip away from me, somehow escaping out my closed window and floating off into the night, never to be thought of again, never captured on paper, I went to B&N.  I bought 3 Moleskine notebooks.  I've never used Moleskine before, but they intrigue me because they are so plain. In my youth (how pretentious of me, referring to my youth though I am but 21 pitiful years old, and yet there seems to be no other word to describe myself before my current journey), I always searched for the "perfect" journal, the prettiest, the one with the magnetic snap, the one with the fanciest cover, the one with the beadings, etc., etc.  A particular journal that comes to mind was that of red leather, a comforting smell, but soon filled with negativity, just like all the others.  These Moleskine notebooks drew me in because they were not journals, they were not decorated, they were not... desperate.

And there is enough subject matter on this topic for an entirely separate post, but to condense it-- I'm tired of journaling.  This blog is journal enough for me, but far too public for every private thought, and certainly too available for my midnight musings.  While I enjoy this type of writing, I know in my heart of hearts, and have known since a very young age, that I have a story to tell-- a book to write, if I may.  It frustrates me to not know what this story is or how to tell it yet, and I know I have a whole life ahead of me to figure it out, but I realized something the other day.

The perfect idea and everything that goes with it is not going to walk up to me and introduce itself.  Should I be so lucky to have that happen, consider this entry an ironic "Murphy's law" sort of post, but to be that lucky!  I almost laugh at how many years I spent with this idea in the back of my mind, that it will just "come to me", in so many words.  I have to keep writing.  I have to write, write, write.  Journaling is fine and dandy, but it's not the kind of writing I want to do.  I want to discover more of my own personal style, my own voice, play more with words for my own sake, and write it all down.  I want to capture the things that I think at night and figure out what I meant by them in the morning, for the morning always sheds a different light on things that we thought we understood by the light of the moon.  I'm so inspired by the styles of Laurie Halse Anderson and, as I read The Book Thief, Markus Zusak-- so very inspired, so very afraid to be siphoning off their words and ways when I have my own to pour out.  I just need to figure out what that exactly is, and I must write in order to do it.

So, three Moleskine notebooks.  Is this too much to hope for, to fill these books by the end of... the semester?  The year?  This entry in itself is far longer than I was expecting, but I am quite wordy, when I  go back and reread my things.  I have no set guidelines for these notebooks except to write.  I wonder if I have put these notebooks on a pedestal, perhaps seated myself along there with them, and feel quite silly about it all.  But when it comes down to the very core of my own being, I find words there that want to be brought to life, and it's time that I stopped hoping they'll find their way out on their own, and start writing them somewhere so that they can live.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Love for Valentine's Day

We're two days away from one of what I personally think is the most controversial days of the year-- Valentine's Day.  I've heard many different versions (many Christian related) as to the origins of Valentine's Day, including the idea that V-Day (forgive my shorthand) originally started with no relevance to the romantic love now associated with it.  And we've all heard countless times how guys are supposed to hate V-Day, how tricky it can be to get "just the right gift," what a dangerous day it can be for couples early in their relationship, etc.  We've all heard the laments of the "forever alone" people not celebrating the day with anyone.  We've heard the long-married couples declaring that they don't need to give each other a gift to "prove their love on a certain day."  And so on.

People will be all over facebook on V-Day, with pictures of what their significant other got them (...because it's a competition?) and those not in a relationship declaring how much they hate this stupid day, and others proudly saying that they love their SO all the time, not just today.

Given what I've heard in the meager 21 years of my life, there's not a lot of love for Valentine's Day.

However.

I adore Valentine's Day.

I just try to look at it in a different way.  Like many people have commented, the typical day has become far too commercialized for my taste, with way too much pressure to get things "right."  But that's not why I like it.  As far as the three V-Days that I've celebrated with my boyfriend, they haven't exactly been perfect.  We've tried really hard to make them awesome, but after last year resulted in an argument that was more my fault than anything, I came to the conclusion that I suck at V-Day.  I really do.  That's when I realized I was approaching it from entirely the wrong angle and needed to regroup my thoughts about it and try a different technique when celebrating.

I don't think V-Day needs to be about the jewelry or the craziness anymore, in a sense.  I don't think it's necessary to have those elements for the perfect V-Day.  BUT!  If that's how you choose to celebrate it, then I think it's fine.  I really appreciate V-Day as the thought of a day that we set aside to show our appreciation for those in our lives that we love and cherish.  I've heard my parents say over the years that they don't need to be told by a day on the calendar that they need to show how much they love each other, but I kind of like the idea.

