I’ve been thinking a lot about being creative recently. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve been lacking. I’m a little ashamed at myself.
I’m trying to think of a place to keep my poetry. Part of me wants to upload it here, have it visible to all. But my poetry is something that I rarely share. It… frightens me. Because it is me. Pieces, sure, here and there. It was hard enough to go through that poetry class. And… it seems like the class did more harm than good? I’m not good with praise. And it surprises me when I received it. And… after the praise I received from the professor and the other students… I haven’t written much poetry since then. I guess I write better when I think I’m bad at it.
NaNoWriMo is coming up again. That’s what started it. I’m trying to decide if I’m going to attempt it again.
I’ve got a bunch of long mostly-written posts that I should be finishing. There’s a post about the trip through BC from August. A short blurb about my dad’s birthday. Another short blurb about the family trip to the CNE. A piece about my new cousin Kian, who was born Sept 1. A quick piece about my sister’s birthday, and meeting cousin Kian. Something about our trip to Indiana for the Christening of the twins for the Thanksgiving weekend. A bunch of half-written posts that I just can’t make myself finish.
I’m nervous and scared about getting my eyes checked on Friday. Admitting it outloud doesn’t make it any less scary. I’m not prepared to hear what he might say. Hearing it once was hard enough. It shattered me the last time. I don’t know if I can pick up the pieces a second time.
Obviously I’ve wandered off track. My brain is non-linear. Time for random poetry writing and sleep. Hopefully sleep anyway.