Unposted

When "real" writers (ie: the ones who get paid to do it) give advice, it almost always comes down to this: write, and write often; just do it; or (my favorite) don't get it right, get it written. It doesn't necessarily matter what it is you're writing either, just that you are practicing with the written word. It's just simple practice, like lifting weights in order to go out and...uh...open pickle jars or embarrass fat people or whatever else it is people that work out do.

Naturally this results in catalogs of unpublished works, at least for the dedicated writer, which means I have about 10 pages (not counting the plethora of created, but discarded, smartass work emails)

In regard to ye ole blog, I have a few things I've sat on for a while. Blogs that went unfinished, or ideas I started with but never polished. I honestly think of this whole blog as a mid-process window: I don't consider much of anything I post to be "finished", I just write it and post it (a longer process than it sounds, trust me) without much revision. Of course, knowing myself, I would edit out the emotion in favor of (more) lame jokes and sarcastic banter, because that's how I operate.

SO: Here are a few nuggets that I didn't want to post alone, but couldn't find a perfect fit elsewhere. Forgive my "short sentences double-spaced" (or freeverse poetry)



It's a WRISTBAND

Ever so sweetly, a girl in one of my classes asked me, "What does your bracelet say?"

I paused as I was erasing my whiteboard and thought, "Bracelet...?" I looked down at my wrist, at the black band that keeps a nice, constant pressure on me. "Oh, my wristband" (because apparently even in grief gender stereotypes persist)

So I shared, not much, but I shared. It wasn't the first time I had told this new group of students about Joel -- some of them knew from being around last year and, of course, in introducing myself to them on the first day, I wasn't going to mention one son and not the other -- but there was an odd feeling about it. It wasn't so much wanting to avoid being a "downer" to my students, or even to avoid distracting from class with our story; I felt like I was protecting them.



$#!%

What a strange #@$%ing day.

(I censor because it is supposed to be both visually appealing and more comical...although I've always been curious if there was a key for replacing the letters in curse words. I mean, $#!% ( or shit) is pretty easy, but I', just @!$$!*& in the dark when it comes to replacing f-u-c-k. Ah, #@$% it)



All the love of a lifetime poured into one day.

I had felt your kick,

Saw you make your mommy squirm and shout

I listened to your heart a dozen times:

Every time, there is a moment,
time stands still and the world is silent
waiting for you
waiting to hear your only sound
the beat of a heart not yet exposed to the world
Every time there is a moment of excitement and fear
anticipation and dread
The emotional spectrum exposed
while the universe waits to hear your beat.

So many times I heard it; every time, a sigh of relief
But not this day,

This day, the cosmos stay still.



I knew you,
your personality,
rambunctious and lively,
a monkey in mother's belly.

I felt you,
she felt you,
your kick,
your moves,
your life

Our son was real.
His life has consequence.