Honestly

I am an optimist. I look for the good in every day. I strive for positivity.

Lately, I have struggled to stay optimistic, see the good, and stay positive.

So, I haven't blogged.

My blog is supposed to be a happy place, a positive space. Why infect it with my struggle? Why subject all of you to my darker places?

I believe there is good in everything, that is why. Maybe if I am honest with myself and with all of you, something good will come out of it.

Honestly?

I am three classes and a thesis away from earning my bachelor's degree. I don't know if I want to continue.

After a year in therapy, I stopped going at the beginning of August. I now realize I need it even if it feels like I am going nowhere or wandering in circles some of the time.

I am unsure about everything these days. At least a few tears fall every day.

Still, the optimist in me still gets me up and out of bed every morning with a "Keep trying and it will get better."

Honestly.

Poetry Prodigies

Across from my house is a middle school full of eager young minds. A couple of days ago, I learned that those eager young minds have some phenomenal teachers.

Lining the sidewalks outside of the school, there is student poetry written in chalk.

I think this is a brilliant idea. It builds student confidence in their work. It expands students' ideas of what school, classroom, and learning are. It challenges students to think about what art is. I just love the concept.

Of course, I took photos of this art installation. They will follow in posts of their own.

Kudos to the students and the teachers!

Crunch Time

So, my last day of school is Wednesday and I am crazy with end of semester work. I probably won't be back to blogging until Thursday or Friday.

In the meantime, you are invited to check out one of my final projects:
A Nature Journal

Have a wonderful week and I will catch up with you all on Thursday!

Blasted Busy-ness

I am so busy this semester! I had no idea how much interning at Teen Voices two full days a week was going to impact my leisure time. I miss blogging every day. I miss having the free time to devote to it, to just thinking about what is going on in my life, in my mind and writing it all out.

Instead I am writing papers, editing articles, fact-checking, interviewing magazine writers and authors, and reading lots of books (currently: Little House on the Prairie and Where the Girls Are). Plus that whole having a husband and keeping up with the housework thing.

I miss you all so much and I refuse to give up on finding the time to write and interact with all of you. Please don't give up on me. xoxo

Work From Home

With all the crazy snow, Mr. B&B will be working from home today. Side by side in the office we will toil together which will either be motivating or completely distracting. It will be nice to have him home, but I do have a routine and it bugs me a bit to have it messed with. Selfish, I know and I can't believe I'm feeling it.

Mondays and Fridays are my "Work from Home" days. Fridays are the days when I get the big house chores done like laundry and sweeping and dusting in addition to the normal light housework. When those things are done, it is homework time. Mondays are the normal light housework like bed-making and dishes before sitting down to homework with near zero distractions all day. This particular Monday I have one paper that needs to be completed and two papers that need editing before I can turn them in tomorrow and Wednesday. That makes today an intense homework day. I just hope Mr. B&B is more of a motivator than a distraction.

Wait a minute... I think Mr. BandB feels the same way about me. He just asked me where I will be working today. "Why?" I asked. "Because if you are working in the office, I will find another place to work." Too funny...

Silent Cooperation

Walking to class yesterday I came to a crosswalk where one person was waiting to cross. The walk light had not come on when I arrived at the crosswalk but I peered around the bus parked there to see if any cars were coming. The person who had been waiting followed suit and we crossed together. Silent cooperation.

My class ended early yesterday, but a few of us stuck around to continue our discussion about the film we watched. Slowly people filtered out until it was just me, the professor, and one other student. As I silently moved toward the door to leave, both of them followed me out of the classroom, down the stairs, and into the open air where we each went our separate ways. Silent cooperation.

Near the station where I pick up the bus to go home there are two crosswalks mere feet from each other at a very large three way intersection. Big groups of people were waiting at both of them when I arrived. The people at the other intersection began crossing and the group I was standing in followed suit. Silent cooperation.

Human nature is fascinating.

In Tune

These birds were singing outside my back door this afternoon. I think it is so easy to forget that we are animals, too. We are a part of nature. Sure, I recycle and use eco-friendly ice melt and compost and use eco-friendly soaps and cleaning products. That isn't the same as being in tune with the natural world around you and taking time to really observe it closely. Especially living so close to Boston, it is easy for me to pass by the natural miracles occurring every day.

Part of my grade in my Changing Views of Nature in American Literature class is to be out observing nature for 20 minutes a day, twice a week. I went out into my tiny paved backyard edged with plants and trees and bordered by the park on one side at 4:00 this afternoon. I took photos first and then set my camera aside and sat in my beach chair watching and feeling the sun on my face and listening to the birds chirping and the snow melting.

