Month: August 2021

August 11, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

a few years ago
during a holiday visit with Kip’s aunt and grandmother
i offhandedly stated (while looking at the various projects and things around the room)
that, as a person who sews, i should have probably gotten into embroidery and cross-stitching
a long long time ago,
but i’d never even tried.
and there was a flurry of limbs, fabrics, and plastic bags
and out popped a cute little cross-stitch kit,
complete with thread, tiny beads, directions, and two extra pairs of small scissors, just in case.

and that started me on a new fabric arts journey
cross-stitch gave way to small embroidery projects,
which gave way to large embroidery projects,
still within kits
(bought by my gifts-as-love-language spouse for nearly every gift-giving occasion)
and i started to memorize the stitch names
experiment a little bit with colors and paths and techniques

and then there was a global pandemic
and everyone needed to stay at home
and everyone needed to find something to do while they were staying at home
and a ton of people got into the fiber arts

and i got…
contrary.

i knew it would happen.
i could feel it in my bones.
as more and more people started falling in love with this art i’d been falling for,
i could feel myself protective of it,
i could feel myself resistant to posting about it,
for fear folks might think i just got into it for lack of something better to do.
rather than be joyous about more and more people seeing the benefit of this older art,
i just got petty

and i tried and tried and tried to tell myself not to,
and i tried and tried and tried to enjoy folks who found it as a life-saver during this global trauma,
but i just
couldn’t.

but i also knew i’d come back
i knew it wouldn’t last
(my distain for newbies,
my silly gatekeeping),
so i simply stopped my project
and began to enjoy different arts,
i poem-ed
and painted
and film-edited,
and i did not share any opinions online
because there’s enough negativity on there [here] to last several billion lifetimes,
and because i knew it would fade
and i would be left with an even stronger community,
or simply with even more people’s projects to look at
while bored online

and of course, i did
(and with an even freer sense to experiment a little
when following the directions felt stale)
and i love looking at people’s projects from the depths of the pandemic,
and i now know this fact about myself even better:
i will be contrary at first,
but i won’t try to keep that gate closed
for very long.

August 10, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

with Louka
all ‘old dog’ ill
we’ve been sleeping on the couch(es) downstairs
to make sure she’s alright
through the night,
and also to be close by
to sense
if she might need
to go outside at 12, 1, 2, 3 in the morning
(which has happens more times than we’d like)
and i feel like our low-key exhaustion,
the whole not actually sleeping through the entire night,
the aches and pains from couch-sleeping,
this whole ordeal
is mimic-ing
infant child-care
not to the point where i believe it 100% is exactly the same,
but to the point where, in the past, i’ve listened to stories
of tired parents
discuss how they’re just always tired,
it’s a fact of life that they never sleep through the night,
and i’ve thought to myself, “i don’t know if i could do that…
i’ve suffered from such insomnia in the past
my sleep is sacred now,
and on the off-chance i’m actually in a bout of semi-good sleep,
to have the cause of an un-restful night be not my own brain,
i’m unsure if i could stop myself from being resentful,
and i know i’m my best when i get 7-8 hours of sleep,
or a night or two of less than four,
but these parents are talking about a near year of 3-5 hour nights
and i just don’t think
i can.”
but this experience,
this mimic-ing,
it’s taught me
that when one is the caretaker
of a being they love without conditions
lack of sleep isn’t really that big of a deal,
and (similar to how i survived high school)
there’s a certain point where exhaustion
just becomes your daily natural state
and you just
kind of
deal.

August 9, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

every time i type the word August
i read it in my head as august
like the adjective
like distinguished and respected,
impressive and esteemed;
contemplating the connection
between the month and the prestigiousity
[and i know full well
that the month comes from the person,
the Augustus of it all,
but, i mean, another few synonyms
for the adjective
are distinguished, high ranking, exalted, noble,
imperial,
and i think, though they may [or may not] have been connected
linguistically
in the past,
they just might be connected again
now…]

August 8, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

finding the perfect music station
is an art
(one i’m not nearly as familiar with
as my spouse)
and so when i’m doing my morning pages/poems
without them
(because sleep is a necessity)
and have to find some morning tunes
on my own
i never land on
what i initially think i’ll land on…

at least there’s coffee.

~~~

so hungry
but i’m not used to eating while writing
i eat and suddenly i want
passive entertainment
it seems this old dog needs to learn a couple new tricks

~~~

if i leave
and come back
will i keep the thread of morning poetry?

~~~

fed,
caffeinated,
[not yet watered],
and i feel so much better able to
really get into these here morning page poems

is this what i *should* be doing each morning?
instead of simply sipping coffee
and waiting until after i write to eat my breakfast?

or is this simply a daily thing
that changes around
and adjusts
as my own outlook
and mood
and level of tiredness
adjusts
day
by
day
by
day
?

