Write A Poem, Read A Poem

April is National Poetry Month! There's only 5 days left so I am going to fill those days with poems I love, poems I wrote, and poems I haven't met yet. I feel like people don't write poetry anymore, just like people don't write letters anymore. We always used to read poems in school and I remember having to write them in middle school. I even have the first official one I wrote. I wrote a lot back them, and then I stopped. Sometimes they come out though and I like it. I like being able to reread them and remember the day, or how I was feeling or what made me write it. I have things written all over the place, in notebooks, in the Notes of my phone, on scraps of paper, it's pretty insane.

So in honor of National Poetry Month...

Here's one I just found that I wrote last February:

The whole world's sleeping
And I wish you were here.
Standing in the darkness
with a smoke swirl and a can of beer.
It was always so quiet,
But it's quieter alone.
The stars don't seem the same,
and I wonder if this is my home.

The whole world's under water
But I can hear you so clear.
Swimming in the darkness
with beams of light streaking near.
I was always so confused,
And yet this is still true.
There seems to be something missing,
And I wonder if it's you.

I can't decide if I'm Me with you
Or if I'm Me without you.
Ones not worse than the other
but both have a darkening fear.
Its different sometimes,
Sometimes it's the same.
But the stars don't seem the same,
And I wonder who's to blame.


Here's a couple of my favorites:

Sonnet XXXVI

Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain,
Without thy help, by me be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect,
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which though it alter not love's sole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame,
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
But do not so, I love thee in such sort,
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
~ William Shakespeare



The Road Not Taken
By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


HAPPY POETRY MONTH!

Have You Checked The Data Yet??

The worst thing that could happen to an overanalyzing, overthinking perfectionist is….making the wrong decision. It’s earth shattering…to those people...not to me….because that doesn’t describe me...at…all. We think and we plan and we construct all the worst case scenarios. Then we go back and get expert opinions and analyze the data. And finally, we go over everything again until our brain is going to explode and we choose. And then we learn that we chose wrong.

So in a panicked frenzy, we go back to our data. We go over it and over it, shaking our heads “No, no, this can’t be right. I CAN'T be wrong!” But we are. Because no matter how solid our data is, there are other factors out of our control--people, events---things that don’t have anything to do with ourselves and our immediate airspace. Things and people who haven’t read the data, and if only they asked, you would’ve gladly shared it with them.

It’s one thing to be a fly by the seat of your pants type of impulsive person. The ones who decide on a whim to pick up and move to another city and then realize a year later, “That was the dumbest thing ever. Who let me do that? Oh well.”, and with a shrug they return to their original state. Those people are capable of shrugging because it was their own impulse that put them in that situation. There is no one to blame but themselves unlike the over analyzers who have to constantly keep a sharp eye out for all the various variables flying their way.

It’s exhausting. Constantly having to worry if it’s the right decision and being devastated when it’s the wrong one. I’m a strong believer in ‘you live and you learn’, because every single thing that happens teaches us something, but some habits are so damn hard to break. How can we learn to be the complete opposite of ourselves when it’s ingrained in our DNA?

That answer, I do not have. Because I haven’t done the data yet.

I'M BAAAACK!!

I began this blog many moons ago because I missed writing. I liked being forced to write papers in college even when I didn’t care about the topic. I had thoughts and ideas and I liked putting them on paper. I haven’t really written in the last year because working two jobs barely gives me time to shower and eat a can of soup when I get home and, unfortunately, the weekend is time to play catchup on life duties.

But I miss it so I’ve decided to be better at it and will be writing biweekly at least. I’m doing it for no one but me, and I’m putting it out there in case anyone cares, agrees, disagrees, or is entertained by it. So, welcome to my 2014 writing journey.
I have a lot of things to say…

Looking For A Comic Con Virgin?? Don't Look Here Anymore!

I finally went to Comic Con for the first time. A Comic Con virgin no more! Well, I can't speak for the rest of the lot there...
I was told it was going to be overwhelming. I was told it was going to be action-packed. I was told it was going to be awesome. I was told right. Excited and nervous, I waited these last few months for the day when all my nerd dreams would come try. I can say that it was pretty awesome. I got to meet Mark Duplass (Pete from The League) who was very nice,even though his publicist wanted him to stop signing autographs 15 minutes in--I was not having that crap; she must have seen my face and changed her mind. I also got to see the cast of The League who were hysterical, of course.

We hit the floor in full force the moment we got there and were overwhelmed with the crowds of people. It was hard getting through the aisles and hard to see everything that we passed so we had to loop around a few times. And even though Comic Con states it's kid friendly, don't bring your kids!! All we were doing was tripping over little toddlers who were lagging behind and baby carriage wheels! It's too small of a space already. I think there should be an age limit, like 8. 8 is a good year. Plus they'll appreciate it more.

