confession tuesday

I didn’t realize it had been a whole month since I posted until I looked at the date of my last post. Sad but true, I’ve been spending more time on my other blog. Actually, it’s not sad; I’ve written and posted a few poems, and even shared my first foray into open mic poetry reading. I’m realizing more and more as I’m looking for balance there’s an ebb and flow to where I spend my time, and I’m okay with it. So it may be a while in between poems. Or posts.


I’ve been reading poetry to inspire myself for NaPoWriMo (which is probably going to be posted on that other blog of mine). I’ve read One Stick Song and The Business of Fancydancing by Sherman Alexie, and now I’m in the middle of Vertabrae by Samuel Green, Washington’s first poet laureate. My anniversary present this year will be going to a workshop with Samuel Green on May 9th, which ought to be interesting so soon after the exhaustion of thirty poems in as many days.

I’d only read one poem by Sherman Alexie before now and am kicking myself that I missed out on hearing him do a reading at the local college last month. I had some excuse, some conflict for missing it: too many people, right in the middle of the kids’ bedtime, hadn’t read his poetry so I wasn’t prepared, something else but all of it lame. Kicking myself that I missed the chance to witness those powerful, agonizing words out loud.

Maya Angelou is next on my list after Green. I remember meeting her at a young writers conference at the University of Washington when I was an angsty fourteen-year old. Thinking I could understand what she was talking about in “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.” Silly little white teenage me. She was so gracious and gentle, but somehow steely at the same time. Saw right through me and still gave me the time of day.


Last night I left the dishes undone in the sink and I’m going to do it again tonight. Which is only remarkable because I actually did them the two nights previous after days, possibly weeks of not doing them before going to bed. I think I hate doing dishes because I had to do them as a kid and my dad would always stand over my shoulder and inspect my work. If I didn’t do a good enough job, I had to do them over. I’ve heard people say there’s a Zen to doing housework, the calm that comes with a simple job well done, but I’ve got a ways to go yet. Although I’m the first to admit I will probably find Zen washing dishes long before I do so scrubbing the toilet.


3 Responses to “confession tuesday”

  1. Glad you participated today. Where is your other blog? I hear you on the ebb and flow.

    Mine’s up

  2. Susan, I added links to my “chicklegirl” blog.

  3. Ooh, I’m a week behind on your confessions. Forgive me.

    Good luck with NaPoWriMo! We’ll be cheering you on!

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