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.
The weather’s bringing me down today. Side note: I’m also obsessed with this FOB song.
This is usually the moment I tell you to make the most of the rest of your weekend, but that would be hypocritical as I’m currently sitting on a couch in the dark basement of my parents’ house. At least I’m listening to pop punk.
Last week was rough. Here’s a hint…don’t catch stomach bugs. Luckily, I like to think of Sundays as the day to start anew. I survived Hell and now is my opportunity to bounce back. Good thing the TV lost its signal, because now I can say I started the new week with a poem.
There’s still time to accomplish something wonderful before Monday rolls around, folks. It’s up to you to figure out what it’s going to be.
Today is the day that Facebook feeds are cluttered with lists. We pick out five or six things we’re thankful for like family, friends, food, faith, etc. I’m not going to do that here. While I am thankful for my parents and my cat and my guitar and my favorite restaurant, today I want to reflect on something a little different.
Lately I’ve been working on loving myself and loving my own company, finding happiness in times of solitude. I went through a period where I lost my admiration for myself and so today, on Thanksgiving, I am thankful for me. I’m thankful for my strength to fight. I’m thankful for my individuality and my love for writing. I’m thankful that I know exactly who I am and I’m thankful that I love her. I am thankful that I am alive.
Thanks for sticking with me. Life’s a journey and sometimes it gets busy, which is why I feel utterly lucky to have this magical thing called writing that lets me dance my way through it without rules. Have a fantastic Monday!
The last couple days have been action packed. For one, it was my birthday on Thursday. Secondly, I went on my first business trip. In other words, I grew up a little in the past 48 hours. I like keeping myself busy because it allows for optimum productivity and fun, sticking by the cliche of living every day like it’s my last. But every once and awhile I’m forced into solitude–the three hours I hung out in the airport yesterday and the subsequent three hours on the plane. It’s those moments, when I’m by myself, that the world feels big , and I’m invisible, just an ant in the crowd. Sure, quiet can feel calming at times, like when I curl up with a notebook and spill my feelings, but that’s the kind of quiescence I choose, the kind of quiet that begs for reflection. I wish I could remember to savor that sensation of stillness and learn to live devoid of loneliness. My company should be enough.
This one’s inspired by “Car Radio” by Twenty One Pilots. Quiet is violent.
This week I’ve favored the word “melancholy,” not quite feeling sad, not quite feeling happy, not quite sure what I want, conflicted, comfortable, and on edge all at the same time. This melancholy state has allowed me to take a few moments of introspection and reflect upon my goals, my hopes, and my confidence. Hearing the Twenty One Pilots song “Be Concerned” this morning, I felt drawn to the dichotomy of the music: the sense of purity that contrasts with the raw verse of the rap. I listened a couple times, and then before even perceiving that I’d picked up a pen, I’d written a poem.
Thanks for stopping by. If you have a second, check out the archives of all my Twenty One Pilots inspired poetry and give a listen to their music below. Also, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. What are you feeling conflicted about right now?
I’ve failed to post my regular Saturday series for weeks. I have no excuse, except to say I’m human and anything but perfect. But it’s the new year and time to get back on track.
So, per my usually usual Saturday series, I give you a poem inspired by the title of a Twenty One Pilots’ song. Find the archives of all my TOP titled poetry under my featured tab and as always, give a listen to the band that’s held my hand with interlocked fingers for all of 2013 below.