It was interesting to see the big name celebrities who were there signing autographs (Patrick Stewart, William Shatner, David Duchovny...) who also charged a ridiculous amount of money to get that signature. Not only did people have to wait on line for 1-2 hours, but then they had to pay $40-90 for that autograph. And extra if they wanted a picture! I think that's insane. I know these celebrities have to make money somehow (and believe me, they're probably getting paid a lot of that money for just waking up in the morning) and charging a fee is a sort of crowd control but these are your fans. These are the people who put, and keep, you in business. $90 for your signature is pretty extreme, Sir Patrick Stewart, especially since that doesn't come with a latte and a discussion about politics at the local Starbucks.

It was also interesting to see the people who dress up. I feel like Sunday is the low-key day, so I'm probably going to try to get Saturday tickets next time when there are more costume competitions. Some people are career cosplayers and do this all the time and some were just dressed up for fun. I'm all for expressing yourself and being what you want to be, but I feel that when you're dressing up to imitate someone or something, you should try to actually embody that thing. It has to be somewhat realistic or else you're just you in a costume. And that makes you a bit weird. Of course there were those girls who dressed up in unnecessarily sexy costumes: sexy batman, sexy transformer. I saw so many ass cheeks and boobs it was like a club on a Friday night. And the super high heels were ridiculous! You look ridiculous hobbling around at the 5th hour hanging onto your boyfriend. No one thought that was cute. No one. Also, again, I'm all about being comfortable with who you are and you're body, but when you squeeze into a costume with cutouts and your rolls are hanging out, you don't look comfortable and, in turn, you make ME UN-comfortable. Play to your strengths, not to your weaknesses, people. Aside from that one sexy problem, it was nice to see people be original with their costumes. There were some repeats but they all had a twist to them which I liked.

Now that I know what to expect, I'm definitely going next year. In a costume. And it will be the best costume ever. And I may even go two days, who knows. It was definitely overwhelming but worth it and we were thankful to have Columbus Day off to recover from the nerdgasm. Until next year, Comic Con!

Gray Matter

Around my 25th birthday, my hairdresser announced that she found a gray hair on the back of my head. I was horrified. 25?? Really?? I shrugged it off and told her it was probably a blonde hair. She pulled it out.

When I was 27 1/2 years old, she laughed again and said, "oh I found another one!" I insisted it was one of my bleached hairs in my streak.

At 28 years and 3 months, reality hit me like a hurricane. As I looked in the mirror I saw something glisten. I looked closer at the front of my head, trying hard to separate the individual strands of hair. It was there, mocking me, a single silver hair. It was half the length of the rest. It had just grown in, independently free, without a care and full of confidence. It said to me, "Ha! my friend Time brought me. Hello. I'm not going anywhere".

As the years pass, we sometimes don't realize what's happening to us. We're caught in the middle of work and bills and life that we sometimes forget that we're getting older. Then one day we step back and see ourselves outside of our bodies, as people we see on the street. You know how when you have to describe someone you say, "...a lady who's about 40 years old, with the short brown hair". I don't think of myself as 28 years old, I'm Natasha. I've been the same person. But now I'm the lady who's almost 30 with green eyes and blonde streaks in her hair. Someone younger than me is describing me like that. Someone younger than me thinks I'm old!

We hear a click in our knees and we say, "oh I've been working out too much. I think I pulled something" when in reality, it's just us getting old. No one really tells you what it feels like. Things just happen to us and we adjust and take them to be what they are. I have gray hair, I get tired at a bar at 10pm, my knees are stiff when I sit too long, I'm getting older. Then I think, I remember when I was 5 years old. I remember standing in the stairwell with my Minnie Mouse sweatshirt waving goodbye to my mother. It can't be that long ago! That was 1990. And it seems like it was yesterday. You know, the 90's....that was over 20 years ago! That's insane. We've traded places with our parents, the people we used to roll our eyes at and say, "you were young like 20 years ago! You have no idea what life is like now!"

I don't feel like I'm old. I don't feel like I've done all the things I'm supposed to do. And now I realize why some people don't act their age, because they haven't really realized their age yet. We condemn people who are in their 40's and still acting like they're 25. We scoff when we hear that people are dating someone 20 years younger than they are. But it makes sense. George Clooney makes sense now. Time passes so fast that we sometimes miss our real age. One year just blurs into another at some point and it's all the same. It's all one continuous day, and we just live it.