I went up to the trees and felt their bark and their leaves and their needles. I looked inside the dried brown flowers on the Rose of Sharon and found fuzzy seeds or space where they used to be. I noted where the sun was in the sky and where and why the southeast corner of the yard is still slick with ice.

I thought about Spring which is so much nearer than it seems. Soon the snow will melt and seep into the earth feeding the trees at their roots. The sun will rise higher in the sky and everything will turn green.

Crazy Class

My class was awesome today! Had my pants and shoes been dry, it would have been slightly better. Ridiculous precipitation and calf high puddles made that an impossibility.

The class is a mix of adult students and traditional undergraduate students. For my school, the class is HUGE, 23 students enrolled. It will be interesting. With so many people in the class, some of them are bound to talk and be willing to share their ideas which makes a class for me. I thrive on the exchange of thoughts and ideas.

My professor is also my adviser in general and my adviser for my Teen Voices Independent Study. So, we will be spending lots of time together. Luckily, I really like her as a professor and a person.

The class is a 5000 level course (graduate level) and should be challenging.
In 14 weeks we:
read 7 books
write two 4-5 page reflective papers on 2 required reading books of own choosing
write one 6-8 page paper on one required reading book of own choosing
2 days a week go observe nature for 20 minutes and write a nature journal entry
On Earth Day, go to a related event and write a one page paper about the experience

Bring it on!

Changing Views of Nature

My Changing Views of Nature in Literature course begins today. I am really looking forward to it. 4:00 - 6:30 spent with like-minded individuals soaking up knowledge.

I'll be braving the changing views of nature outside my window to get there.

Sign Me Up!

Just in the nick of time, I signed up for Spring Semester classes last night. Yes, last night, thanks to my adviser clearing me for on-line registration. Classes start on Monday.

I am turning my Teen Voices time into an independent study for three credits.

My other class is Changing Views of Nature in American Literature which meets on Wednesday from 4-6:30 (Yippee for being home for dinner with the Mr.). We will be comparing the Native American view of nature with the dominant cultural view of nature. I am psyched (did I really just type "psyched"? Bringin' it back old school...) to read Emerson, Thoreau, Whitman, Faulkner...

(swoon and sigh)

and to be exposed to more Native American oral tradition/folk tales/literature.

Does anyone else remember reading the Tomie DePaola versions of Native American folktales? The Legend of the Bluebonnet was my favorite! He also wrote The Legend of the Indian Paintbrush and The Legend of the Poinsettia.

I'm pretty sure Tomie DePaola's books won't be on the reading list, but I look forward to reading whatever is.

Free Your Mind

and the rest will follow. So say En Vogue in this song on YouTube. Also a so-sayer and believer in such philosophy,my poetry professor.

On Thursday, during our one-on-one meeting, I asked my poetry professor what one thing I could do to improve my writing. She told me to free-write poetry every day. In her opinion, which I agree with, my biggest weakness is that I think too much when I am writing instead of freeing my mind to go where it wishes and just being the vehicle through which it flows. After looking through my notebook and realizing how often I cross things out and self-edit, Professor suggested I do all my free-writing on the computer so that I do not have the option of crossing out. She told me it is her belief that if I do that I will find at least two or three usable lines a day.

Today I took her advice and this was the result:

Morning tonight feels like waking up to broken glass of shattered window panes. French doors open to English men wearing tweed coats and smoking ciggies. Signs of forced entry lay shimmering in the grass all rainbowy with dew. Was it you coming to steal me away in the night? If you asked I might have gone. Gone from the relative safety of my existence to the windiness of yours. Possibility appeals to me in fleeting moments of temporary sanity. Brokenness is old hat, but there’s got to be something behind that. Walk through it and reach for the light of the lamppost glowing like the moon and stitch me up, lift me up, talk me out of it and in to you. Sleepless sounds of strength emerging as we’re converging verging on reckless. You open a book and fill up with wonder and tear it asunder. Under the words lies the truth. Eat up the inky stains and spit out the blank page to write it all anew. Few resist the urge to abandon truth for greatness. Greed is not in your verbiage. Invisible fingerprints dust the sills of broken windows seeking solace. Tonight morning is found on distant shores where we might have been and might be going, racing time, holding on to moments slipping along the seams of the globe out witting the light of lesser gods. Stars stretch languidly across your face as you become one, a celestial body among celestial bodies. Bodies are piling up, but souls are floating free suspended between truth and humanity. Flight is folly and you fancy me a fool, a high compliment from you. I lay above you and sink below wallowing in weightless wonderment over it and under it singing soundlessly watching the airwaves ripple into dawn. Over breakfast all appears unmatched apples and pears. Swiftly moving songbirds are singing outside and I let them in to feast on leftover bits of peanut butter toast. Out in the barn I sew with a needle in a haystack.

