I cannot seem to find time to write, though I think of things to write in the dark at night while I'm waiting for Elanah to fall asleep in my arms so that I can move her back to her crib. I think of things I want to SAY but then I decide that sleeping has to be my first priority. Considering that Elanah wakes up every 2-3 hours for a feeding (often waking Darah up so that she and Elanah both join us in bed) and likes to begin the day at 6:30 AM, I think it's a smart decision to trade the creative idea for sleep. I almost ALWAYS forget whatever it is that I want to remember in the morning. If a poem begins to form in my head and I am near sleep, I debate whether to get up or go to sleep. I almost always let it go, but I do spend a moment or two repeating it in my head in order to try to remember it. Didn't they used to tell us to study right before going to sleep to increase recall? Or maybe they told us to refrain from that. Either way, it doesn't work for me: if I don't write it down RIGHT then, then I forget.
The poetry in my head surely does matter to me, but when you've been up five or six times already and a poem pops in your head it is actually kind of annoying. I want to say to the poem: Why do you pop in my head right now that I am all warm and cozy and about to fall asleep? Why couldn't you have come to me during the day? I suppose the poem responds: "Jess, give me a break. The part of your brain that I live in is only accessible when you feel you can let go of all of the daily stresses. You drown me out with the day-to-day necessary thoughts, and here I wait for the moment when the rest of your brain gets quiet so I can start to speak. And then, in your lazypants way, you push me out yet again. Thanks a lot. And don't you go off on one of your tangents with excuse after excuse. We all know it's hard, Jess. Poooooor you." Well, you can see how sassy the poem can be. No wonder I go to sleep!
Life is full of interruptions. I cannot keep a linear train of thought going. There is always something I must attend to, whether it's Darah asking me to play Colorforms with her or Elanah crawling under the dining room chair, up my lap, into the kitchen. Children and intellectual pursuits of any manner sort of compete with one another, and (as they should) children win. Or at least in my life they win. So that just means the brilliant poem that started in my mind before bed last night is of as much use to me as the dreams I cannot recall when I wake up in the morning. Thoughts down the drain of the universe that is my brain. There are so many projects I'd like to start, continue, finish - in no specific order. I want to continue to write NEW poetry, I want to write blog entries about past and present events; I want to try to get old and new poetry published; I want to try to write a children's book; I want to try to sing these songs I make up for Darah (maybe on a children's album or just for Youtube); I want to look into English-ed teacher certification requirements and counseling certification requirements for IL and NY; I'd like to put together some scrapbooks-- alas, I cannot even manage to finish this train of thought.
Elanah is climbing up my body, whining and fussing. I managed to wash the dishes, eat the rest of Elan's pureed carrots and write half of this before she woke up from her nap. Time's up, folks. "Don't know when I'll be back again..."
The poetry in my head surely does matter to me, but when you've been up five or six times already and a poem pops in your head it is actually kind of annoying. I want to say to the poem: Why do you pop in my head right now that I am all warm and cozy and about to fall asleep? Why couldn't you have come to me during the day? I suppose the poem responds: "Jess, give me a break. The part of your brain that I live in is only accessible when you feel you can let go of all of the daily stresses. You drown me out with the day-to-day necessary thoughts, and here I wait for the moment when the rest of your brain gets quiet so I can start to speak. And then, in your lazypants way, you push me out yet again. Thanks a lot. And don't you go off on one of your tangents with excuse after excuse. We all know it's hard, Jess. Poooooor you." Well, you can see how sassy the poem can be. No wonder I go to sleep!
Life is full of interruptions. I cannot keep a linear train of thought going. There is always something I must attend to, whether it's Darah asking me to play Colorforms with her or Elanah crawling under the dining room chair, up my lap, into the kitchen. Children and intellectual pursuits of any manner sort of compete with one another, and (as they should) children win. Or at least in my life they win. So that just means the brilliant poem that started in my mind before bed last night is of as much use to me as the dreams I cannot recall when I wake up in the morning. Thoughts down the drain of the universe that is my brain. There are so many projects I'd like to start, continue, finish - in no specific order. I want to continue to write NEW poetry, I want to write blog entries about past and present events; I want to try to get old and new poetry published; I want to try to write a children's book; I want to try to sing these songs I make up for Darah (maybe on a children's album or just for Youtube); I want to look into English-ed teacher certification requirements and counseling certification requirements for IL and NY; I'd like to put together some scrapbooks-- alas, I cannot even manage to finish this train of thought.
Elanah is climbing up my body, whining and fussing. I managed to wash the dishes, eat the rest of Elan's pureed carrots and write half of this before she woke up from her nap. Time's up, folks. "Don't know when I'll be back again..."
2 comments:
I feel you, I feel you, I feel you. Deep thoughts come & escape me. And I totally agree that is a plight of parenting small children and wanting (*needing*) and outlet to do something creative, constructive and a little outside the box of...parenting small children. :) I miss really writing, too. From one lit junkie to another...the time will come. I remember when L. got older & I could do something again...and I know that it will be even better when they are in school. I guess we just have to take what we get now & be patient for when the day comes. Sending an understanding hug your way...
Thanks for the hug, Sonya. Love all your support, hon!!! Sending positive, creative energy your way for when the time comes to write, construct, create...
:)
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