I was having trouble deciding what to write about for this week. I did want to write something, so I turned to the ever trusty Google and I found this page with 365 blog posts prompts. I skimmed through them and found these:
28. Write a poem of any style.
29. Write a haiku.
30. Write a sonnet.
31. Write about your first crush.
When I was in high school I wrote poetry like it was just as natural as breathing. For most of the 4 year stint I was not in a good place, not really understanding anything about my bipolar, I started drinking, fell in love (very long story involving affairs, dating/not dating, feeling inadequate – basically full on teenage
angst), made friends and mistakes, and all of it just felt so much. I had such turbulent mood swings that I didn’t even know what was happening half the time. I would be out having a great time bowling with the group, then suddenly be in tears without anyone being able to make me feel better. I had no other way of really expressing myself, so I wrote poetry, most of it still to this day has never been laid eyes on by anyone aside from myself. Carving my feelings was the only relief I got from feeling things too much, whether it was into my skin with whatever was sharp enough within hands reach, or onto paper with a pen.
Mostly I wrote about unrequited love, go figure, and a lot was melodramatic observations about why humans can’t seem to be good at humanity, which is a word we, as a species, invented, but have to concept of. Like why can’t people be decent and kind and understanding of those around them; why and when did it become necessary to point out and criticize other’s downfalls or differences? I genuinely don’t understand it.
As I started to get older, and with my birth control helping to level me out, I realized I didn’t really feel like I had to write anymore, and when I did feel like writing it was horrible and uninspired. It was like I was unable to be inspired by anything but the darkness within myself and no matter what, I wasn’t able to find the same sort of inspiration on the opposite side of the spectrum. A few times I even tried to make myself upset so that I could write. Needless to say that really didn’t go so well! As the years went on and my moods started to get more unstable again (go figure a body’s chemical makeup changes over time! What!?) I started to get the itch to write again. It took me some time (embarrassingly too much time) to figure out that the itch to write was a symptom of my angst and mental state. It wasn’t until years later that I tried to harness that “power” (for lack of a better word) and use it to my advantage. Like with many of the other symptoms of my bipolar, certain things can be used for the greater good. When I’m manic and not able to sleep, I clean or reorganize things or come up with grand plots and dead-end business ideas; when I’m in a dark mood I write or morbidly daydream, when I’m not sleeping. Knowing what I know now, and being acutely aware of my moods, I try (when I’m able to) to use whatever mood I’m in for something productive, even if it’s just taking care of myself, because that is equally, if not more, important than taking care of any/everything else.
Back to the topic of poetry, I did actually get published in some school stuff, and a website, I think it was called poetry.com, but I’m not sure if it’s even around anymore. (I literally just spent 20 minutes Googling to try to find it so I could post some of my old stuff on here!) Now I’m more into finding more and more creative ways to write prose (if that’s even what this style of writing could be called…keeping on being interrupted like it is; I’d like to think I might have actually invented something new! haha)
But as the prompt prompts, here is a haiku and a sonnet:
Sitting here at home
Wondering what’s going on
And then it hits me.
I don’t know what to write about.
So I just sit here and type,
trying to dispel my doubt
not thinking of all the hype.
Not going for Iambic Pentameter,
just writing what the hell ever I want.
I wish I could be more of an influential leader,
but I fear that’s more of a daunt.
So I am sitting here, trying to write,
thinking of what might be something fun;
I’d like a little time in the limelight,
but that may cause me to become undone.
So, until the times comes that I’m famous,
I will just sit here eating Famous Amos.
And there we have it folks, I wrote a pseudo stream of conscious (which is a form of poetry), I wrote a Haiku, and a modern Sonnet, and I briefly mentioned a former crush/love of my life. So, that’s this blog post finished. 4 blog prompts, 1 blog post. Score me!
Always buck the system friends; love you awesome nerds!