Purple Backpackin' Blues
Yesterday morning I hustled my way into the creative writing class at breakneck speed dragging my backpack with my yoga mat haphazardly protruding rather awkwardly, to read some of my scribblings to this semester's class ( my daughter 's in the class currently) .
The Good News:
the professor heard several poems he liked as I was reading.
So I get to submit 3 more poems for the fall issue of the lit mag.
*Yay*
The Bad News :
the classroom was quiet and fairly unresponsive as I read. Except the high wattage smile of my pigtailed daughter encouraging me .
A soldier had gone before me and had been talking about Iraq ( he had a letter home that had been printed in the magazine ) , and before him a gal in my class from last semester had read a wedding themed script.
I got a few isolated laughs during my reading , but mostly and jarringly for the first time ever I heard a yawn .
They looked quite glazed over ... like donuts in a greasy cardboard box...
Steff told me that it was circumstance ( I was at the end of a two hour class) and after war stories , the mood was just so down.
I tried to show a wide sampling of my work, how I take mental snapshots of my day , or use just a stray thought and turn it into words.
The different topics one can find to express oneself are staggering.
It doesn't have to be weighty thoughts , and universal themes .
Maybe I should have been first to read and set the tone ...
I am so spoiled, aren't I though?
I guess I have been so lucky in so far as I am fairly new at this writing gig and have met with so much success.
Not everyone will get "me".
Not everyone knows the pain I still live with plus the fight to keep myself laughing and not crying or hiding.
Oh, I promised myself I would never use Tom's death to excuse everything that's happened since, and there I go doing it.
After this mini-fiasco ,we hightailed it over to yoga class , and as I lay on the gym floor on my purple yoga mat in "corpse pose"for what seemed like an eon , while pondering the strange material that covers the gym ceiling , trying not to wiggle my freshly peach glittered toenails .
I thought about how I use to hate gyms. Horrific memories of gym classes and humiliation danced through my mind's eye.
My gluts & tummy are in a lot of pain today from repeated " chair" and "down dog", but I am slowly blasting my old hate of gyms to smithereens.
Steff and I have been doing yoga on and off for almost 2 years , and that helps alot.
The only things I dislike about the class are:
A) bare feet ( the consistency of the gym floor is *eew*)
B) the sheer amount of younger , firmer bodies with no real time trails
on them yet
C)The corny slogans & new agey buzz words she says to you as you get into various poses
My pulse was a nice 80 beats per minute afterwards , so maybe despite a few annoyances ...
I am onto to something here.
The afternoon was capped off by this lady I try to avoid , talking my ear off for nearly 2 hours.
I am too d*mn friendly looking .
She talks about my issues maybe 5% of the "conversation".
No reading, no music ,no philosophical thinking or writing for me just "jabber, jabber", smile ,frown , and get three words in edgewise .
She sucks my energy like a vampire.
This poor lady has a multitude of problems( medical issues, abusive boyfriend, weed smoking kids & boyfriend), and I get so depressed after a "session" with her , I realize I am very happy I never pursued counseling as a career.
She always says ,"I love talking to you. You are so nice."
I am a gutless wonder that can't bare to tell her to leave me alone .
I just know I will see her again tomorrow.