Pointless

I am so remiss. Here is a fact...I'm a writer. I love this whole blog thing. But I haven't been very consistent about writing lately. Then, tonight I read my blogfriend Jen's truthful/funny/poignant blog about losing her virginity to a circus clown, and my blogfriend Imez' truthful/funny/poignant blog about falling apart at a wedding, and I thought, holy crap, my posts are really getting shallow.

It's not that I don't have things to write about, I just can't really write about them.
Over the last couple months I have collected the "chicken coop in the backyard" story, the "going to therapy with my son" story, the unbelievable "night in jail" story, and of course, the "I may have found a good man and be ready to break my vow to NEVER write about relationships" story. But for a plethora of reasons, I have chosen not to write about those things. Right now. (Someday you'll be riveted by the mounting suspense of "the morning I realized SHE was a rooster" and the melancholy recounting of "graffiti on the cement walls of the slammer")

So, instead, my blog has been reduced to sound bites about my longing for year round school and the fact I actually have a JOB. Sorry. Hang in there while I push poems and quotes and tidbits about what I had to eat at the FAIR your way.

Oh, okay, I guess I do have one thing. Wait, I don't want to talk about that one either. Damn. I guess it's back to sound bites for a little while longer...

Register to vote. And vote for who I want you to. Thank you.

Regarding the above sentence, yes, I know I end sentences with prepositions. BUT, I found the following in the American Heritage Dictionary so take note all you literati....
"There is nothing inherently bad about ending a sentence with a preposition. Such placement may cause awkwardness by giving undue stress to the preposition or it may provide a weak ending. But often, the final position is the only natural one for the preposition." See asterisk * below

I do not like drawing names for Christmas presents. I want to buy for who I want to buy for. There.

I have enough potted plants. I want cut flowers. Irises. Yes, I know they die eventually. But then I get to be done. I can enjoy them, maybe take a couple pictures. Then they go away.

*My biggest fault is that I think I'm right most of the time. The problem is, I usually am.

(I have the urge to follow that statement with one about gratefulness just to redeem my arrogance but I'm not gonna do it)

I'm reading some good books....A Thousand Names For Joy by Byron Katie, Poemcrazy by Susan Wooldridge, and those teen vampire books by Stephanie Meyers (THAT revelation was a bit embarrassing).


"We walked through night 'til night was a poem"
--Brenda Hillman
(what does she mean by "night" anyway? Is it night as in the time of day, or is it night as in darkness, sorrow, the hidden, the lost?) (Anyway, great quote)