loose leaf and spiral bound

I pulled down my "Selected Poems of Federico Garcia Lorca" paperback tonight, and started thumbing through the pages.  Apparently, many many moons ago, I ripped up pieces of paper and stuck them in where I thought there were things I should note.  Things I clearly wanted to revisit and remember.  What a lovely trip down memory lane.  I remember going through this Lorca phase my sophomore year of college.  I remember how I had red plastic cat-eyed glasses and a fondness for Doc Martens.  I remember the boy I had a crush on in my Poetry 253 class.  Most of all I remember being happy.  It was a good time and place for me.  Perhaps I will go back before bed and re-read some of Lorca's poems (because they are magnificent).  But for right now, I am very content just dwelling on my memories that have nothing to do with Spanish poets, and everything to do with poetry.

Here's the thing, I know the word "brainstorm" seems rather trite and overused, but to me it is a vivid word and brings to mind some crazy images that are big and bold.  I rather like it, both as a noun and a verb.  Anyway, I am digressing.  (SHOCKER!)  Okay, bringing it on back to the topic at hand... While drinking coffee and doing more doodling in my notebook than writing (shock #2 of the day, right?) it occurred to me that I have been mulling over objects more so than concepts as of late.  To clarify, I keep pulling up images of items - - antique pocket watches, abandoned lighthouses, and yellowed maps.  Not so much how I normally roll with brainstorming ideas for new poems.  Usually I go off of sheer feeling and emotion.  It could be anything that brings on what I call "The Feeling" - - but this has most definitely not been the case recently. This should be an adventure to say the least.  We'll see how it turns out.  This is yet...

At last count I have 21 poems out for review to five different places.  Holy. Shit. First, I kind of want to pat myself on the back for keeping up with my goal of one submission per month.  So "go me"!  Second, I kind of want to tear all of my hair out because this waiting business is for the birds.  Seriously, I know that I have touched on this topic before, but it does not make me any less impatient.  I have a hard time waiting for that self-addressed stamped envelope to boomerang back.  I can handle a rejection letter with much grace and aplomb (no really, I totally can).  I am simply very uncomfortable thinking about what goes on between the time someone opens my submission envelope and my SASE is returned.  Who is reading my stuff?  What do they think?  Am I conveying emotion?  Am I making connections with readers?  SO. STRESSFUL.  I mean, I am a creative person!  (Read: overactive imagination.)  I am able...

I don't know if I have ever been more proud of my daughter.  This moment of pride has nothing to do with goals scored in a soccer game or high marks on a report card.  It doesn't even have anything to do with nailing her lines in the all school assembly (which she did and I was thoroughly impressed).  It has everything to do with what she wrote down for her "I'm Thankful" assignment at school... It reads:  Sadie.  I am thank for great teachers and dogs that can play.  Books and white boards, markers.  Thank you for my lovely mom and dad.  I'm thankful for trees and paper that lets us draw, water that I can spill on my paper.  I love my tears I can cry with.  "I love my tears I can cry with" and "thankful for trees and paper that lets us draw, water that I can spill on my paper"  !!!!  Yes!  Amazing!  She's seven, and so comfortable thinking outside the box when it comes to writing.  My only hope is that thi...

Let's see, this particular tangent started because I was brainstorming ideas for a (relevant) blog post and got distracted in one of the most random texting relays to date.  I thought to myself, "Jenn, you have the most random friends.  Is this really the weirdest round of texts you've received?"  So, 20 minutes into going through the incoming and outgoing text messages on my phone, I have realized that I do not have the most ridiculous friends...I have some of the most AMAZING friends.  Truthfully, I cannot comprehend why these beautiful and wonderful people continue to talk to me, considering the things that come out of my mouth (usually at the most inappropriate times).  Examples of awesome friendship demonstrated below... Outbox:  Sigh.  It's fine.  I'll just polish off these bottled margaritas myself and then sing and dance to bad 80's music alone in my dining room.  It's okay.  I'm embracing my middle agedness gracefully. This...

Have you ever had one of those days where you wake up and you just want to do every-little-frickin-thing?  Yeah.  I woke up and immediately wanted to create something.  Everything.  Right now. I mean, I had a fiery vengeance to work on new poems, rework old poems, do some more writing for the photography book I've been asked to co-author, and to doodle some new cartoons, and to mod podge the shit out of some collages.  I wanted to be consumed by creativity and OWN IT. Then, I spent the next hour on Facebook and Google+.  (sigh...)  I'm still itchy, though.  Ready to tear through some poetry like my life depends on it.  But I also want to make collages...  and look through photos for inspiration... and finish that book of poems by Malcolm Lowry. I mean, the trouble here could be that I've been awake since 6:30 a.m. and have emptied an entire pot of coffee by myself.  Whatever.  I'm going to Hobby Lobby....

I have recently been reading the book, "Open Secret: Versions of Rumi" by, John Moyne and Coleman Barks.  Okay, really brief lesson.  Rumi was born in 1207 in what is now Afghanistan and lived until 1273.  For most of his life, he was believed to be a teacher.  End lesson. The remarkable thing about his work is that he doesn't say anything I don't already know, but it is so stunningly simple and clear that it just blows my mind!  Example 1, "When I am with you, we stay up all night.  When you're not here, I can't go to sleep.  Praise God for these two insomnias!  And the difference between them."  Example 2, "Who sees inside from outside?  Who finds hundreds of mysteries even where minds are deranged?  See through his eyes what he sees.  Who then is looking out from his eyes?"  Okay, last one, "The clear bead at the center changes everything.  There are no edges to my loving now.  I've heard it said there's a w...