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 13, 2012

{[ Withhhhdraaww ]}

When I think of the word withdraw I see great big flashing red and blue lights.
I see a young kid in my old neigborhood that had a super hard childhood.
Still does I'm sure but I haven't seen him in a long time. About 2 yrs to be exact.
Sorta miss the little brat. Guess that sounds rough calling him a brat but he was.
His name was Logan.
Cute kid with red hair and freakles.
When me and ..Billy moved in I was afraid to talk to the people in the neighborhood.
I'm just like that at times with large groups. If ever a time theres more then
4 people I will run and hid under the sheets. Logan was a handful. Made sure to announce himself to me and Billy before I even had a chance to get Cameron out of the car seat and take him in our newly remodled place...god..I remember the smell of the paint still.I miss that place.
Billy opened the door to the place and there Logan ran straight in there from out of no where.
I looked at Billy, Billy looked at me in amusment. I remember laughing a little that a kid that didn't even know us would just invite himself in.
He was..nice for a while. Ha.
Days would go by and I finally let Cameron play with him. Of course after he repeatily knocked on the door hour after hour wanting someone to pester and play with. Cameron played with him under my close eye. I wouldn't dare let him just roam free without at least staring out a window or being outside near.
A day out of the blue Logan came over while Cameron was playing in his new..brand new swimming pool. Had his little tan plastic tot slide sitting in it so he could sliddddeee down into the water.
Logan jumped right in regualar clothes and all and slammed down on Cameron like he was a bean bag chair. Cameron started crying and Logan..well while I was trying to help Cameron Logan was face down in the water..convulsing. Uhh !! I freaked out and grabbed him, grabbed him and layed him flat on his back with his head to the side. Didn't know what was wrong with him..told Cameron to run to Logan's Grandmother and tell her that we needed emergency.
After she showed and called the ambulace I was releived.
Thank god my son was there to go get help for his ..friend. Thank god I was there to know how to help even if just a little.
Later on..after me and his grandmother had a long discussion she told me how his mother was a crack addict. Told me how he was to..being that his mother was that way when she was pregnant with him..
Logan did alot to piss me off when I lived there like..pushing Cameron in the gavel..tearing up my plants and my yard..stealing my money.
But..when I look back..I know the kid didn't have the right leadership and had a rough time so I delt with it and overcame that.
..like I should something else..
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1 comment:

  1. SharonMarch 14, 2012 at 10:48 AM

    The thoughts your story evoked were surprising. The desire to reach out to those needy souls is a part of me, too. And, sometimes, I am needy but don't help myself. Thank you for reminding me.

    ReplyDelete

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