Why Did I Stop Writing?

Hi all (if anyone is still reading this).  Just wanted to check in and say that I hope to resurrect this blog and to apologize for being absent for so long...

For one update on what I've been up to, check out this article which I finally got published as a feature with Shenandoah Living Magazine!!

http://cgregshields.wix.com/shenandoah-living#!indie-bookstores-alive-and-well-/fdzox

I'll be posting on here again soon, so thank you for sticking by me all this time!

I've been away for far too long...

Hey, all.

I recognize that I've been absent since about October, and for that I am truly sorry.  Every time it crossed my mind to write something, I realized that I didn't have anything particularly interesting in mind to say or that I didn't have the time.  The truth is that I've been very busy.

However, and I fully intend to write something more later today or tomorrow, I will break the ice here by sharing two poems which I read aloud at the college's annual Poetry Jam this morning.  Let me just preface this by saying that public speaking terrifies me, that whenever I've had to get up in front of people - even peers or small groups - and speak in front of a microphone, my voice quivers and my hands shake and I start sweating uncontrollably and basically become a blithering sweaty incomprehensible mess.

Or at least that's how it seems from my end.

Last year, when I heard about the poetry jam, I was intrigued but had no intention of signing up.  For one thing, though I've written poetry since I was very young, probably 90% of it was never seen by anyone except myself, and as hard as it is to share one's writing with others, it was doubly hard to share the poetry, which I always feared wasn't good enough and which was consequently extremely personal for me.

After talking to friends and coworkers about the poetry jam and being continually encouraged to sign up, I finally did.  Days of stressing and worrying and fretting later, my shaking and sweating self climbed to that stage without tripping or fainting and delivered a mostly coherent rendition of two poems I had written years earlier, trying not to make eye contact with the hundreds of students, faculty and staff in the audience or pay any attention the large video camera pointed directly at my face.

I survived.  And even watched the video later without cringing myself into oblivion of embarrassment.

So, when the announcement for this year's poetry jam came up, I immediately responded to sign me up, without waiting for nerves to let me question the decision.  I didn't have much time to think about it, as this past Tuesday was the largest event of the year for my department at work and I've been working my butt off with lots of long hours trying to get ready for the past few weeks.

Suddenly it was the day of the event, and I had only quickly read through my two poems at the last minute one time.  One of them is fairly long, and tells a story of a particular event which I shared with my dad several years ago.  I had written the poem that day, and later gave it to my dad as a framed keepsake, superimposed over a photo of the place where the story is set.  He has it mounted on the wall at home.  The title of that poem is "Bluebells" for the blue flowers in the story, and as our whole family took a trip to that park two weekends ago and saw the bluebells, I had only just remembered the poem and that's why it came to mind the day I signed up to read.

For the second selection, I wanted to pick something nobody had yet read or seen, so I used a short poem which I actually posted as a Facebook status one day last summer, a moment captured in imagery and onomatopoeia, if my English vocabulary has not yet entirely left me =P

As rare as it is for me to share my poems with anyone, it's rarer still for me to share anything that hasn't spent at least 3 or 4 years in the Disney Vault of my computer.  I guess I figure if I can leave it sitting awhile and still like it when I come back, it might just be fit for human consumption.  Like haircuts, I always seem to hate and regret my poems the day after and for some time, and need some reassurance that they aren't horrible before I want anyone to see them.  It's harder to hide a new haircut, though.