Every one of us has a day that we use to celebrate our own natural instincts telling us to swim out of our mothers' birth canals... and we get presents for it year after year.  We have days that we dedicate to only our mothers, to only our fathers, to celebrate that the earth made an entire journey around the sun without blowing up, to celebrate all sorts of things that we don't question nearly as much as we do the day that we're supposed to show love for each other, February 14th.  Of course, it's been over-commercialized and over-dramafied (new word!) and so on and so forth, but what hasn't?

I think it's great if couples want to give each other a gift to celebrate their love.  And it doesn't have to be just couples.  It can be friends, family members, the pizza guy-- anyone.  Show someone some appreciation.  I believe that this SHOULD be going on every day of the year, but that would be exhausting.  So why not use V-Day as a special day for that?

I love roses any day of the year, but I always ask for some for V-Day.  They're beautiful, I'm not allergic to them, and when my boyfriend brings them to me, I'm filled with joy at receiving something special from him.  If you're truly anti V-Day, what makes this different than receiving something on any other day of the year?

I'm actually surprised at myself, that I'm going to post this.  My skills at rhetoric are quite rusty, and re-reading this, I'm guessing that not a lot of people will agree with me.  I've left quite a few holes in my own argument and don't have the necessary tactics to bring my thoughts from my head to my words at this moment, for which I apologize.  I'm surprised that I'm not going to delete this in fear of going against what the majority of people, of my friends, think.  But I often forget that my opinion is just as valuable as everyone else's, and that I shouldn't have to be afraid of accidentally thinking something else (gasp!).

I just don't think that it's too bad of an idea to have a day where we acknowledge how much we appreciate the people in our lives, everyone, all at once, a whole ton of love.  In a perfect world, we shouldn't necessarily NEED a day for this, but this world isn't perfect.  I really like the most basic concept of Valentine's Day: love.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Half a Year of OGTAD

I seriously cannot think of a more eloquent title for this post, amusingly enough.  OGTAD is just such an awkward acronym, but it's funny to me.  I digress--

Today marks exactly six months since my friend Jessica and I took on the task of recording one good thing about each day in our Good Things-specified journals for a year.  I can't speak for Jessica, but I can wholeheartedly say that for myself, just these past six months have truly changed how I look at my days.

The rules are fairly straightforward.  At the end of each day, I take out my One Good Thing a Day journal and document one good thing about that day (repetitive writing, I know).  The entries are usually about a short paragraph each, two to a page, a full page if it's been a particularly important or special day that requires more of an explanation.  I am NOT allowed to discuss any bad things that happened during my day.  The closest I allow myself to mention any negativity comes in the form of, "Today was not the best/not what I expected/something similar, BUT...." and then I focus only on something good.

Looking back at the entries, one would think that I've had nothing but six months full of beautiful, glorious days of ultimate perfection.  Naturally, this is not the case.  I still have bad days.  I still remember the negativities and mistakes and mess ups and failures.  In fact, yesterday was a pretty sucky day in and of itself, and I'm not up to my usual standard of cheeriness today, either.  But this is where OGTAD makes such a difference for me.

I'm a big fan of journaling (...hence this blog), but when I go back and reread old journal entries, they're usually miserable.  I whine and beat dead horses with multiple sticks and can't seem to get over the bad things that happen during the week, with an occasional happy entry here and there.  Rereading my old journals means entering a world where it seems I was nothing but upset.  And that's not true.  Doing OGTAD means that when I look back at those entries, I only remember the good things about the days, and there is always something good to remember about each day.  Sometimes it's simple and stupid-- I had a really good sandwich at lunch, someone complimented me on my shoes, I had a rare good hair day-- but remembering a compliment on my shoes is far better than remembering that I failed a quiz or something that day.  If I'm going to remember anything about what I do, I'd so much rather remember the good over the bad.

This exercise is helping me learn to change, which is the ultimate goal for me.  In the beginning of OGTAD, it took a while for me to learn not to harp on the bad things.  Setting the rule for myself that I wasn't even allowed to mention any specific bad things that happened was difficult for me, so much more difficult than I would have imagined.  Of the optimist/pessimist viewing of life, I like to consider myself a realist that encourages others towards optimism but never quite gets there for my own point of view.  OGTAD is teaching me to not really be an optimist so much as to learn to recognize the positive blessings in my life, embrace them, be grateful, and look at the world through this new set of eyes.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

"I Am Change."

