I like to fancy myself a writer sometimes. When I'm bored of TV and can't think of another thing to make sometimes I will just sit at the computer and write-or just stare at the monitor intending to write. I had an idea to send off some of my "work" and did so last night on a whim although I have my doubts that anything will come of it. But sometimes you just need to get things out there. It helps if you have no high aspirations or ideas of being great so you don't get disappointed. The problem with writing for me is that it's hard for me to do it when I am feeling happy. So then I end up churning out a lot of really sad sounding things though I am not all that doom and gloom most of the time.
Anyway, I wrote a little something last night and thought I would "publish" here. I mean, why not. It could be ok, right? And then I can say I am in fact a published writer. Because really it's all relative.
Ahem.
We Can’t All Be Lost
Down deep where it's all just guts
and the on and off
twinkling
of a ghost
or a soul
(depending on what you believe)
there is the tiniest fragment
of humanity and the
desire to be wanted
that even the darkness
can't snuff out.
Just because you can't see it
or touch it or taste it
doesn't mean it's dead.
The smallest hope,
burning like a flickering bulb.
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In more optimistic and interesting news I am gearing up to do an interview with Liza Rietz an amazing clothing designer from Portland. You can also find more info about her here.
I'm glad the snow storm is over.
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