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!

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

{[ Fooie on Fatigue ]}

Well as of about 11 am today I have been feeling tons of fatigue.
I've been staying away from the garage for two years straight.
Some contents stashed away that I get sick whenever I look at it.
Brown cardboard boxes stacked up way high, wrapped tightly in shinning silver duct tape.

I was made to do this task of opening each one of them alone today
to make room for new things..such as my dads '67 Chevelle Super Sport. That he has had my whole life. I had rather sit in that car and stare at the stearing wheel contimplating on driving it then opening up boxes.

So..I got off of the computer knowing what I was sure about to do.
Thought of someone dear to me the whole while as I slowly made my way out the door and to the garage. Breathing..the whole while. Stomache turning carwheels while I slipped past the car and the blazer in the driveway..

Tried to even hum a special little song that I'm working on for someone as I put the key in the door knob of the fairly newly built building. Dads new hood sitting on sawhorses in my way, had to move that. Dads sheets of plywood leaned against my..now two year old dusty boxes..had to move those.

I felt like busting into a river of tears when I grabbed for the first box. I knew right away what that box had in it. All of the paper work and important papers..even the lease to our very first home. I just want to keep it all forever..and now as I sit here and write Im fking fatigued...so screw this ..fatigue.
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1 comment:

  1. SharonMarch 20, 2012 at 5:35 PM

    I waited five years! Finally was able and fatigue free. Good luck. I feel your pain. Nice writing.

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