Is this really what it comes to? 7:59 pm and I’m finally snagging a few moments to myself on the good ol’ (new) Macbook Air (everyone deserves to have one of these beauties). Two out of three kids are asleep (as in the baby and the husband, hehe) but we have a couple extra ones staying over, so while I’m working I’m still on high alert for kid shenanigans!
But I must keep on keeping on. No matter how pathetic it feels sometimes to just NOT be able to fit it in. You know, ME time (the time I allow myself to ignore the dishes and laundry and family and just WRITE as if I were spinning around free, like Maria in the beginning of The Sound of Music, not the NEW one, but the old one, the REAL one). Since when did life get SO busy (asks the woman with three kids)?
I have so many ideas for projects but struggle to find time to even revise stuff that I’ve already written. It’s a good thing to just keep writing, but at some point you inevitably feel like there’s not enough time in your entire life to write all the things you can imagine writing (oh and don’t even get me started on how to revise it all!).
I’ve got to look at the next several poems on my list.
4. Feeding the Rapist
6. Doll Parts
I don’t know if I want to include these or even spend time working on these (right now). Sometimes you begin to feel insecure about these things. But maybe that’s part of the point, if they are uncomfortable poems then maybe that unsettling feeling is interesting. Part of my fear is that the titles might be off-putting for some. But then, I’m also comfortable with sticking with a title I like even if it may not be your taste.
So why make excuses? Maybe I’m just avoiding revising these uncomfortable poems because they, well, make ME uncomfortable!
And maybe I will revise the titles. Yea, looking at it, #4 is no bueno. Too much. Idk. I have to look at it longer. And you know how sometimes you look at an old poem and you’re just all like:
“Really? Was I serious here? This is not so good as I remembered it being at the time. Darnit.” (except that I usually curse strongly in my head, so “darnit” would be more like “!@#$ bleep %^&* bleepity bleep *(@$!-it!”)
And sometimes you just have to scrap it (the poem) and do a new something else (before you mangle it and cut out everything and it’s all dismembered and slashed and unrecognizable). You can’t even begin to fix a poem (sometimes) so you just leave it alone for an indefinite amount of time (weeks, months, years…like forever?). Poetry archives. Or your hard-drive. Thumb drive. Air drive thing whatever it’s really called (sorry husband, I will never attain your level of techiness regardless of how minor this issue might be). Back it up, is all I got to say.
Cloud! There it is, you know…the “cloud” that you can save your stuff to. Right???
<Tries reading through poems to revise and make notes>
<Feels overwhelmed with crappy sentimentality of poems and other erroneous devices>
Blehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Tired. Will revise tomorrow. I seriously can’t go to those poems (what??? don’t look at me like that! I just can’t!). Which is why I try not to wait until the end of the day, when I’m weary and teary (okay I’m not crying (yet) but it rhymed, and I’m desperate, and so I just went with it). Sometimes you gotta keep going, but sometimes you need to know when to quit.
<Stares blankly at computer while fantasizing about perseverance>