someone I knew

I used to write poetry. Blank verse, stream-of-consciousness types of things.

This may be a little obvious, given the existence of this blank verse, stream-of-consciousness poetry blog.

But the emphasis here was on "used to." I used to write poetry.

Throughout my lifetime, there are a lot of things and a lot of people I used to be. I used to be a tomboy and hate clothing and want nothing more than to mock sword-fight with boys four years younger than me all day. I used to refuse to wear the color pink. I used to hide in my room and sing, "No Good Deed," (of Wicked fame) when I was upset at my mother or at life.
And then I used to be a college student. I was actually not a very good college student, where I went. I almost got kicked out a couple of times. I used to be in love.
Now, I have a job in my field that I love. I have some drama in my romantic life that I wish would go away. (The drama. NOT the romance. The drama needs to go away to make room for the romance, actually.) And I have a life of my own, that I have created for myself and am working toward. that's pretty great.

but I wonder, in another year or two or three, who I will say that I "used to be"?

Wow.

i don't think
i ever could have expected this
or even imagined it
in my craziest thoughts.

Who knew?

I guess I'm a little surprised that I kind of like this.

Eighty

I just wish I knew
that everything
was going
to work out
okay.

Update

I practiced
the past two days
sat there
and pounded the keys
and sang
because when you sing and you play
Scan through the score and put fingers on keys and you play
everything else can go away

I know I blushed
when talented people
walked by
er, namely one, anyway

but I played and sang anyway
from the comfort of a closet
that pretends devoidation
(which isn't a word, but I think it sounds nice and has a meaning
the noun form of "devoid"
a state or being completely lacking in anything else)
of sound.


~

That wasn't a poem. Not really. It didn't turn out like a poem, just like some funny sentences I broke up in pretty places and pronounced poetic of a sort. I need to write again, every day. But I did practice today and yesterday. Two days in a row, and isn't it twenty-one to form a habit? I worked out today, and I'd like to go tomorrow morning, or definitely tomorrow sometime at least. I'd like to learn to be disciplined. And I'd like to learn to love and enjoy God, others, and life. I prayed that I would last night, and again this morning and tonight during chapel.

It's raining outside. Again.

This year is turning out better than I expected it to turn out, so far. But I want to grow closer to God, and be more disciplined, and work out my show transportation. Prayer requests. Like fireflies flitting up through the night air into the sky.

Just because I might yell at God, "Aren't you there? Don't you care?" doesn't mean he isn't and doesn't, or isn't and hasn't.

Well. Hasn't this been a nice, random conglomeration of thoughts. Also too, I feel like using the phrase "thought puppets," even though my brain just put those two words together randomly, and I have no idea how they could go together or what such a phrase would mean.

Discipline and disciple seem like related words. Two things on which I need to work.

Thursday

Tears come more frequently lately. I don't write enough anymore. I'm kind of stressed about life, and I don't know how to control anything, or what to do about anything at all.

I'm very tired in several ways... more emotionally than anything? I did not intend to start the semester that way. I don't know what to do.

I wanted to write a poem, but I don't think it will come tonight.

Become

maybe
i've got to become comfortable
with not knowing
what to do