loose leaf and spiral bound

If you know me at all, you know that I love music. I will shush you in the truck when a good song comes on. I will dance in any Target or grocery store or waiting room if one of my jams comes over the speakers. I have very specific play-lists for happy days, crappy days, melancholy days, etc. Music matters to me in a way that is hard to express. BUT, I have finally found a way to explain it. Sort of. The look on the guy's face at 4:30 in the video below is everything. It's love, it's hope, it's faith, it's happiness...all of it. That's what music does. Whether you are playing music or listening to music, it can be whatever you need it to be. Music never asks you "why" and it doesn't ask for anything in return. (Well, it might ask for $0.99 if you want to download it...) Also, this is what writing does for me. It lets me feel whatever I need to feel. It lets me get out whatever I've been harboring inside. It doesn't ask me why and ...

As you might guess from the title, I have something to say. Go ahead and read this tumblr post.  Just do it real quick: Now here's the deal. I met my husband when I was just 18 years old through a mutual friend. We started dating when I was 19. Had our daughter when I was 21, married at 22 (wedding was in May and my college graduation was in August - a busy few months), and home owners by 23. There is not a single day that I regret any part of our time together. I have a constant companion and best friend, no need to worry about dates for parties, have someone who likes to cook me dinner, fixes things around the house, and mows the lawn. IT'S GREAT!! Here we are on our wedding day. Say it with me, "D'aww"! Do I give him a hard time and tell him that he robbed my of my youth? Absolutely. (Teasing him is one of my favorite pastimes. I might even call it a hobby.) Do I mean it? Absolutely not. There were lots of folks out there who didn't think w...

Well, this is awkward. It's been three (...and a half) months since I've written anything. Not just talking about a blog post, I mean I haven't written ANYTHING. Not even so much as a stanza. It's pretty pathetic. Sorry. No excuses here, just apologies. I've been in a rut/slump/funk and am extremely disappointed in myself. Alas. If you've been a frequent-flyer to this blog, you know how much I love to use pictures as writing prompts. This time I asked my friend Thomas Brown to supply the photo. (Seriously, if you're ever in need of a photographer in Arizona...look him up. I very much enjoy his fine art photos.) I tackled this writing exercise a little differently. I gave myself only 15 minutes and decided that I would post to this blog that piece EXACTLY as it was, with NO EDITS. Gotta be honest here and tell you that it is so damned hard to put this up without any tweaks, changes, edits, or rewrites. But, I know how I sometimes wish I could see other poe...

I STAYED AT THE STANLEY HOTEL!!! (...way back in April. Yeah. Totally slacking on getting this post up. Stop judging me and just start reading. Look at my pictures at a minimum.) Let me start at the beginning. All of these wheels started turning when I sent my mother a link to an article interviewing Stephen King about his sequel to The Shining. It tells the story of an all grown up Danny Torrance. (FYI, The Shining is one of my favorite books AND favorite movies.) She got just as excited as me about this and the next thing I know, we're on a road trip to Colorado for a two night stay at the Stanley Hotel. BOOM! My Mom wins all the awards and gathers all of the cool points because she booked us a room on the 4th floor (haunted floor) and we got a Redrum coffee mug, glow in the dark squeezy ghost and frisbee, AND a night time ghost hunt. GAH! My excitement is still palpable four months later. Side note: for those who don't know, the Stanley is where Stephen King was staying...

On a totally un-poetic, not very "literary", note - - I would like to talk about friendship. Folks, I'll have you know that I just turned thirty. Yup. The big 3-0. I had a shindig and as all my friends and family were surrounding me, I realized that I have the most ridiculously absurd friends. And I love them dearly. However, we all have that   friend. The one who knows that deep down you are a actually a super judge-y person full of inappropriate jokes, are a borderline asshole, and loves you despite all that. Maybe, quite possibly, because of all that. Well, I am lucky enough to have a few of those friends, but one in particular demonstrates these qualities in spades. You've seen some of our random text messages here . But please, let me introduce you to a handful of our instant messages: Conversation 1:  HER: Still, that's a lot of cat heariding *herding. but possibly also hea-riding. ME: How did you know I recently became a fan of hea-riding? Heas...