Anyways, enough preamble.  Here are my two poems, and a promise to write something else SOON.  Thank you for staying with me, my friends.  And I apologize because I don't think this posting format will let me do the first poem in two columns, so it will be a LONG post.  You can skip this part if you're not interested =p

Bluebells

One sunny day in April

Sitting by the TV

Watching the sun

Through the window

Dad asks if I want to go

To walk the dog

At the park

The one with the bluebells

Tying my shoes

Packing a couple of apples

And a chunk of cheese

A bottle of water

With a cup for the dog

And a couple of bags

Just in case

Out of the garage

Down the street

Through the town

Past trees in bloom

And yards full of flowers

Then onto the little winding road

Through the trees

We pass a neighborhood

Full of brand-new houses

With neat little lawns

That weren’t there before

Continuing on

We see horses in a meadow

Fences overgrown with vines

Little run-down houses

Surrounded by trees

And wildflowers

The shadows of the trees

Making patterns on the road

Into the park

Past the smiling attendant

Into the parking lot

Where I learned to ride my bike

When I was little

Blinking in the bright sunlight

We head towards the trail

The one with the bluebells

I remember that day

We came for the hike

More than anything else

But the closer we got to the river

The more of them we saw

Bluebells!

Little blue flowers

As far as the eye could see

Like a sea of petals

That drowned out the grass

We made plans to come back

To bring cameras

And take pictures of them

To capture the bluebells

On film

So we could never forget

But the next week

When we came back

They were all gone

Not a single flower

Could we find

We had been back

A few times since

Always hoping to see

The bluebells

Like they were that day

But it was never the same

I guess we were just lucky

It was around that time of year

When the bluebells could be out

We took a drive out there

Hoping to see them

It had rained

And the path was muddy

But we went anyways

Far from the busy world

Of school and working

The sounds of birds

And rustling leaves in the trees

Sloshing through the mud

Coating my white sneakers

Over little bridges

My dad had once helped build

Tiny white flowers

Flecked the sea of green grass

The occasional wild violet

Past a few other hikers

No bluebells to be seen

We trudged on

The dog pranced

A little breeze rustled by

Finally we saw them

Few at first

The blue buds

Just beginning to bloom

I smiled

Remembering

There were more of them

Mixed with the white

All overpowering the grass

Under the green canopy

Of the trees

A many-colored canvas

Just waiting for us

But we didn’t have a camera

We walked on

Beside the river

Which gurgled softly below

The flora over all

And the shadows of the trees

Making patterns on the ground

We came to a place

Where the ground was covered

Garbage everywhere

Among the bluebells

And the violets

And the trees

Beer cans and bottles

Half-buried in the mud

And Styrofoam cups

We finally reached a bridge

That had collapsed

The end of the road

We didn’t want to swim

Not with the dog

So we had to stop

Sitting amongst the flowers

We ate our apples

And the cheese

Sipped lukewarm water

Let the dog off her leash

So she could run around

My dad started to talk

He spoke of the future

And all the things I would do

That I preferred to forget

I wasn’t ready to leave home

Not quite yet

I ate in silence

Watching the dog

And picked a few flowers

To take home

Then stood up

Brushing off the dirt

And called the dog

It was time to head back

When we came to the spot

Covered in trash

My dad remembered the bags

So we stopped

And started to clean up

First one bag then two

We filled them all

But it wasn’t enough

We took as much as we could carry

And sloshed back

Through the mud

Over the bridges

And back towards the car

When the ranger drove by

He took our bags

Put them in his truck

And thanked us for helping

We took as much as we could

I said quietly

But couldn’t help thinking

It wasn’t enough

At the ranger’s store

We bought some ice cream

Which we ate on the lawn

Dad shared his with the dog

It was getting hot out

Then it was back to the car

Back onto the winding road

It reminded me of a poem

From a book I once read

“the road goes ever on and on

Down from the road where it began

Now far ahead the road has gone

And I must follow if I can”

It was a good book

Back past the little old houses

Back past the new houses

Back through the town

Where I grew up

Back home

We left our dirty shoes on the step

And went inside

Back to the hustle and bustle

Of our lives

With nothing to show

But muddy shoes

And a few little flowers

Just in case

===

"Summer Rain"

What is it I love about a summer rain?

For one, it cuts the heat.

