(Okay, technically it was a year ago yesterday morning, but I couldn’t resist an ’80s-song reference.)
One year ago, I began this blog by telling you that I was a liar. (Update: I did become a Facebooker a few months ago. But I still have a plain old–emphasis on old– cell phone and no Twitter account– in other words, the crown and sash aren’t forthcoming.) As I mentioned, I’ve enjoyed getting back to my writerly ways, and I’m thrilled that there are people who seem to enjoy the results. (Yes, I have readers now! And commenters! And subscribers!) So, thank you, and the next time you come across an annoying word or phrase, I hope you’ll think of me.
When I was a kid, I always thought that I would feel older or different on my birthday. I never did. But in the five days since I turned 3 thir twenty-nine plus one, I have felt a slight difference. I kind of feel like I have an extra shadow trailing behind me, reminding me that time is marching swiftly on. Sadly, this shadow has done nothing to curb my recent addiction to Solitaire.
In exactly one month from today, I will be…well, no longer in my 20s. Now, I certainly don’t think that 30 is old, but it’s an age at which I feel that things, both personally and professionally, should be more settled than they are for me. And so I have come to think of this birthday as Scary Milestone No. 1™.
Halloween always makes me miss being a kid.
A few weeks ago, as I do occasionally, I was looking through a school memory book. It’s full of tests, report cards, drawings, and other assorted things (among them, a literal LOL-inducing letter to then-President Reagan), including a few poems, and since it’s been so poetry-centric around here lately (ahem, when I’ve posted), I thought it would be cute (and hopefully not self-indulgent) to post one of my ‘early works.’ It’s from June 2, 1988; I was just about to turn 8 1/2:
Funny, creative, smart
Writing, drawing, walking
Mostly my bed. And also, for a few hours Wednesday night/early Thursday morning, the E.R., after I briefly passed out. Yeah, I’m sick. And bored (whoever thought sleep would lose its charms?). And feeling rather isolated.
With all the poems I’ve posted lately, you might think me a long-time poet, but honestly, I have never written as much poetry as I have here, not even at the height of my creative-writing period (a.k.a. elementary school/early junior high). In fact, I haven’t done this much writing, period, since then. I’m pleased to settle back into this long-neglected, but still comfortable, space.
Returning to my writerly ways is, I think, beneficial for me. I’m someone who’s not very comfortable revealing her innermost thoughts, and while you can see that I haven’t done much of that here, the fact that I’m letting little bits and pieces peek through is a good thing, as is the joy I find in, as I like to say, ‘crafting sentences.’