Dreams

I had the most wonderful dream this morning/afternoon. And yes I was sleeping in. Often that accompanies a break and alone time.

But in this dream I saw my accomplishments, I saw a book of myself up until I passed. And this book was filled with published poetry, unsuccessful relationships, and crazy hairstyles. Certain people I'd expect were in it, and some who I'd expect were left out.

Overall, the idea that yes, I can be successful in poetry (perhaps not in love) is really incredibly self-rewarding. The idea alone is enough to make this day amazing, and prompt me to work really hard as I anticipate the oncoming news about the program.

oh no.

Deadlines. We all have them.
Mine is today.

Only a dreadful sinking feeling can accompany this.
Perhaps inadequecy. What kind of program

only accepts 14 people? Elitist. I
want to be accepted. Please?

I had to write a "why I'm applying"
and I'll post it

If I get in. So cross
your fingers, if you are reading this

hold your breath, as I hold mine
for the next week.

Inspiration, Part Do.

I guess this is "inspired" by two instances dealing with other people.
Sometimes, writing is personal, but a lot of the time other people are huge inspirations. Consider this: Shakespeare wrote of relationships, and he wasn't schizophrenic. Nothing is written in a vacuum, and often the ripest subject is other people.
So you know that creepy person who keeps eyeing you in the corner? Why not talk to them? Where do you think Aqualung came from?
Inspiration is everywhere, in so many things outside of ourselves. So I guess, sometimes you need to get over yourself, and get out of yourself.

Sleep Catatonia

So tonight, I wrote a memoir about my insomnia. It's odd that it wasn't actually about me, but an aspect of myself. I haven't update except for those awesome pictures.
I got into the creative writing class, which is ultimately exciting. I'm just that much closer to the degree of my dreams. I just really need to start believing me.
I'm also that much closer to having to make tough decisions between Grad School or a Job. They are all capitalized because they are Very Big Decisions. Not like what to buy at the grocery store, but LifeChanging. Like really good socks. Or not like socks at all, but more like sandals, because you can get callouses if you choose the wrong ones, and the right ones fit so well that it's like you're wearing "Nothing at all. Nothing at all. Nothing at all." Ah, Ned. How appropriately innappropriate to the situation.
Either way, I'm on my path. Sometimes I like to think about motivation. Technically, my poetry is a type of memoir, something to express my story. I don't really write any fictional poetry, it all comes from what I go through. And today it was expressed in my autobiography class that most write to create identity, or to promote an idea of yourself. Is that why I write, so that I can have a glimmer of identity in other people's eyes? Most definitely.
But Also:

• I Love Writing. More than most other things.
• I Love reading poetry. New and Old.
• This is something I've been doing consistently, for a long time. And if you know me, those two phrases are Rarely used in a description of my activities.
• I wrote poetry before I knew what it was, that is how well tuned my mind is with poetry.
• I don't think I could stand anything else for an extended period of time.
• Finally, I feel like I do have a message, an audience, and a reason to write. I do wonder about if reading something I write will create the release that I get from reading everything from Harlem Night Song to Marty McConnell.

On a side note, I'd like to tell you all about an experience I had before break, where I saw a poetry reading of the aforementioned Marty McConnell. It was amazing. I was so moved by her work, and how she pushed boundaries, and how she evoked emotion from the people in the audience, it was truly amazing to witness.

Anyways, before talking any further of who may or may not be my professional living icon, I guess I'd sum it all up with this:

• A dream is a dream. It isn't about how it started, or why it continued. Sometimes we can rationalize things that are innate, assuming they must have a starting point. Poetry is a part of me, and I will always do it. I can't think of anything that is more a part of me than maybe water.

So, I'm going to slip this shoe on and take a walk. You enjoy the music.

The best thing I've found on the internet:

The essence of my blog:

http://www.wordle.net/gallery/wrdl/380690/Stars%2C_the_moon%2C_and_missing_you.

The essence of my writing:

Brought to you by wordle.net, where you can type in a website domain or a block of text and it shows you visually what words are most common.

A leap of Faith.

So it's official that I'm an English Major. But where to now? I have to believe, and pour my soul into something that terrifies me. Why would I not be terrified if this is not what I want? I guess it's a bit cyclical.
I know this is what I want- and that terrifies me because I know I might not get it, and by accepting that I want I accept that it would be a great loss to not have it.
Oh, for expination: I want to be a creative writing major BUT it's incredibly competitive to make that leap between English and C.W. and I might not get accepted.
I don't know why that freezes me though.
I guess I must just pour my soul, as mentioned before, and watch it bleed when cut apart by a council.
I think it's mostly I don't feel ready to hear no, but it's too late to ignore it.

So I'm a jerk

And forgot to do this until it is technically too late. But I figure that any effort is a good effort, and maybe I will touch someone with my words. Hopefully they won't sue.
Poverty is a horrible evil that many people ignore. It is ignored when we see the impoverished, it is ignored when we hear about their problems. Often it is surmounted that they should in fact "go get a job". With what? At where? Have you looked at the economy lately? Have you ever considered how difficult it is to get hired when you have no home address for checks, no phone, no shower even to make yourself appear a bit more proffesional?
No, probably not. But being homeless, or even impoverished with a home, is a serious problem that cannot be considered a personal problem. It affects families, the children being hurt and their opportunities severely lessened.
I don't have any sources, or any quotes. I've never been poor enough to cry about or worry, and I've only heard offhand stories. But I want you to know, as any must, that this is something worth hearing, and hopefully, helping.
Poverty isn't personal, it's a community problem, a national problem, an international problem. So listen.