Breaks the humidity into tiny pieces

and sends them shattering down on our heads

In soft, pattering trickles

The sounds of the world seem muted

Drowned in a blanket of moist droplets

That soften and liquify the hard edges

Wash away the dirt and dust and pollen

The sky may be dulled and darkened

But the earthy hues of grass and dirt and flowers

Seem brightened by their moistened reflections

Feet tromping quietly through puddles

As the patter, patter of drips ripple through

Freshening and invigorating and bringing life

To the otherwise dull heat of summer sunlight

Summer rain is a welcome respite

A thoughtful quietening

A drip drip dropping solitary walk

As thoughts meander through the rivulets

Of fresh natural summer showers.

===

Thank you, thank you *takes a bow* - until next time, folks!

Change is Not Like a Sunrise

Good morning, friends and readers.  I recognize that it has been quite some time since I wrote anything substantial on here, but for the most part it's because I felt like I didn't have much of anything poignant enough to share with the world.  Some whining, some bickering, some complaining... some good news.

If you have not already heard, my best friend in the world (my "brother from another mother") spent the past five months battling cancer.  As of last week, my dear friends, I am happy to share that the battle, for now, is over.  Six rounds of chemotherapy and fifteen radiation treatments, combined with loads of medication and hundreds of blood thinner injections, have rendered Mr. Robert Joseph Belcher CANCER-FREE!!  Just after his thirtieth birthday, we celebrated the last of his radiation treatments with a nice dinner out, just us and his parents.  He's still going to be recovering and regaining his strength for some time, so the big party will have to wait a few weeks until he's feeling up to it, but the occasion could not go unmarked.

As for my own life, I guess you could say things have started to "go back to normal", as if there is any such thing as "normal".  It's kind of a strange concept if you think about it, since every person, every moment, every routine is constantly changing in magnificent and subtle and lightning-fast and creepingly slow ways, some that we notice right away and some that we never realize until they are so far changed as to be unrecognizable for what they once were...

Change is NOT like a sunrise.  At least not often.  Change is as the seasons, always a little different from the year before, always subtly sliding from one into the next in constant swirling motion, as the leaves drift in many-hued swirls through the crisp breezy air, the clouds racing by overhead in not exactly the same way as they ever have before.  Each year seems like a huge year full of changes, but if EVERY year is different, then aren't they all, really, the same?  No one day, one minute, one second, can ever be EXACTLY the same as the one before it, or the one after it.  The whole world is constantly changing.

So what, then, is "normal"?  We could say normal is the least amount of noticeable change, that when things seem the most similar to how they have been in the recent past, that things are now "normal."  We could, on the other hand, say that Change IS Normal - that the state of being constantly learning, growing, altering and improving ourselves is what is "normal" - in that case, stagnation and inertia become strange and foreign concepts.

So many things have changed in the past year.  As we shift rapidly through Fall, at the time of year when my family recognizes and follows the teachings of the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, which both occurred about a month ago), I am always given to reflect on the changes in myself and my life since this time last year.  What did I do that was new and different?  What big decisions did I make?  What do I regret?  What do I want to do even differently in the next year?

This year, I worked at a new job that I really enjoy, and stretched myself professionally in ways that helped me to grow in confidence and intellectualism.  I helped students to discover what the future might hold for them after college, and found the joy of knowing I have made a difference to a young adult not that much younger than myself.  I was able to proudly attach my name to projects, seminars, training events and publicity materials that I created and distributed, and add those materials and accomplishments to my portfolio and resume.  I started writing more articles and blog posts, and published a new article in an online news source for the first time in years.  I wrote for the school newspaper and saved copies of every article.

I kept a potted plant alive for an entire year.  This, sadly, is an accomplishment for me, as all my other plants and growing projects have died from neglect.  This poor little plant is scraggly and a bit pathetic, but it is still growing and living in my office, having survived the trip from Northern Virginia when my parents first came to visit and help me move after starting the new job over a year ago.