Qu'est-ce qui c'est, là, two posts in such a short amount of time?  Honestly, if I had the time, energy, and mental capacity, I would update every day, perhaps multiple times a day, but I rarely have all three of those things at once, and would also like to be capable of showing some sort of restraint once in a while.

Regardless, today's blog title comes from something I saw on my godmother's coffee mug.  For Christmas, I got her this lovely white coffee mug that came with a pack of dish-washer durable, changeable, ransom-note looking sticky letters.  The concept behind the mug is to spell out different messages for yourself on your mug, using the letters which can be washed and saved and replaced as often as you like.  Suggestions on the mug's box were silly things like COFFEE NOW or AM I AWAKE? and the like.  I added a couple of Bible verses and inspirational quotes, because that's more my nannie's style.

When I was at her house today, I noticed it drying by the sink and asked if I could look at it.  She had used the letters to spell out "TRUST" on one side, and "I AM CHANGE" on the other.  Interestingly (ironically?), she commented that it's her favorite mug, and she feels no need to change the message to anything else.  No need to change the message stating that she is change.

I suppose that, in its stability, it reminds her what she is capable of in terms of change, but only by the fact that it is one thing that will not do so.  Perhaps I'm reading too much into it.  I'm typing this all with a half-smile on my face, aware of how silly and presumptuous I probably sound.  My nannie is an immense source of inspiration to me and a woman whom I truly respect, admire, and regard with a sense of incredulous awe.  Her own journey casts a thought-provoking light on mine, and if she is change, than I can aspire to that too.  I am change, I am change, I am change.

I am change.

If that statement stays solidly, rigidly, unflinchingly unchanging enough in my mind, then perhaps it will become true in time.  I am change.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Greeting 2012 a little late...

Oops!  Hello there, new year.  I meant to greet you in an official post about 19 days ago... so sorry!

I wanted to write about resolutions, and why I don't do resolutions, and goals, and why I prefer goals, and my little nitpicky issues with goals/resolutions/bettering yourself, but honestly, I'm still getting used to the idea that I write in a blog that not very many people read, and I'm still trying to figure out the fine line between writing everything on my mind, and being somewhat aware of what people actually want to read.

That was a long sentence; I apologize.

Anyway, it's now 2012, and I'm looking at 11 more months of school before I graduate from college.  Huzzah!  After 2012, I can finally open that long-sought after door that leads to the next chapter of my life-- the chapter I've been waiting for so long for, the chapter I've been dreaming about for years.

It makes it very difficult to live in the moment and focus on the blessings and gifts that I have in front of me right now.

Perhaps this is a little premature, but I've found college to be a journey so much bigger and better than I ever expected.  I think most thoughts on this subject occur right before one is about to graduate and leave the experience behind, and, like I said, I'm looking at 11 more months of it, but this is born more of a partial need to convince myself that I can make it through another 11 months and stay smiling.  When I entered college as a terrified freshman, my singular thought was to just get through it.  I won't go into the details of what I had on my mind, but let's leave it at that I had no desire to even try to make friends.  I simply didn't want to.

I've had my ups and downs with the whole college ordeal, and I was pleasantly surprised when, near the end of last semester, I realized that I really enjoyed the ups.  As devastating as some of the things that have happened, I came to understand what my mother meant when she told me that these were supposed to be the best four years of my life (and how happy I was to have whittled it down to three and a half).

Of course I had friends in high school, but that was to be expected.  I was with the same people for five straight years, taking the same classes, seeing the same faces 5 days of week, sometimes 6.  I did not expect to find the same level of support and love from people in college-- especially from guys.  I've been astounded by the people that have come into my life in the past two and a half years, amazed by the bonds that have been formed and friendships that have been founded.

It's of my friends that I make myself think when I find myself trying to push some sort of fast-forward button on my college journey.  The idea of leaving the girls at my high school when we graduated was utterly depressing even from the first day of my senior year, and I didn't expect to fear that feeling again during my senior year of college.  (ULink says I'm a senior, so it must be so!)

I'm so appreciative of the friends that have, knowingly or not, shown me that there is more to life and more to me than what I thought.  I don't want to leave them when I graduate in December.  At times, it seems like that's so far away, and then I think of my friends, and realize I don't have much time left.  Relativity, and all that.  2012, you're going to be insane, I know.  Insanely trying, insanely stressful, insanely exhilarating, insanely wonderful.  My beloved TEC retreats have taught me to participate, not anticipate.  So here I am, doing my best to live in the moment, and greeting not 2012 as a whole, but as a series of 366 incredible new days to live out to their fullest.