Sometimes I write poems. They might not be your thing, but I like doig it. Below is one I've written that I like.
It’s the itch and scratch like a bug flying by your ear, an electronic buzz in your brain, and you promised, demanded, that you were a rock, a mountain. But from this great height Your face tightens, and you’re sure that if you cling to that thin rope it will stretch and Not break against your trembling weight. You hear mumblings in mahogany about “history” and open-ended questions set like traps for your brain’s wild gait. Still standing, though you run through the minefield in the hope that you’ll be Better.
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Everyone goes through transitions, whether they are physical or spiritual or both. I've gone through quite a few myself in my 26 years: the "trying to be a badass to impress boys with mohawks" phase, the "I'm in college and only wear T shirts and jeans now" phase, and there was the " I have never seen adult job money in my life" phase. But now I am in the middle of something different.
When I graduated from college, I was a big fish in a small academic pond. And looking back on it now, I might not even have been that big of a fish in the first place. But my head was inflated with the accolades of my professors, so I dreamed big and applied to places like Berkley and Purdue for a Master's program. I had no plan B. Surely they would clamor for someone like me and I would be well on my way to becoming a professor, Except that they didn't. They turned me down. I was left lost and asking myself what I should do next. The immediate need was for income. ANY income. So I sent out resumes like a madwoman and interviewed for everything. Bartending, waitressing, dishwashing, retail. Nothing was below me as long as it paid. I found an administrative assistant job that paid well. I had a 401K started. I had insurance. Life was going according to someone's plan, but it wasn't mine. When the office I worked for laid me off, I was honestly kind of excited. I've never had time off before, to evaluate what I want to do. The problem soon became apparent that I have a hard time finding what I like to do. That sounds dumb, I know, but I never got a moment to myself until now to sit quietly and do things that purely bring me joy. So, that's where I'm at. Writing and cataloguing my way through it all so that eventually (hopefully) when I have my shit together I can look back on this and laugh at how silly this phase was too. |
AuthorAn aging English major rediscovers her passion for education and writing and tries to pursue a career in her field against all odds. Profanity, hilarity, and entertainment ensue. ArchivesCategories |