I think there might be a tiny nugget of truth in all this "free your mind" business...

Farewell Fellow Poets

Poetry class came to an end last night. I already miss it. I miss giving and receiving feedback. I miss the unique voices. I miss the professor. I miss the teasing and the laughter. I just miss all of it and everyone.

Last night I gave everyone a tiny notebook. Inside each notebook was a personal note to each of them and my contact information. I hope they keep in touch.

Andrew, Carrie, Davy, Jan, Lucien, Sam... If you happen to visit my little corner of the blog world, don't be shy, leave me a little hello. Oh, and really, a big thank you to each of you for making this semester an amazing one for me. Each of you is an inspiration to me and I hope you keep in touch. I'll miss reading your work.

Nothing, but love, admiration, and respect <3

James Tate

James Tate is a poet we studied in my poetry class last week. As an exercise, we used Tate's The Wrong Way Home as inspiration for a five minute writing exercise.

The fruits of my five minute labor:

All morning a kite flew toward the sun.
It tried to forget the stillness waiting below,
the basements and backseats in which it was stuck
passing time 'til others brought it to life,
whooping & hollering, unraveling its lines
running and whooping & hollering 'til the
wind ran out of their sails,
the kite barely hovering above the land
it would inevitably be dragged across,
bedraggled.
The kite was a frame of idealized images
that fade
with time,
a frame of reference
set free
to burn.

Amazing how much can be accomplished in five minutes. Let me know what you might accomplish in five minutes! So much possibility...

Argyle tights across a crowded bus

She is obvious on the busy bus
All red hair on green dress
All argyle tights and ballet flats with bows on the toes
She crosses her legs at the ankle
Plugs into her iPod
Lolls her head back against the window
Closes her eyes
Effectively shutting out the world

She is striking in her simplicity
Strategically placed bobby pins
Hold pin straight hair
Off her face
Exposing a clear complexion
Contrary to her freckled hands

She has forgotten to zip the satchel on her lap
Brown leather on tan linen
Lays open its bruised purple lining
Threatening to explode
all the secrets
stored inside

She hears the announcement
“Kimble Road”
uttered by the impersonal electronic lady
and rises up
Her green dress falling to her knees
Her red hair filling the hood
lying lazily against her back

In profile
She is fragile
Soft of face
Slight of frame
Slim freckled fingers worrying silver necklace
As she slips safely through the crowd
Sliding out the doors
Into wide open spaces
Unknown

Nienie, Poetry and Beauty

As evidenced by my less frequent posts, there are lots of things competing for my time now that school has started. I think of and pray for NieNie, Christian, the children, and their families every day, frequently several times a day. Since I suddenly find myself so busy, I have decided to write a Grateful post once a week. Grateful posts will appear every WedNieNie'sDay. Why Wednesday? Well, it is the middle of the week and I think we all need a pick me up when Wednesday rolls around and looking at the good in our lives can provide that pick me up. So, WedNieNie'sDay it is!

Poetry class was tonight. We talked about the work of Louise Gluck. Wild Iris is the poem we looked at most closely. After Gluck, we critiqued the poetry of our peers.

My piece:

He sits on his front stoop
still and alone
in the dark
letting the night settle on his skin
Resting his elbows on his knees,
his head in his hands
He collects his thoughts
then empties them from his mind
one by one
As the cars go by
one by one
Soothing him with their steady hum
Their sound the only confirmation of motion
in his otherwise stagnant world
The Man in the Moon shines down on him
and he lifts his eyes from the crack in the pavement
long enough to bathe in the light
allowing himself the danger of dreaming
of something bigger waiting
for him beyond the stoop

Comments include:
eliminate last two lines
Man in the Moon doesn't work for me (many people said this)
break this piece into stanzas
play with punctuation
great sounds at beginning of poem
like the line "letting the night settle on his skin" (many liked this)
"one by one as the cars go by" gives sense of sound, nice
nicely rendered situation
breaks at the beginning gives reader time to settle into poem
love "danger of dreaming", strong line (many said this)
strong ending
strong lines, "lifts his eyes... bathe in the light"
want to know more about "him"

In sharing poetry with others I see that no matter the level of skill, we each have a distinct voice, are developing strong voices. Being in a room full of fellow poets is powerful for me and a privilege because these people are opening themselves up to me through their poetry. I think that poems reveal so much of the interior of the poet and to be trusted with that is such an honor. I feel like my words are sounding shallow, but I am sincere and wish I could express it in another way.

