Thursday, June 2, 2011

Getting in the mood (...not like that! Get your mind outta the gutter, ya perv.)

My goal is to submit something at least once a month.  I am well aware that this is not the goal of an over achiever.  Right now, this goal and I are only pen pals.  I am thinking of arranging for a phone call to talk with this goal.  (Honestly, I am not even close to meeting this goal for June.)  Not to say that I haven't revised and tweaked some older poems, but definitely nothing new.  Apparently I have hit the "we've been married for a while and I would just rather wear yoga pants and a ponytail" phase with my clever turns of words, instead of the "oh heavens, so dreamy, swoon worthy palpitations will ensue" phase.  My relationship with new poems has hit a dry spell these past few days. 

Getting in "the mood" is my problem.  It is a bit harder than I remember.  In college I could just sit in the hallway between classes and write unfiltered and unawares.  I could slip into the zone at a coffee shop after my last class and before my bar tending shift.  Even during lectures I could take a minute and write whatever flights of whimsy popped into my head because I was writing in a notebook anyway (never mind that it was a notebook full of art history or astronomy facts).  My margins were full of nonsensical fits and starts.  My creativity levels were epic, writing was my focus, and I. WAS. AWESOME.  Now, I am awake at O-dark-thirty to get my family up and ready for work/school, then I go to the work place, then dinner, and then daily recaps, bath time, and....and....and...etc.  (Short pause here for pity party.)

10pm finally rolls around and I'm just not in the mood.  I suppose I could pull out all of the stops:  make some hot tea with honey, dim the lights, play a few selections from my library of inspirational/moving songs (Fool in the Rain by Led Zeppelin, Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd, Wonderwall by Oasis, and so on...) and think of all of the things I wish I would have remembered to write down while I was sitting in that godforsaken meeting thinking about my microwaveable lunch! Dammit, and damn you Hot Pockets.

One thing is for certain.  I sure as shit ain't waking up any earlier to get some poems down.  Looks like 10pm is the new writing hour...

1 comment: