I have been toying with the idea of working on a few pieces of my writing and moving towards having them published. Sometimes I think about the first chapter of the book that I have written and wonder if I should sit back down with it and continue through it. At least to begin thinking about the characters again and mentally allowing them to develop.

I have also toyed with the idea of allowing the process of my poetry to be displayed here. I haven't quite gotten that far yet, though. Poetry is a little too intimate for me to feel one hundred percent ready to post them here. It is a little bit different with the final product, or at least something that is relatively together. Sometimes poetry comes out together, needing only little work. But other times, when you push for it, it doesn't always come out quite right the first time around. These are the pieces which I shy away from sharing. That or it is simply far too personal. I'm not sure what it is about words which impact me enough to only share certain ones. Well, I have an idea of why some of it is that way.

The question I've been balancing, though, is how far I want to push myself with it.

Until then, I thought I'd put a few entries in my writers notebook down here. Some may have already unfolded into posts that are here, others may come in their due time, and others may remain, ready and waiting for the muse to hit me.


The collision of cultures
Relatively clean varsity team
moral maturity
don't cool off, I like your warmth.
I try to tell my head to try to tell my heart
Another example of bus throwing.
The history of my dreams.
No time for showers when you're writing about Higher Education
Cooler than the flip side of my pillow
The honest cries of breaking hearts are better than a hallelujah
So that I can finally see where you go when you're gone.
You sit in the garden, clutching my coffee, calling me sugar.
It's not about how we do things, it's about how we think about things.
I'm suffering from time poverty.
We're only half way past the point of no return.
Test tube toilets
Even when my door changes location.
My throat hurts from not telling.
Predictably irrational.
My job is based on the whims of 17 year-olds
Frustration is bread from passion
Headline as headaches
assault my eyes
The spiritual journey almost always involves traveling companions.
The concept of mothering many through how you live your life verses mothering (instead) the children you have.
How ethics connects to passion.
Odious
If change takes a great deal of time, why then do we struggle when we experience change?
I miss the sound of your voice.


You may recognize some of these as song lyrics, one even came from a commercial. Mostly, though, they come from every day conversations, class discussions, and the every day elements that fill my life.

If you're out there reading this, please feel free to take anything that might have grabbed hold of you and run with it. Go write. Think. Enjoy. Words are an amazing thing, cherish them.

Since you see me, here, reflecting upon and looking into these little gems, chances are good that poetry is coming. Or, prose. Perhaps a short story. Something has slowly been building. But finals are also here. Either long streaks of creative writing is about to explode or a spell of academia will consume me. It could be both. Feel free to stay tuned.