Beauty. This evening I was walking to catch the bus to school when a man, a complete stranger, walking toward me looked at me, said "You are beautiful" and kept walking. I said "Thank you" and kept walking. A bit baffling as I am wearing my glasses, my hair is poofy from the moisture in the air, etc. Also, I don't really think of myself as beautiful; I feel I somewhat blend in until I open my mouth and speak; I think my voice, ideas, and intellect bring me alive and set me apart and make me beautiful more so than my looks. I was also surprised by how easily and casually I accepted the compliment. Where does my confidence come from? How much of a role does confidence play in one's beauty? The man brought a smile to my face and gave me lots to think about. Thank you, Complete Stranger Man!

On that note, Good Night!

Finding My Voice

Last night was my first Contemporary Poetic Voice class of the semester. There are six of us in the class which I think is ideal for the work we are going to be doing. If the class was much bigger it would be more difficult to read and discuss everything in depth AND workshop/critique each person's poems. Yes, homework is to write one poem per week and bring it in for critique. Scary, but not so scary in a smaller, more intimate group like we, thankfully, have.

The first thing Carrie, our professor, asked us to write about was why we write. Surprisingly, this is something I have never really thought about until she asked.
Why I Write (the Top Ten List Version)
1. I can't remember a time when I didn't
2. It helps me get to know myself better
3. It will make me a better editor, I believe
4. It teaches me things I didn't know I knew
5. It brings me peace and clarity
6. It challenges me
7. It is something I can leave behind in hopes my descendants will know me
8. When I write it makes me happy
9. To keep my imagination and the five year old inside me alive
10. To become better at it and more aptly express myself in all forms. Plus, writing is sexy ;-)

We were also asked to write a poem in class inspired by a poem we read in class by Brigitte Byrd titled "Enlightenment" from her book "Fence Above The Sea". She is awesome, by the way. Her poems are prose poems which I have never really been exposed to before, but which I instantly loved. My poem inspired by hers:
She sits like a butterfly lights on a flower. Just a wisp in the wind in the night. Whims cause whispers but what do whispers know of whims. Slim to none but her self knows dreams without limit. Immense expanses beckon. No destination, just destiny. A whiff of perfume takes flight.

Rest assured there will be more poems coming and hopefully better ones at that.

Quick Shout Out

Last Fall I took a class called Digital Photography for Beginners. My professor told us he loved taking pictures of dogs and was working on a dog park book with a few other people. He told us if we were interested we could check out his blog. I did, but I haven't looked at it in awhile. Then, today, I decided to check out Blogger's blogs of note for the past few days and it turns out my professor's blog was named a blog of note a few days ago! You can check it out here if you are interested. Congrats, Phaird!

Facing Math Fears

This semester I am taking two classes. Language of Math meets Monday nights from 6:45 to 9:15. Contemporary Poetic Voice meets Tuesday nights from 6:45 to 9:15. During the day I am getting a jump start on writing my thesis which I will need to complete in order to receive my degree in my individual-designed major, Publishing.

I am so looking forward to my Contemporary Poetic Voice class tonight! Writing and reading are things that I LOVE to do, am passionate about, and do pretty well and quite frequently. But, Math... Well, Math and I are more complicated...

You see, Math and I got along pretty well at the beginning of our relationship. My Mom introduced us when I was very small by hanging numbers on the wall of my playroom underneath the letters of the alphabet. As I grew she taught me the names of the numbers and how to count. Then one summer day Mrs. DeLorenzo came to visit. Turns out she was going to be my kindergarten teacher at a place called school which she assured me would be glorious. She was just stopping by to meet me and get to know me a little because we would soon be seeing each other every day, except for weekends. During our visit Math came up in conversation. I showed Mrs. DeLorenzo the numbers on the wall and told her their names. She seemed pleased that we both knew Math and I had a feeling she and I would learn more about Math together during kindergarten at the glorious place called school. And she and I did. When Mrs. D. and I learned all we could about Math together she passed Math and I off to Mrs. Long and Mrs. Long to Mrs. Skiber and Mrs. Skiber to Mrs. Wood and Mrs. Wood to Mrs. Burbine. With the guidance of these amazing teachers, Math and I grew to, well, love each other really. Addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division were all part of Math's lovely makeup. With the encouragement of these fine women, I had found shortcuts into Math's heart and begun to perfect my ability to recognize Math's silly tricks. When I look back on our time in Elementary School I recognize it as our heyday and feel a longing stir somewhere deep within me. Little did Math and I know, but our love was about to be tested.

When I went to Middle School I brought Math with me. In the beginning we really liked it there. We had a few challenges, but we seemed to be making it through o.k. And then I had to leave the Middle School we'd just begun attending and move to a new one. In the madness of this unexpected, hasty move, Math and I got kind of twisted up and torn apart. Math didn't want to move. Math was happy where we were together and wanted to keep going at the same pace we'd been going with the same teacher who'd been guiding us. I tried to explain to Math that I didn't have a choice about leaving, but I really wanted us to stay together whatever it took. We were at an impasse in our relationship so we decided to give each other a little space, but it was harder to be apart than we expected.

Much to my delight, when I arrived at my new middle school Math was there waiting for me. Reunited and it felt so good. Unfortunately, that feeling was short lived. It soon seemed wildly apparent that in the month that Math and I were apart Math and Mrs. B had been seeing each other and moving ahead without me. This is where things got tricky. I felt betrayed by Math. How dare Math find Mrs. B. so quickly after his and my choice to give each other a little space and how could he feel so ready to move forward without me! Math thought it wasn't a big deal. He and Mrs. B were just hanging out and now that he and I were back together we could all hang out together. He convinced me that he and Mrs. B. were just friends. I still didn't like it and I felt so left behind and always trying to catch up in our conversations. I wanted to stay with Math and work on our relationship and learn and grow together because part of me still loved him, but things just didn't feel the same after the incident. We both knew there was something missing, that our relationship just didn't feel the same, so we decided to just be friends. From 6th through 12th grade we kept up an awkward, tumultuous friendship at best. Our best times were had in 9th grade. It was our freshman year in high school, certainly we could let bygones be bygones and start fresh. Mrs. Pepin, the Algebra teacher, helped Math and I make great progress and I even thought Math and I might get back together, but it was not to be. The next three years, especially the Geometry part, divided us more than ever and after graduation Math and I never saw each other again.

In the intervening years Math crept into my mind every once in awhile like when I was playing bills, buying groceries, or when I heard someone had had a new baby and was assured that the baby had all of it's fingers and toes. I wondered if Math ever occasionally thought of me.

Well, last night, Math and I ran into each other. We were a bit shy and awkward at first, but he invited me to sit at his table with him and 7 of his friends and I accepted. It was surprisingly easy to be with him again and before I knew it two and a half hours flew by. Listening to Math and his friends talk I learned lots of things about Math that I never knew and I began to realize that maybe part of the reason why our relationship didn't last was because I knew so little about Math's past. Really, when we met he just presented himself like "here i am. this is me. this is what I'm made of", but we never talked about how he came to be who and what he was. After last night, I am intrigued about his past, about his origins. Math asked me to join him and his friends again next week. I told him I'd be there. Maybe if I could learn more about Math's beginnings he and I could have a future together. Here's hoping!

Month in Recap

My resolution to blog at least once a week has lapsed this past month, but I have a lot to talk about! I met one of my greatest inspirations in person, my grandfather passed away, I picked my classes for this coming semester at school, and I have applied for various intern opportunities.

First, one of my greatest inspirations, Delaune Michel, was at Jabberwocky Books in Newburyport, Massachusetts on July 25, signing and reading from her second novel, The Safety of Secrets. It is a beautiful, funny, emotion evoking, deceivingly fast-paced book that I read in less than 24 hours because I was incapable of putting it down. I was introduced to Delaune's work a year ago when I took a summer class in Contemporary Literature and we read her first novel, Aftermath of Dreaming. After we read the book, Delaune agreed to have a discussion with all of us via conference call. She was so interesting and demonstrative and giving of herself and her time that I wrote her a thank you email. She replied and we have emailed occasionally since then. Hearing her read (a true treat as she has a background in acting as well) and meeting her in person was a dream come true. She was even more lovely then I imagined, taller, too. I find her so inspirational not only because of her writing, but because she is such a grounded individual, so genuine, started out in one career and ended up in another, raises her two boys while writing, and just seems so balanced and sure of who she is and comfortable in her own skin. I just can't adequately describe or pinpoint exactly what it is about her, but she is a fantastic writer, a fantastic person, and you must pick up her novels as soon as possible. A link to her blog can be found in the Notable Blogs section of this blog.
Oh, she also created Spoken Interludes www.spokeninterludes.com and has her own website www.delaunemichel.com, both of which you can access from her blog.

