Stories and Starlight

In January, roads and journeys began and came to an end. Namely, I turned eighteen (the end of "childhood") and began Prospective Internship. I also saw some new opportunities for my acting journey. I met a professional actor, we connected, questions and advice were exchanged, and the chance of more acting training in the future was brought up. ( I feel such hope for the future I just know I've got to be on the right path, I thought.) In February, my heart was broken. For someone with no real experience in romantic relationships, I'd been struggling with my feelings for a while. That month, I wrestled with the growing realization that my romantic feelings and my real-life goals and convictions didn't align. That month, reality also slapped me in the face, and it stung. ( I hate this. But at least I know it'll serve as fuel for my poetry,  I sighed.) In March, my to-do list was filled to the seams. I had the unique experience of getting to teach a class about ...

hello . it's been awkward. six hours and thousands of miles but not a word was said to  bridge the gap, only a sprinkling of laughter: crumbly plastery filling,  forced lightness, because we can't seem to accept the darkness:  that cramped pretense we put up instead, a poor protection for what should be spoken, but hangs out to dry on the fine line of silence,  waiting, perhaps, for when we turn and (actually) say  hello. it's been tiring. three years and thousands of conversations but hardly a word was said to  bridge the gap, only a sprinkling of outings: flimsy sugary filling, like melting ice cream, because we can't seem to have a full meal, that duty called "quality time" by convention ,  hiding the longing for something substantial but giving in to habit just one more time, waiting, perhaps, for when we try to (really) say hello. it's been difficult. one childhood and thousands of memories but not a word I've said to bridge the gap, only a scrapb...

via

beneath that crown of tangerine-tipped ruffles, of saffron borders gently spreading is a stem-stalk cluster, a Seussical forest of tangled, mottled leaves bent over one another. packed in for breath. sprouting from browning trunks that lighten as they lengthen stretching                  r e a c h ing                                       s t r a i n i n g for the bursts of color above. undersides of an upside-down umbrella reversed romantic love; a matchmaker's mix-up. what once wrapped my wrist at a dance, what once you tossed at your wedding wilts, waiting for when it will be (once more) wrong side down and right side up **** photo & poem: 9.4.2020

"Who I am and who I wanna be cannot connect; why? .... I know I like to preach to always be yourself / but my emotions make me feel like i am someone else Me and pride had made a pact that we don't need no help / which feels like I'm at war inside myself but I forgot the shells  I hold my issue up for all to see, like show and tell / A lot of people know me, but not a lot know me well."  from " WHY " by NF

I. the poem look up...  i see you crying, tired of trying thought the day would be easier than this the light stops shining, night is blinding can't find your way walking with your eyes on the ground so look up you'll never know how much goes on above you look up you'll never know how far you might reach just look up there is so much to wonder at if you only look up 'cause there's so much to wonder at, if you only look up _______________________________________________________________ II. the story  it was an early start to the day, and i was not yet over the "i'm-not-a-morning-person" blues. all of a sudden a family member (who was slightly more awake) called my attention to the ceiling. right there, clear as day, was a rainbow. not a tiny speck of color, but a real beam of visible light. my first reaction was to take a photo of it. my second reaction... "wait, where'd it come from?" somehow, the lig...

_________________________________________________________________________________ "Do something fun." FUN? What's fun? Lately the things I once did simply because I loved them have become almost like work. Simply tasks, little boxes to be checked off. And not that there's anything wrong with checking off the boxes (I love the feeling) but still... Where's the heart? Where's the fire? Where's the passion? Goals and ambitions can only take you so far. You know how the saying goes, all writers have writers' block, all artists have periods of no inspiration. And I know for every burst of inspiration there will be twice as much the need for determination, but all the same... Where's the heart? Where's the fire? Where's the passion? Discipline can only take you so far. I've lived so long in this endless round of to-do lists and deadlines and assignments that it has become my life. That kind of life means you wil...