Facing Forward

How can I possibly
string together the words
to describe each moment
perfectly?

How can I relay to you
the meaning of each meeting,
when I can't get the words
out of my throat?

How can I ever say goodbye,
if I can't explain the hellos?

I wrote this poem three years ago, almost to the day. I didn't realize then how much the words would mean to me in the future. I've been trying lately not to make excuses, to live my life without apologizing for who I am. And yet, I still find myself struggling to explain all of my hellos, but I'm trying. 

I promise I didn't lie to you.

So, it's been four months since my last post... a few days more than that actually. I promise I didn't lie to you, I really am writing again. I've found it to be a little difficult to have the mental energy necessary to sit down and actually work on my writing after a long day of work. I still don't have a defined writing space in my beautifully cozy and quaint apartment. A defined space would be a constant reminder that I shouldn't be ignoring my writing. With a defined space, a desk, a small table, I would have something staring at me longingly from the corner, begging me to feed it with my time and mental capacity. 

Until then, though, I suppose working in coffee shops with friends will be a good stand in. It's a throwback to college that is strangely comforting, and overwhelming all at the same time. 

'I'm twenty-five, should I be sitting in this coffee shop pretending to be a serious writer? Pretending, pssh. I am a serious writer...I'm just a para during the day. I'm practically superman. By day a lowly para an a public school, by night super-writer! Wow, I'm lame. Am I cool enough to be sitting here? I don't have a MacBook, hopefully my iPad will suffice. There, now I fit in. Do I want to fit in? Probably not. No, I didn't bike here, did you? Oh you did, huh? And your hair still looks that good? Well la-ti-da, I drove, and I parked in a garage, for shame!'

Just a few of the thoughts constantly nagging at me as I sit here trying to focus my mind on writing, only to have it wander to people watching and Facebook instead. It's a hard knock life, and I don't even get to break out in song randomly. 

Really though, I'm in a good place. I am so grateful for where I am in life. I love my tiny apartment, mostly because of the people I share the house with. I love the hectic chaos that sometimes ensues in a community built to help those around us. I have friends who care about my mental health as much as they care about my physical health, and who feed me sometimes just because I happen to be in their apartment at dinner time. 

In my writing world I'm currently working on a long short for a contest, which I will be putting on facebook (hopefully) soon with a link for you to download.  It is going along slowly, but I'm hoping to devote a chunk of time to it this week so I can finish it ahead of schedule... we'll see. 

If you're still reading, know that I appreciate you and I apologize...I'm officially ranting now. Have a fantastic week.  

So, here's the story...

It's 2015, 11 days in. So far it's been a whirlwind; it hardly feels like 2014 is over. Ususally at this time of year I've already given up on my resolutions (or goals) for the year. Unusually, I didn't even decide to make any until this week. One of those goals is to write more, to get back to this huge part of me that has been severely neglected for the past year. I started today, took intentional time to work on a story that's been nagging me, and it felt good. I don't want to share it with you now, and maybe I never will. But the beauty of it is this: I'm writing again. Either way, whether I share that particular story or I don't, I will be sharing some new stuff with you soon. I hope your first 11 days of the new year have been fabulous, and I hope the next 11 are too (and the 11 after that, and so on).