I have been in a wonderful relationship that is just about to celebrate it's official one-year anniversary next weekend.  My boyfriend has been sweet, romantic, caring, surprising, goofy, supportive, and fun through all of the trials and tribulations of the past year.  He saw me through some hard times that I don't know how I would have weathered without him.  We traveled together to Florida for his family's summer vacation and a family wedding, and he attended my brother's wedding as my date.  We've spent time getting to know each other's families, each other's passions, each other's friends and hobbies and a few annoying habits.  I've learned so much in the past year about how to be in a relationship, how to act and what to expect and how to balance my free time between self and friends, family and relationships.  I have learned to say "I love you."

I have learned to cope with more changes than I thought I could experience at one time, as in the midst of a change I was wrapped up in and freaking out about, something bigger and more unexpected came out of nowhere.  I finally made the decision to try living on my own for the first time ever, but was not quite ready to have to make that leap yet.  We had a whole plan where we would move to the new town, to the apartment I had picked out and which I believed I could eventually afford on my own, and Joey would work and save up for a few months until I was more settled and ready and Joey had some money saved up to move out on his own, potentially to somewhere out of state to start a new life for himself.

Well, that all changed when the cancerous tumor was discovered in his chest, just weeks from potentially becoming fatal.  As he lay in a hospital bed contemplating his own mortality, I cried and stressed out over having to move into the new apartment by myself - I blanched at the idea of having to do everything on my own, right away, without the comfort of the pre-planned months of transition.  I became sad and depressed at the idea of losing my best friend, and even after his prognosis turned very positive I did not know how to cope with the multitude of changes his new situation introduced.

I changed, albeit more slowly than I would have liked.  I worked my butt off exercising four days a week to train for a 5K race to benefit the Cancer Center Bridge Fund that was paying for Joey's treatments.  I spent every evening either with my boyfriend or visiting Joey, through the hospital, through the chemotherapy treatments, through days when he felt awful and did not want visitors.  We watched movies, we played video games, we talked online.  I made homemade chicken matzah ball soup in large quantities.  I showed up for many a family dinner unannounced and found a second family welcoming me with open arms through it all.

Eventually, as the chemo treatments progressed and then switched to radiation treatments, my schedule started getting less insanely crowded.  I spent a few nights alone in my new apartment, without crying at being lonely or needing company.  I played some online video games, watched some girly movies, cooked dinner for myself.  And I also let the house become embarrassingly dirty, let dishes pile up in the kitchen, stayed out far too late on work nights more than I'd care to admit.  I stopped going to the gym, gained a bit of weight, became aware that my cholesterol is pretty unhealthily high.

But at some point recently, I realized that I am not afraid of the way things are changing.  I have a good job, though I wish it paid a bit more.  I have a second job which is going to help me make up the difference for a few months, though I have to give up my Sunday evenings.  I have an amazing and inspiring best friend, who will always be a part of my life even if we are never going to be roommates again.  I have a boyfriend who loves me enough to think it's adorable when I fall asleep on the couch at 10pm with my Xbox live headset still on and the title screen music from 'Borderlands 2' blasting out of the tv.  I have a hectic life which is never boring, and in which I get to see my family, best friend and boyfriend as much as possible.

In the past year, I also got a new sister (-in-law), a new baby cousin, and new friends.  I stopped believing I was a complete failure for not being able to pay off my entire credit card balance right this minute.  I started taking on new projects at work, and acknowledging that sometimes it's okay not to make a deadline if you apologize and work to complete the project as soon as you can.  I stepped up and filled in for my boss for a week when she had an unexpected family emergency, and I didn't fall apart.

Change is not like a sunrise.  The sun rises every day, but never once does it look exactly the same.  But I say that change is not like a sunrise because when the sun comes up, it changes the whole world from dark to light, from stars to sunshine, from cool to warm, from black to a multitude of colors.  Change is sometimes colorful and majestic, and sometimes it is subtle and unnoticed.  Change is constant.  Change is life.

If you've read this far, I thank you.  This was not a pre-planned post, or something I wrote in multiple drafts.  This is simply the stream of my consciousness on a Friday morning spent in contemplation, and now I go back to a day filled with changes of various magnitudes...  Until next time, friends, I bid you adieu.