December 7, 2008

Well, I'm sitting here sipping some tea as I write this, and I must say, I'm content, but ... not apprehensive, what's the word?

Trepid? No. Anxious? Eager? Maybe, but something more peaceful and at ease than those.

I recently had a friend tell me she was fascinated with my eyes. When I asked why, she said:

"You look so peaceful and calm, but at the same time distant, both happy and sad at once. It's almost like you're lost, but at peace with where you are anyway."

She went on to say that she believed I was the kind of person that could flourish no matter where I ended up or what I ended up doing. And that was encouraging, really. But I got to thinking about it, and it's appropriate.

I'm still the same old me, but I have done a lot of changing, too. Mostly for the better. My arms and legs have gotten bigger, I've been working out. I now possess sufficient strength to lift a refrigerator over my head, and it feels good, but not in a haughty way. I've also been working my mind, trying to keep it sharp, because a powerful body is cabbage without a mind that can fully harness its potential. And indeed, the only strength that is going to matter once I've left this world is the strength of my mind and heart.

I've become more accepting of things beyond my control, but as my power and intelligence have increased, I've been able to control more of my environment, does that make sense? While my peace of mind has increased, my helplessness has actually decreased, and that feels good too.

Now, when people make me angry, instead of blowing up like I once would have done, I know how to turn their faucet off fast, and put them in their place without raising my voice or my fist. Things don't bother me like they used to. I'm twenty-three now, but it really is just a number. I feel as good as a teen, as wise as someone over forty, and as ugly as someone in their hundreds!

I've lost contact with all but a couple of my clique from High School, but that doesn't bother me so much now either. We're all doing our own thing, and if we meet up again in the future, so be it. If not... so be it.

I've drug this out long enough. I suppose I should close by saying that I am optimistic about the future. Maybe not the future of the world, but about my future, because no matter what happens, I will give my personal best until I take my last breath.

What Poetry Isn't

Before you write something and submit it as poetry, do this:

1. Read the poem below
2. Read your own work
3. Ask yourself: Do you honestly believe your stuff is in the same league?

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang,
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Sonnet 73
William Shakespeare

It’s that special time of year when everyone puts up their Christmas lights. Whether it be rain or shine or power shortage or recession, dammit those lights are going up. And they seem to be going up earlier and earlier every year. I found a house with the lights up and on before Thanksgiving. And it is absolutely amazing to see just how many lights and other decorations a household is willing to tolerate.

They end up looking really stupid in the daytime.

But I found something that made me smile today. It was early and I was out. I saw houses and their Christmas lights. It was dark enough to see that the lights were on but too bright for them to look anything but stupid. And few people had turned them off. It was just too early. So I watched as the morning got brighter and all the lights faded in my eyes.