My grandfather passed away at the age of 87 in his sleep, free of pain, with two of his children sitting by his bed. We all have to go eventually and I think this was close to the best way one could pass. He was healthy and cognizant up to the end. Neither my brother nor I shed any tears. My brother, who is 21 years old, was feeling badly about this and asked me, "Should we be sad? Is there something wrong with us?" I told him that I don't believe there is anything wrong with us. I told him Grampy lived a long life and died a peaceful death which we should be celebrating and giving thanks for. So, my brother and I stood by the river outside the funeral home telling Grampy stories and sharing memories which I think was a good thing. Grampy was a thinker, a tinkerer, a man who opened his home and his heart to those in need, and whose laugh never failed to incite laughter from those around him. He will always be remembered by those who knew him and those who loved him. Thank you for all you taught me by word and example, Grampy. Godspeed.

In the wake of death, life continues to lumber on. School starts very soon and I have picked my classes, but not yet signed up for them. I am trying to reach my adviser which has proved difficult. Why I have left all this to the last minute I am not quite sure, but I must say the summer has moved way too quickly for my liking. My plan is to take Adult Learning Division classes only, not traditional undergrad courses. I have also decided that going part-time instead of full-time would be advantageous as last semesters five course course-load proved too much of a challenge. I picked two classes, The Language of Math and a course on writing for newspapers. I have also applied for various internships and, if I am chosen, I would like to get credit for the internship work. If only I could reach my adviser... and if only someone would at least interview me for an internship position...

Applying for internships is different than applying for jobs. The resume and cover letter content are different. What potential employers are looking for seems much more mysterious to me. I wonder if my being an adult student helps or hinders my chances of procuring an internship position, if my experience in the workforce and in life helps or hinders my chances, if the tone of my cover letter is too serious, if not being able to get an internship so far means I won't be able to get a job when I finish my degree, and, finally, if the fact that I have not heard back from anyone means that I have taken my life in the wrong direction. That is a lot of ifs. So, I keep searching, keep applying, and wait.

So, that is me. That is what has been keeping me away. Any questions?

Vacation

My husband was on vacation last week and I was at my nanny job on Wednesday and Thursday which left me little time for writing. It was wonderful to spend time with my husband though and awfully difficult to say good-bye when he went off to work this morning.

My husband is a "car guy." He loves driving them, changing his own brakes, cleaning his wheels, racing them, and watching other people race them. This brings me to this past week during which we spent three days at New Hampshire Motor Speedway and one evening watching demolition derby at Brockton Fair. Being a writer, no matter where I am, I am always looking for stories and inspiration for stories. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy motorsports, but four days of car activities in one week... a lot. So, I observed people and let my mind wander. At Nascar in New Hampshire there were so many 'characters': a man in a bathingsuit, the Indian couple with their young son all decked out in Dale Jr. merchandise, the two Asian couples, the man with a long red ponytail and a bottle full of a vodka/redbull mix, the ladies with their tanktop and bra straps folded into their tanks so they didn't get tanlines on their shoulders, and all of this within three rows of me! If I can't come up with any material from all of that, how can I call myself a writer? The Brockton Fair was interesting because it is like stepping into a time warp and it brings out all of the kooky people. I was also fascinated by the animals in the petting zoo, for sale, putting on a show (elephants, camels, ponies), to ride (ponies), and racing (pigs). I wanted to set them all free. I think I could write a childrens book with the premise of a little girl or boy wanting to free the animals at the fair and imagining what would happen if she/he did OR write a short story from the perspective of the animals OR write a story where the animals are in charge and the people are racing, in a zoo, for sale, and putting on shows. Inspiration is everywhere.
_________

I officially applied to the Lesley University Writers Conference. It starts on July 27th, so I should be hearing back soon. Waiting is the pits, but I am trying to think positively in the meantime. I appreciate any positive energy you might send my way.
_________

I have been noticing more traffic and returning traffic to my blog the past few weeks. Thank you for reading!