Coming to Poetry.

I credit a brief high school boyfriend with my coming to poetry. 

In 9th grade, I got a bit of a reputation at my small Christian school because I liked boys, and I liked to kiss them. But one boy in particular filled the world with stars for a few weeks. 

When he broke up with me, starlight was over. Many years later, I found out that our breakup had little to do with me, but at the time and for years after, I believed it was because of something I'd done (or been) wrong. 

My grief was massive. I was carrying all this pain and whatever version of wild love a fourteen-year-old girl can experience. 

I began to write poems--dreadful, derivative poems based on show tunes and Journey lyrics. He saw some of them, which is a little mortifying, but it's also satisfying to know that he must have caught some fractured glimpse of how I felt. So the pressure eased a little. 

Because of this experience, I began to see poetry as a container (a glass jar, a cardboard box, a metal safe) that could hold a feeling, an image, or a moment that I could no longer bear on my own. 

Small Essentials.

• string
• mounting squares
• poster board (you always end up needing it for some weird reason)
• Static Guard (good for tights and on a brush for straying hair)
• Downy Wrinkle Release
• Woolite Dry Cleaner's Secret (also good if you leave wet laundry too long, and it gets a little Clooney)
• miniature bells and rosettes
• three or four sizes of Sharpies in black and at least one other color
• colorful markers and pencils
• construction paper
• paper straws
• magnifying glass
• baking soda
• lens wipes
• Puffs Plus Lotion
• small flashlights
• fine-tip craft glue
• sharpened pencils
• every size of batteries
• super glue
• lip balm in every room
• notebooks or notepads in every room
• books in every room
• pipe cleaners
• bobby pins
• rubber bands (preferably colorful)
• small ice packs
• Cribbage board and cards

2020: A Well-Read Year.

Last year, I had a few months with almost no reading at all. The lack of reading made me sicker, and rebuilding the practice was slow and difficult. I need help staying on track. Not reading means repressing and hurting a large part of myself. Largely because of that, and despite my hard work at the end, I didn't reach my 2019 reading goal. I'm bummed about that.

So this year will be different. Last year, my Reading Challenge on GoodReads was 50 books, which I still think is reasonable for me. I finished 44 books. So I'm taking those six unread books and adding them to this year's goal: 56 in total.

Remember, I want to read a total of 1,000 books before I turn 40. That won't be easy, but I still think I can do it. I certainly have great books to choose from.

Bruce and I have started reading I Can Taste the Blood (not as gruesome as it sounds I think), which is a collection of novellas based on those words, which one author noticed on a public bathroom wall. Inspiration is everywhere!

Every day counts. And I'm starting in on my winter focus, children's lit.

Word of the Year: 2020.

I chose this word months ago and knew I wanted to spend a year with it. The word has several, slightly different meanings. I can refer to trying something over and over to get better at it. It can refer to the set-up of a doctor's clinic and work. It can mean someone's dedication to something like meditation. It can refer to devoting time to a vital activity with no expectations of any kind of success (though the repetition becomes its own success) or reward (though rewards of a kind do come).

My word of 2020 is Practice. 

I think I will grow into this rich, multi-faceted word. I will practice journaling, reading, blogging (it could matter to someone), and loving (a massive goal I can approach in tiny steps). Even getting ready each day can be a practice if I pay attention and put in effort for the sake of myself and others I see that day.

I'm not going to post about my word weekly as I did last year. I'll just post I have something to share about my word, which may be more or less often. And I'll blog about whatever else is on my mind.

Today, I've been practicing blogging! I had a lot of catching up to do. A practice can be exhilarating but is more often (for me) a comforting weight, like Oliver's weighted vest.

When I think of practice, I think of going through my thesis yet again at a bistro table, dancing hard shoe in the garage, and reading Phantom all afternoon. I need recent memories!

Lessons I Learned in 2019.

Surely, 2019 has taught me more than I realize. But this is what I've noticed.

• I learned that I really must not stop reading, even for a day. I slip away from it so easily. 
• I reviewed the importance of theatre for me. In 2019, I saw eight musicals with Bruce. Amazing. And now, I'm not longer a sort of guide; I'm a spectator. 
• I've learned that my Google Calendar is critical. Josh and I have linked calendars. If it's not on the calendar, it probably doesn't exist for me. I try to add appointments and events right away, and I try to review the calendar on my phone a few times a day. BSD (or the accompanying meds) have trashed my short-term memory.
• I found out that time alone together is not only special but also vital. Last June, Josh and I stayed in a hotel (thanks to my dad) for two nights while Oliver stayed with Mom. Josh and I worked on being alone together--so strange now! I want to try again this year. 
• I learned that Josh has talents and capabilities of which I was only vaguely aware. I both ask more of him and praise him more. I'm impressed with him.
• I found that I can get my pets needs with someone else's pets. I've spent some good time with Bruce's cats. I think I've even won over the aloof one.
• I learned that parenting requires love but also courage and determination, even despite pain and fear. I survived Oliver's having surgery (tongue-tie) and my having to perform miserable post-surgery care. 
• I learned that despite everything, a patchwork family can come together to help or to celebrate. Oliver had his six grandparental units for his birthday. Everyone talked, sat together, and simply joined in love for one adorable eight-year-old.
• I learned that I can find professionals who can and will help me, and I can manage changes. My psychiatrist, my therapist, and my primary care doctor have all changed recently (not by my choice), but I think the new ones will be good too. 

2020, please teach me gently!

Nourish/Challenge: Week 52.

This tiny week held the last days of 2019, and the other days scattered somewhere along the year's path. But I had the boys with me, which filled my heart. I skimmed old magazines from my collection, so Oliver could blithely shred them, and Josh could not-so-happily clean up the scraps.

I challenged myself again, in those two days, to read as much as possible. I finished two books: poems by Louise Gluck and a slightly fascinating memoir-through-object-memory by Dawn Raffel (new to me). I'd like to write that kind of memoir. Maybe I will.

Bruce took me to see Cats, which we both enjoyed despite the general negative reception. Cherry Coke+musical+cats+best friend+great nourishment...a great way to finish the year.

Nourish/Challenge: Week 51.

This outing is actually from the week before, but I'll tell you about it now anyway!

The boys and I went to Chilis--we almost never go out to eat, but with the semester ending, I wanted to try to celebrate. I had a burger so good that I barely touched my fries. Oliver ate like a champ--pizza, fries, grilled chicken. He was so well-behaved! He became alarmed when I went to the restroom, and he leaned into me when I came back. He said he wanted to go home, but we got him to wait for the wondrous Paradise Pie. He used a spoon easily (a skill that emerges only when ice cream is involved).  We had a great time. Our team at ABA was so excited about our successful outing.

Christmas was delightful, and I'll write all about it soon!

This last full week of the year, I read many books, I read poetry, short stories, and creative nonfiction, trying to reach my reach my reading my goal for the year.

I finished Heart-Shaped Box for the Tiny Book Club. I read SARK's book on naps, my first book by Thich Nhat Hanh, a volume of short stories, and an illustrated book about New York City fashion. I challenged myself to read as much as I could--it's not easy during the holidays!

And of course, the books and the family cheered and nourished me as we sped toward the new year.