Attempted Blogging

I feel neglectful. I want to write more on this blog, keep it going and going well, that’s true enough. But there’s all of this other stuff kicking around in my head, in my life, that it’s hard to devote the proper attention to any one thing for even as long as it takes to type an entry in a blog.

Every time I talk to my parents, they tell me how much they enjoy reading what I write here (Hi Mom & Dad!). And as much as I appreciate knowing that at the very least, I have two people to satisfy with my ramblings, it’s also one more thing that I have to keep on top of in my life, and not just for me, but for people who read, who want to know what’s going on, for myself, because in the future, I’ll look back at this chaotic time in my life (when is life NOT chaotic, anyway?) and want to figure out how I made it though. I feel bad when I don’t at least write every other day. But I’m going to stop feeling bad if I only write every three days, because if you could see the syllabus I’m working with, over here, you would totally tell me to shut up the blogging completely and just work the poetry until the class is done.

But things really are going well. I feel stimulated and creative a lot of the time, even when I’m tearing my hair out over the prospect of writing in some obscure form that I’ve never, EVER heard mention of. And I’ve been studying the poetry for some time. But even if what I’m producing isn’t necessarily worthy of becoming a poem when it grows up, it’s generating stuff in my brain. And so far, I’ve been pretty happy with that stuff.

As for the home hunt, a little bit of a different story there. It looks like we may still be able to get the two-bedroom, but that means a compromise on location. It’s not a big deal, but it will mean a longer commute to work. On the other hand, to save gas on that longer commute, James and I will probably carpool at least three days a week, which means we’ll get to talk to each other in the morning. And I enjoy talking to that guy. Of course, the condo we loved in Springfield is still on the market, and if it stays there, we might just have to look into putting in an obnoxiously low-ball offer, just on the off chance that the owner’s getting desperate.

The last thing that I’ve been meaning to write about lately has been music. It seems like it’s been a long time since I’ve found an artist or album that has taken hold of me as much as Nick Cave’s Murder Ballads. That album still gives me chills with the opening track, “Have mercy on me, sir, allow me to impose on you…” I love almost every song on the album because Cave’s lyrics are so dark and twisting, each song a good poem for the way it makes you think about human beings and their various demons. There are other albums that have hit me well over the years, but Murder Ballads remains distinctive. Well, through the magic of the internet I stumbled across a young lady named Regina Spektor. She’s been a featured artist all over the place lately, and I finally bought Soviet Kitsch a couple weeks ago (not realizing that a new album was also just about to be released), something that I had been meaning to do for several months now, but could never justify it. Well, the purchase is fully justified now because I haven’t been able to drive to school or sit at the computer or in the living room without playing that album, or some of the songs you can hear using the radio function on her website. It’s hard to say what I like about her, exactly, but I think that part of it is the intensity of her repeated phrases. For example, the other day I woke up with the loop from “Poor Little Rich Boy” in my head that goes, “You’re so young, you’re so goddamn young.” I was mumbling it around the living room while getting ready in the morning and James asked me what the hell I was singing. So I told him, and though he hasn’t heard much of the album (yet), I’m afraid he thinks I’m crazy. Or the music is. Or both. Because I can get kind of crazy. And I’m well aware that my musical tastes might be considered by some to be a little crazy, too.

That’s more than I really wanted to write tonight, because it’s already bedtime, but hopefully I have sated my loyal little audience for another few days.


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