Scavenger Hunt Tuesday

Yesterday, I was in a nostalgic, generous mood, thinking about my friends and what they mean to me and why I love them so much. And, as sometimes happens in my world, one thought leads to another which leads to another which reminds me of a particular item and before you know it, I've spent hours of the day not working but on a mad scavenger hunt to find that item. On the way, I find various other items that need to be remembered and 'ooed' and 'awwed' over, which is why I lose a whole day.

So...while I was writing my blog yesterday, I became obsessed with finding a volume of poetry that Dino had given me years ago with an inscription in the front about how one day I would publish my own volume of poetry. I was going to take a picture of it and use it in the blog, and thus the search began. I looked everywhere. The downstairs bookshelf in the living room, in the hutch that i use as another bookshelf, only displaying my most valued and beloved books, on the bay windowsill in the dining room, on the floor next to the bookshelf in the living room, lovingly lining the wall beneath a window, on my dresser where another collection is held together by an old wine bottle from my honeymoon and a cool, iron lamp...and various other places where I can sneak in a few books. I'm like a child who spreads his food around on his plate so his parents won't notice he hasn't eaten anything...maybe my husband won't notice how many books that I haven't eaten.

I became increasingly irritated when I couldn't find it because I had just seen the book about a month ago, so I began to do what everyone does when they can't find something...I kept looking in all the same places muttering under my breath damn it, i know it's here somewhere, thinking that maybe by the fourth or fifth time I looked on that same bookshelf that it would be suddenly be there. Finally, I gave up and decided to finish the blog without the picture and returned to my desk, where I began to stare out the window at my favorite squirrel who loves to play on the roof of my neighbors house...hours of fun. I noticed a small stack of books in the windowsill, with a candle sitting on top, one of which was the volume of poetry I had been searching for all morning. These are how I spend most of my days. Futile.

Finding the book lead me to thinking about how I haven't written a new poem in quite a few years, which lead me to the attic to search for a box of my work, which lead me down another memory lane when I found two notebooks that belonged to my first husband with various songs and poems he had written (I'll have to save this for another blog) which lead me to folders and folders of old work from my creative writing classes.

I began to realize that I haven't written anything remotely close to those angst ridden poems and short stories in such a long time. What happened? Kids, school, work, financial burdens, divorce...just life in general. Which made me think that I have tons, and I mean tons, of stuff to write about besides my day to day bullshit.

I found one particularly interesting and flattering critique of one of my poems entitled "What it's about" which reads as follows:

Melinda, You absolutely MUST apply for the 400 course w/rabbit. I'm not a great poet, but I do recognize it when I read it. You've got that talent most of us must learn. The ability to import emotion into an unrelative reader. I actually felt this!! You're gonna publish someday, and I'll love to write the forward. There was no distance here - I liked that. I also liked how you didn't feel you had to elaborate on everything. You stayed w/why you write. Leave the details for other poems. ~ MG

Who is MG? I don't remember. I don't remember a lot of things from that particular time in my life. But whoever you are, thank you for that. Because what you didn't know was that 12 years later, I would pick this up and remember, and become inspired to write my poetry again.

Hopefully, I will publish and make enough money to support my family after I get fired from my job for spending my days searching for inspiration.

The saga continues...