Blog Manifesto

Blog Manifesto


This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

disappointment.

if we didnt live in a world of expectations
there would be no disappointment

can you imagine a world with no disappointment?

i am disappointed that my dad, who is 66 i think.. im not doing the math right now.. basically lives his life out of his easy chair.  he tells me all his plans.. but never follows through.  he once told me, 'son.. if i ever get to be maudlin like my daddy, tell me.'  i did.  didnt do much good.  im disappointed.

im disappointed that my brother doesnt have a job.  has children he doesnt see.  doesnt pay child support.  wont pick himself up and live to his potential.  wont stop sucking off my dad.
all of which are my expectations.  im disappointed.

im disappointed that two of my students had to be yanked last minute from the competition this weekend.  an opportunity not to be passed up.  they didnt practice.  i am sorely disappointed.

there are very few people in my life that have NOT left some sort of bitter taste in my mouth..  the bitter taste of disappointment.  it's nauseating.

and so that makes me look very intensely at myself.

who am i to judge?  who am i to make assumptions that people are capable of more?  who am i to have expectations of others?  who am i really disappointed in?  me.

someone very dear to me said to be compassionate with myself.  i try every day to be more forgiving of myself.  this task is daunting.  and i fail.  surprisingly, i forgive myself this fail..  because the outcome is that i am still hard on myself.  disappointed.  no one could ever disappoint me as much as me, myself, and i.

maybe if i find the key to releasing myself from my own expectations.. i will find the release from disappointment i so desire. 

i dont want to be disappointed.  in me.  in others.
it is just plain unfair.

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