Monday, January 30, 2012

Yeah - totally missed the mark on that one.

So, I have joined my office's "100 Days of Wellness" team.  We are supposed to compete with other teams by logging our daily activity minutes.  We really do this in hopes of winning fantastic prizes, and perhaps maybe, we'll develop a habit of exercising.  I decided that I would do a combination of walking and yoga/stretching because a) I sure as shit am not running unless there is a slobbering, foaming, and clearly rabid dog chasing after me, and b) I thought the yoga/stretching would also give me the opportunity to clear out the noise in my head for a bit.  Maybe if I could clear out some of the debris, I would have more room for creative images and ideas.  HA!  Yeah, it absolutely doesn't happen that way for me.  In terms of calm and quiet yoga, that is.  I can walk just fine, thank you very much.

Let me paint you a picture of how 15 minutes of yoga goes for me...

Me: "DOGS!!  Go on!  Seriously, just because I am sitting on the floor does not mean I am issuing and open invitation to lick my face!  GET. AWAY!


Dogs: (sad faces all around)


Daughter: "MOM! Can I have some cereal?"  (Doesn't matter what time of day - this is a legitimate question.)


Me: "Seriously? I am trying to do yoga, hence the pants.  Can you wait 15 minutes?  Or better yet, go ask your Dad!"


Me, again:  "For the love of Pete, will someone please put the dogs outside?  For like, 15 minutes? Thank you!"


Daughter: "MOM! Will you play walkie-talkies with me?"


Me: (no words now, just 'the look'.)


Daughter: "Sheesh.  Okay.  Fine"


Me: (finally in a yoga ready position - commencing brain emptying sequence - deep breath....aahhhhh)


Inner Voice:  "You look like an idiot."


Me:  "Can it.  I am shooting for clarity, relaxation, building my flexibility, etc.  It's not about how the yoga pants look on my ass, it's about the yoga."


Inner Voice:  "Riiiigghht.  Also, I am not talking about the pants.  You look like an idiot."


Me: "Zip it, Inner Voice.  Okay.  Breath in... out... in... Sweeeet Caroliiiine (Bah, Bah, Bah) good times never seemed so good....DAMMIT!  Focus..."


Husband:  "Hey!  Have you seen the dogs?  (confused look)  What are you doing on the floor?"


Me:  "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!  I just wanted to do 15 minutes of calming yoga.  Never mind.  The dogs are outside and our daughter would like some cereal."


Husband: "Hey, I like those pants..."


Me: (face palm)


THE END. 

Note to self:  Start doing yoga alone, behind closed doors, while every breathing occupant of my house is sleeping.  Also, yoga may not be conducive to creativity.  At least not yet...

Monday, January 23, 2012

The tricky thing about poetry...

...is that it is all so subjective and relative.  You don't get measured based on a certain rubric when you submit a poem for publication.  The editors don't send back to you a grading sheet that says, "while you meet standard criteria for areas A, B, and C, we found you severely lacking in area D."  Wouldn't that be nice?  To get some specific feedback that you could work with and then be able to make changes that would significantly increase your chances of publication?  Instead, it seems you blindly submit a poem to publication after publication, never really knowing if you should make any edits between submission #1 and resubmission #38. 

A friend of mine suggested that I find a mentor.  Someone who is "in the game" of publishing poetry who would be willing take me under their literary wing and offer constructive criticism as well as guidance.  This is probably good advice.  My road block here is that I don't know where to begin hunting this person down.  Of course I could attempt to be in touch with some of my professors from college - - but those might turn in to awkward little mini speed dating emails.  ("Hi, remember me from 5-7 years ago?  I was a spunky little undergrad who wore red cat-eyed glasses, overalls, and had an unhealthy obsession with the Beat poets?  I'm all growed up now. Wanna help me become a published poet?")  But perhaps the smart move would be to seek a poet who has a similar vibe as moi.  This will be an epic adventure.  Where's Waldo meets Carmen Sandiego, plus I spy. 

Alas.  To distract myself from the self-doubt and oncoming pity party from another rejection letter (#4, but hey, who's counting?), I'll begin pondering this idea of finding a mentor.  Google, here I come...

Thursday, January 12, 2012

I think I'd rather dig my eyes out with spoons...

Let me tell you about how miserably I am failing at writing poems of substance this week.

I AM FAILING MISERABLY AT WRITING POEMS OF SUBSTANCE THIS WEEK!  (So. Bad.) 

Folks, I have reached the point where I would rather dig my eyes out with spoons than open up my notebook and do nothing more than stare at blank pages.  Or, open my notebook and force myself to start writing, only to find that I am writing total crap.  I mean, some of the lines I have been churning out read like stuff I would have puked up in the 9th grade after being dumped by a boy with better hair than I, followed by listening to my Lisa Loeb and Cranberries CD's on repeat.  Ick.  Let me tell ya, that is not a good head space to be in when trying to write decent poetry. 

At any rate, I'm going to wrap up this little jewel of a blog post and take the rest of the day off from reading and/or writing poetry.  Perhaps tomorrow will prove more fruitful.  In the meanwhile, imma go dig out my Cranberries CD and "let it linger".  (Yes, I have to.  Yes, I have to.  Yes, I have to let it linger.)  Ahahahahaha!

Monday, January 2, 2012

New year, same old me.

I know lots and lots of folks out there resolving to go the "new year = new me" route.  I, however, am going to go the "new year, same me" route.  It's taken quite a while to reach this place where I am comfortable in my skin and with my thoughts - I'd rather not leave so soon.  Honestly, it's been pretty stressful breaking through the wall of fear and putting my writing out where the world can read it (and judge it), but I don't want to go back to holding it all in.

So for 2012, I am not resolving to change anything.  Not one thing.  I am instead going to stay the course and keep up with my goal of submitting pieces for publication once a month.  That seems like a better resolution to me.  I resolve to be resolute?  Eh, whatever.  Bring it on 2012.  I'm ready.  (You can't see me doing it, but I am giving it the old Hulk-a-mania stance...yeah, you're welcome for that mental picture.)