Tonight I thought I’d offer a little insight into my writing process. I have a relationship with my notebooks. I can look at each one sitting on my shelf and remember what phase I was going through at the time. That black and tan one with the ripped binding holds the pain of moving away from my best friends after college. The light blue one was filled in a single coffee shop during a period of extreme loneliness while drinking almond milk lattes every day. The pastel swirled one is dedicated to Twenty One Pilots. The zebra striped one holds the heartache of unrequited love. The orange one is when I started facing my demons. I could keep going.
I love holding a pen in my hand and feeling the energy of emotion flow through. I love being able to scribble through thoughts, keeping the record of struggle and indecision tangible. I like that I edit as I go, reminded of the imperfection at every glance. Writing is a messy art and I crave that hand to paper connection. Computers are convenient, but if given the choice I choose a notebook every time.
I hope your weekend was splendid. Sleep well my friends.
Honestly, I didn’t plan on writing today, but I lit a candle on my bedside table and couldn’t help myself. This one’s different, pointless almost, just a moment of life scribed with a glass of wine.
I ran out of time today to do everything that I wanted to do. I need to remember that it doesn’t make me a failure, but that my life is full.
Tonight I’m listening to acoustic Sleeping with Sirens and Grizfolk. I want to lose myself in the lyrics like I did yesterday at Warped Tour, closing my eyes and feeling the music of each band, letting it grab hold of my soul and claim a part of me, even for just a second.
I discovered a band called Onward Etc. If there’s one thing you’ll take away from this blog post, it’s to listen to them and find your own poem in their lyrics.
Good night loves.
This poem didn’t capture everything that I needed to say tonight. I’m not sure what it is that I need to say right now or really what emotion I’m currently feeling. Everything tonight is nameless and blurry, and that’s how I feel about this poem. It works because it’s messy and introspective and unclear and honest, but it’s still missing something. It’s missing heart.
Good night my friends,
I didn’t know what to write about so I wrote about it all.
I’m more scared of being trapped inside all day than getting a little wet in the rain. Take the chance, always.
There’s something about the close of the weekend that requires epic introspection. Now is the time, when everyone is winding down and setting their Monday morning alarm clocks, to take a few moments and reflect on what’s running most prominently through your brain.
Sometimes I struggle with these hours of solitude, feeling lost in their isolation, afraid of the silence. Other times I welcome the freedom. Tonight I feel both with equal weight.
Sleep well my friends!
Don’t ever let someone make you feel like you don’t have a voice or that your voice has no weight. Be heard. Be yourself and be heard.
I love you guys.
In the moment.
Have a great long weekend!
Don’t put yourself in a box.
Back in college, in the one and only poetry class I ever took, my teacher looked us all in the eye and said, “If you’ve never written a poem about sex, you should.” I questioned whether or not it was a good idea to post this poem on here, but for the sake of being real, I decided to go for it. I wrote this in the afternoon while having a casual conversation with my roommate about going to the gynecologist.
I like the freedom of Sunday mornings, that I could sleep indefinitely if I wanted, that I can waste the morning making pancakes and then eat them in bed. I rarely make plans for Sundays, just drift through the day and see what happens, let who I see be a surprise.
Poetry can be whatever you want it to be.