~~~

i mean, if i’m going to be writing a million small poems
(and by a million, let’s be honest and say probably six)
might as well just
truly
go for it.

~~~

the nerves are starting to settle in
about class later on today
(this is why i enjoyed having a circus class prior to acting class
yes, i never got to nap,
but i also never spent half the day worrying about/obsessing over my performance)

i like how our teacher sets up the class
you perform, and then she asks what goals you had for that particular scene or monologue
and this week i’m simply hoping to continue the work
that suddenly broke free two weeks ago.
i want to breathe into the monologue,
i want to be in the moment,
and i want to use my own self-loathing
to create art
instead of beating myself down all the time.

and yes, the ultimate goal is health
and possibly, someday, not constantly feeling like the most worthless hunk of flesh on the planet,
but while that’s what it’s like in my brain,
might as well be honest
and use it to connect with this character i’ve been [not so secretly] wanting to play for ages,
and maybe if i can connect while i’m in the throes of
not-so-great mental health
maybe that means i can find my way in
when i am in a healthier mental state
remember the physical sensations
without being too harsh…

maybe?

but today isn’t about how to get there down the road
that’s not the goal today;
it’s to be in the present
to breathe into the moment
to know that i have all this inside me
and relax
and trust
and simply let myself shine through.

August 7, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

my bursts of energy
of passion
come when i least expect them

after a particularly successful acting class?
nah
after weeks and weeks and weeks of depression
almost as a way to bring myself out of the slump?
nah
after a few days of getting really into embroidery
and getting inspired by clothing design
and finishing my current re-watch of one tv show
(but still in the middle of another)
and finishing one project
and feeling like celebration is fine
but rest is not
and getting particularly bored
yes
that is exactly when i’ll want to record
and submit for gigs
and audition
and maybe apply for representation

i just wish there were a way to access this
when the depression sets in
and everything else is exactly the same
but the boredom goes into self-sabotage
instead of inspiration
(and i wish i knew how long this inspiration would last;
last time it stayed for barely a day,
hardly any time to get a gig,
much less apply to multiple)
but voiceover feels a little less enigmatic,
more accessible,
voiceover feels like me,
a me that doesn’t have to be ‘on’ every day
or at least can be comfortably adjusted
on a non-on day

i don’t know where i’m going with this poem
if i’m actually going anywhere
but i feel inspired
i feel invigorated
and i hope to keep this feeling
(i feel like i just might)

August 6, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

dear subconscious me,

please
don’t try to make me pay for the bus
in random change
and salt packets,
the me that is used to the world as it is
will be very resistant
(and very confused)

sincerely,
the part of my brain that was very aware my dream last night made little to no sense.

August 4, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

it’s the dichotomy
between
my very private personality
and my desire/impulse to overshare at every opportunity

it’s the balance to find
between
loving the little luxuries in life
and not feeling fully fulfilled
unless i’m working insanely hard

it’s the desire to be the raw, young talent
switching between
wanting to be respected, knowledgable, wise

it’s the old soul behind a young face,
it’s the bubbling energy inside an aging body

it’s the creativity battling the perfectionism
it’s the wanting to do good, placed against knowledge of how bad it really is

it’s loving humanity
and being so scared of people
all at the same time

it’s the dichotomy

and it’s forever battling inside me

(i have always identified with Aang,
but maybe i’m more like Zuko,
trying to prove myself,
working against insurmountable odds,
until another option shines through
and i realize i didn’t need to work that hard to begin with)

(that analogy didn’t lead where i initially thought it would…)

August 2, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

what to write
in these morning pages poetries
the cuffs on my sleeves are long
and tight
and the tightness in my chest is just a little bit looser
today
but i don’t wanna jinx it
(i never want to jinx it)
because we’re still waiting to hear back
and i’m still trying to get over my own shit in my own head
and the thread of this poem is slowly fraying
and i’m praying
(though i never pray)
(so much so that i have to look up whether it’s ‘prey’ or ‘pray’)
that someday i’m able to ride this roller coaster of life
inside one of the cars
instead of fishtailing off the last contraption
caught
and desperately catching
at
anything that passes me by
but it’s wizzing past too fast
and i can’t seem to grasp
anything for long enough to remember it by
so my memory is filled with blurry images
and the feeling in my stomach as we rise and free-fall and whip around corners and tumble and zoom and loop-the-loop and…
and…
and the longer i think about this
the more i realize
roller coaster as life is a cliché for a reason
the slow beginning
each year clicking by
taking an eternity
waiting for something to actually start
childhood
the track
set straight
controlled
and just when you think you have your shit figured out
just when you think you’re ready for the freedom
the track continues to box you in
but the pace is uncontrollable
and yes there are moments throughout
that aren’t quite as fast
but none of them are ever as slow
as the beginning
(except, maybe, the end)
and i’m trying not to think that i’ve discovered something crazy new,
that i’ve come upon flame for the first time
that i’m inventing the wheel
or anything like that
but it sure makes sense
and maybe those two cents on life
will help my brain sense of why i constantly feel so out of control
i need to control other parts of my being
with such a tight fist.