It has recently been pointed out to me that I am that terribly annoying person who is constantly looking for the good in every situation. Gag, right? I know. Alas, this is another one of my "things" that I do. Car broke down? No problem, your new adventure will be riding the bus and making all sorts of fun friends. Washed your wool sweater in hot water and it shrunk? Who cares! Now your doggy has some trendy new apparel. The only time this is not my "thing" is when I am reviewing some of my older or unfinished poems that I have relegated to my "Graveyard" file. I have a very hard time going through those old poems already deemed craptacular and finding a solid nugget to work with. This is unfortunate because I write half started/finished poems down all of the time. I enjoy it. I like getting the brainwaves going and the words rolling off of my tongue and there is never a better feeling than knowing you are just absolutely knocking it out of the park and ...

Do you ever get the feeling that when people talk about creative writing, they are implying air-quotes? Like "Creative Writing" (sigh, eye roll, air quotes)? As if it is something to be mocked? I really don't think they understand that creative writing is much more than sonnets, soliloquies, and iambic pentameter. It is song lyrics, movie scripts, and stand up comedy routines. It is fortune cookie slips, advertising copy, and op-ed pieces. Know what you don't ever hear: "I'm sorry, did I hear that correctly? You're a rocket scientist? How useful is that in everyday life? I can't believe your parents supported that college major!".  Sheesh. To each their own, right? Yes. I am a writer. A creative one at that. A friend of mine found this on the interwebs and sent it to me. Yes, she was also an English major in college. How'd you guess?

Okay, let me give you a little bit of back story. My friend (and coincidentally, my cousin) was able to secure some tickets to a Counting Crows concert and she ever so graciously invited me to attend with her. We arrived to the outdoor concert area a touch early to find good parking and pick up our tickets, so we killed some time by meandering around the park. That is when we stumbled upon this little nugget of comedy gold: Get it? Vanna White? Bahahahaha! VANNA WHITE!!!!  You cannot tell me this is not hilarious! I am guessing this was but one of the many vans from the opening acts. I absolutely used to openly make fun of those girls in high school who would name their cars. Thought is was hysterical when grown men would refer to their muscle cars with a feminine pronoun - - but all of that pretentious and snotty attitude has been erased! Because this is EPIC. Well played musicians and concert crew. Well played, indeed. She is a thing of beauty to be treasured alway...

I have used the past few days (or if I am being honest, the past week) to focus on reading instead of writing. Sometimes you need to refill the gas tank, right? Right. What did I read, you ask? Well, I'll tell you...I read the Hunger Games trilogy (yeah, I finally jumped on that train), then I re-read "The Summer of Black Widows" by Sherman Alexie, "Bite Me" by Christopher Moore, and then I devoured "The Gargoyle" by Andrew Davidson (so good!). It's true that only one of those books is a collection of poetry - - but to me it doesn't matter the genre, only that I am reading. It seems imperative to expose yourself (heh, not like that you dirty bird) to as many different lives, dreams, opinions, and stories as possible. You'll never experience everything all on your own, sometimes you've got to hear it from someone else. After all, isn't that one of the reasons why people write?  To share their story in hopes of connecting with som...

I am taking a break from poetry today. Thus the random blog post. Enjoy. There are quite a few folks out there obsessively planning for impending doom - apocalypse if you will - brought on by zombies.  These folks are planning in terms of weapons and warfare. I am planning in terms of play list. That's right, I am creating the perfect "mixed tape" for the Zombie Apocalypse. I have solicited opinions from friends, co-workers, and family. Here's the list so far: Disturbia, Rhianna Tighten Up, Black Keys Teeth, Lady Gaga Feel Good Inc., Gorillaz Machine Head, Bush Crazy, Gnarls Barkely Hard Knock Life, Jay-Z Tik Tok, Ke$ha Is There a Ghost, Band of Horses Sabotage, Beastie Boys Johnny B. Goode, Chuck Berry Lazy Song, Bruno Mars Rappers Delight, Sugar Hill Gang 1979, Smashing Pumpkins Rooster, Alice in chains Blackbird, The Beatles End of the World as We Know It, REM (...duh) Feel free to make additions as you see fit.  Let me know wh...

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 fl...

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.)

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...