Seemed like a good time to do another one of these. I worry if I leave them too long, my memory will be a little too fuzzy. If you haven’t seen one of these from me before: when I started this blog, I did daily creative writing posts for over two years. After that it was a bit more on and off. But, it means I have a decent amount of old pieces that I like to revisit, discuss, and maybe inspire myself with. I hope you can get something out of them, and maybe get the chance to see an old piece that would be a lot of work to find.
This piece was a filler, meaning, I wrote it way before, and used it because I was way too tired to write something new as I usually did. It shows its age, in my opinion. At the time I actually wrote it, I was living alone for the first time, in a house to myself with many pets that were abandoned into my care. There was a sense of new found independence, but also fear, anxiety, and depression. I would use writing, creating, and dreaming as escapes from how stressed I was about even figuring out what I wanted to do. It was a sense of being seasick, which this poem shows. Trying to make sense of myself as a fully independent human as both my parents had kind of vanished… no prolonged goodbyes because I was the last one left, and divorce still created a weird tension. Even as I was awake, I felt half asleep and like I was stuck in waves.
86. Soft Minds
With the stress of my job at the time, I was needing a tactic to get my mind started for writing. For this one I googled images, and found the header image you see with this piece. The calm of his face, I was trying my best to emulate it, and use it to trigger my own calm. Having grown-up with many acres of nature, when I’ve hit a limit of sorts, I tend to use it to soothe me. In the front field of our farm where I grew up, about 12-14 dear would hang out. They were always so full of calm. I remember, as I wrote this, I got to this point of a serene smile and my high shoulders finally falling as I made myself take softer breaths.
87. Bedtime Blues
The wonders of overwhelm and fatigue. On a brink of a migraine, I was really noticing how bright the bathroom light was. It was one of those nights that huddling up in blankets was pure bliss, resulting in me falling asleep right away. I wanted to create an off putting tone to this piece. Pretty sure I had been watching some movie or show with the listed colours. Maybe a Tron?
88. The Rainbow Man
Through the years, I’ve had spurts of this strong desire to try and do unmarked kindness, where no one knows it was me, but I can see it helped their day just a little. Maybe it’s because I feel so uncomfortable with thank you’s, or even just being noticed. There is a sense of wonder being anonymous, and getting to see reaction without having to truly receive them. Too much direct kindness from others, and I feel really uncomfortable, and like I owe them way too much, more than I can ever repay. This piece is an homage to that sentiment.
89. The Intellect
The amount I needed to learn for work at the time… I had no previous coding experience, and had to learn to build websites. It began to feel endless, and as if I knew nothing. Though, they still hired me.
Simultaneously, this poem expresses anger towards how much sometimes intelligence is used to measure a person while praising intelligence. The general concept was mainly the idea of constantly gathering information and trying to stuff as much in one’s head as possible, but it never seems like enough because you need wisdom as well.
90. Cellophane Girl
Growing up, my family would criticize makeup, too much self-care, and focusing on visual presentation of one’s self. Though they wouldn’t stop you from doing it, there would be so many snide comments to those who did, implying they were whores, money obsessed, and dependent. It’s taken me a while to feel okay even having a skin routine, using lotion that smells nice when my hands are dry, and to sometimes wear some makeup.
This poem was about animosity towards the idea of women who specifically prime themselves to manipulate with their looks, body language, and diction. Though, it is almost praising for how in the end it really is a lot of work and dedication, and is hard not to notice.
91. Fishing For Dreams
Though I have a tendency for cynicism, at my core I’m a hopeful dreamer. I also have a love for surrealism, childish wonder, and simplicity. Imagining memories of being a child, I really did love being one. At times, I’ve been told I’m still childish, not in an immature way, but in the bubbly, sparkling eye way. Due to some traumas, sometimes I lose that, but it’s still there. I really am a child at heart. (Catch me dancing in my office chair, holding back giggles while no one watches).
Maybe not all of these pieces were gems, but feel free to give them a quick read. Of these, Fishing for Dreams and Soft Minds are the ones I still look at fairly fondly. Between all these pieces, it’s clear I was working hard to bring back my optimism between bouts of doubt and lack of confidence. I hope you got something out of this post, it was cathartic for me.