Thursday, 11:30

You know, I picture myself in situations sometimes that I know won’t ever happen. That being said, let me explain:

I will be sitting in class, having a conversation, or watching some scene of my life unfold, and then a few minutes after (or later on at home, when I have time to think about it), I will picture that scene playing out differently. The “characters” will sometimes change what they say, usually “romanticizing” the whole conversation, making it sweeter, or kinder; more impressive, intelligent, witty, dramatic, etc — depending on the sort of mood I might be in. It is my own version of daydreaming, but instead of seeing it like a movie playing through my head, when I stare off into space, I see it as a written script.
Maybe that is because I’m more attracted to writing than I am to movies/directing?

Hm, I should look that up later in Psychology. 🙂

This might sound strange as well: I talk to myself. Eh, frequently. My computer is the best outlet for it — I will be sitting at my computer, (& it is always while playing a game online or Spider Solitaire), and I will start talking in the dialogue of several different characters in my head. 50% of the time they are ACTUAL characters from literature I’ve read, 20% of the time they might be friends, (rarely family), or co-student associates that I meet every day. The rest of the time they are movie actors, myself and one idealistic, romanticized, “perfect” person (a.k.a. Mr. Right) having a good ole’ chat. The scene and settings are described in my head, not out loud, but all of the dialogue usually goes on out loud.

Strange for someone to talk to herself…and answer herself? Naw. Not when she’s a writer; because those little “mini-stories” or whatever they are have spanned some pretty brilliant ideas. It is my mind’s way of brainstorming through the hundres of story and poem variables (ideas) that stream through my life every morning.

And on (another) side note!
Presleyjoe made a poem. It is 98% sure to suck, but I kind of like it anyway, and if someone’s doesn’t like it that can just be their opinion. It’s a mixture of the mood I’ve been feeling lately (though my moods have not been a bit as dramatic and angsty) and the feelings of a character of mine I write with. It is roughly, uncertaintly titled Irrevocable“, but I’m never sure about’em. Both of us have pretty good lives, but there’s a few things we’d like to get off our chests, if you don’t mind:


Tension by thy breath,
tight skin over high bones
I lay there holding,
frantic wet, all bundles
gathering the lies and concealing
one of my many love notes.

That boy will be my death,
when he won’t
ever, reveal heart
because it does not exist.
Our moist kisses are long,
and invisible.

Chip on his shoulder’s facet
big as The cross,
And he is handsome still
I watch him from my bay window,
the bastard,
fire from my heart to below.
I seem to overthink
even the most obvious of tension.
He loves me.
This lonely ole’ town is nothing but a medium,
I am Minnesota Bound;
Britain bound.
Bound for home and him.

Yes? No? Eh?
Obviously I am “Minnesota Bound” — my character I told you about is “Britain bound”. We are sort of both “Bound for home and him.”

I wrote this today in class with a mix of feelings and a desire to do something authentic that made me feel good — and poetry has always done that. I read back over it, and all over again I relish over the feelings; both good and bad. Nothing too dramatic has happened in my life, recently, so you guys (any of my blog or twitter readers) get a break from the angst! Whoo. 🙂

I know it has been forever and a hopscotch since I last posted here (yeah, I just said that), and it is all my fault, inexcusable, blah blah blah. Sorry — oops, covers it.

I want to go see a band live! A good band! Not some five dollar-at-the-door band. More importantly: I want someone to take me to GO see a good band, and not go by myself or with, shudders, family.

Have a lovely evening, my loves.


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