The Lost Art Of Friend Keeping

I was recently thinking about friendships and I came across an article in Women's Health which was quite apropos. It stated that because of things like Facebook, our generation no longer has real friends but acquaintances. Thinking of your "friend" list on FB how many can you say are REALLY your friend? Maybe 5? And even that may be too high nowadays. Or as Women's Health puts it, "How many of the friends hanging around in your feed would you bother to ask to brunch?". Even if we do have those 5, we often neglect them. There used to be a time when your only option was to pick up the phone to see how someone was doing. Or have someone over for coffee to just shoot the shit and gossip about the other girls. Everything's so impersonal now.

Forget the fact the we have so few real friends. My bigger concern is the neglecting part. The times when you don't see your supposed friend for 3 months and she lives in the same borough. Oh, you were just going to give me the 'I'm so busy' excuse? Yeah, I thought you were. We say that all the time. That we're too busy. But unless you're working until 9pm every single day, there's no way you can't carve out 2 hours of your time to have dinner or a drink. We've become a culture where we make room for our friends when it suits us, when they're useful for a time until we get bored of them or find something better. Now, I'm not saying that's everyone, but there seems to be a lot of this from what I've observed. Also, I'm not talking about the flaker. You know, that person who you never really rely on because they always cancel on you last minute or take two days to answer your text. That person, bless their heart, was made like that. You just have to work around their weakness.

I'm talking about the person who is attached to you (for about 2-6 months), who you go to dinners with and happy hours and is always free to do things, and then slowly disappears. And then reappears when it's convenient for her or him (some boys do this too!). She's bored or she broke up with her boyfriend. That one is the worst--the disappearing girlfriend act. We know, you're in love and you want to spend every waking moment with this person, so you stop going to happy hours and start becoming a craft beer expert (because that's the only thing your boo drinks) and are always too tired or busy to do anything--but then it ends. And you text your friend, "drinks tonight?". And she doesn't respond until tomorrow because she found someone new to have drinks with. Because you left her on her own and it's no fault of hers if you were the one who disappeared. And Women's Health makes a good point "when a great romantic date ends you'd never say, 'we should do it again sometime", and then let it go for three months. Why don't your girlfriends get that same courtesy?"

The older I become the more I realize that you need to hold on to the few real friends you have. We don't have the luxury of meeting new people like we did in College so why not make sure that the bonds you do have are fully strengthened. What people don't understand, and I've tried to explain it to a few who get married and then disappear, is that you got married. You're not 85 years old and bedridden. You don't have kids to look after. You have now locked that guy down and will get to see him for the next 50 years. You should go out with your friends as much as possible because once you have kids, it's all over. No one will ever see you again. They will have to come to you. And chances are you'll be trying to catch up over Sesame Street and Goldfish crackers and dirty diapers instead of over Cosmos and the creepy middle-aged man buying your group drinks at the local bar.

There's No Place Like Home...I Think

It's 4am and I am currently sitting on my tiny island (my bed) waiting to hear the sounds of an unwelcomed mouse (or mice)some where in my wall. This is what has become of my life: waiting for daybreak when it is safe to finally sleep. My house, which used to be my refuge, has now become my nightmare. And if you've ever been alone and had the pleasure of being startled awake by scratching in the wall, you know how I feel. My summer vacation has been wasted by running away from my house to avoid the mice and untanable 79 degree weather.

This is not the first of my house woes nor do I believe it to be my last. I have been cursed with apartment afflictions ever since I moved out of my moms. That's not looking so bad now....

There was the rape tunnel apartment in the side alley of a building. Looking back I wonder why I thought it was a good idea to live there and also, how my mother LET me live there. That lasted 8 months. Mostly because I was terrified that someone was always trying to kill me in my isolated ground floor hovel and partly because a bum moved into the alleyway right outside my door and I feared he would return. I think the mafia took care of that one for me though...

Then there was the major apartment upgrade in Spanish Harlem that seemed too good to be true. Kids, if it seems too good to be true, it most definitely is, so run the other way. Fast. New appliances, balcony, laundry in your apartment, gym in the basement, doorman....Yes doorman, who drunk-dialed me from the lobby one night to profess his love to me. That wasn't even the worst of that place. Leaky ceilings, shady landlord, crazy roommates, and some other shenanigans and memories that will last me a lifetime. I could write a book about that building. We will save it for another time.

Now there's this place. I thought I was away from the craziness and drama. That lasted about 6 months. Aside from the inconsiderate neighbors, who wear heels at 1am and walk like baby dinosaurs, I now have mice in the neighborhood who make a frequent visit to my wall. Tonight, I was also greeted by a very large skunk who had no problem coming right up to my door. The only upside is that little bugger (who I've named Bull) eats mice so that problem will soon be gone. Then, what to do about that skunk...

I can't win. And what I find interesting is that I am so careful when it comes to picking apartments! I look and look and make sure everything's right. And I still get the fuzzy end of the lollipop! I don't know what it is. Hopefully this will be the last one, the third of the triad. Bad things come in threes, right?