July 8, 2003

11:52 a.m.

well I finished my three haiku for tonight’s class

Cloudless Canada Day
Cotton candy—pink and blue
Twenty sticky fingers

Cutting through white clouds
Barrel rolls up to the sun
My toes grip the grass

Cherry blossoms tumble
One horseman’s shadow settles
A child’s light goes out

The first two I wrote on july 3rd and they’re about things that happened when I spent Canada day with Patrick. The last one I wrote this morning. Light instead of life… I felt like my light was going out. Think I’m going to walk to school in a bit…. Well, maybe around 3:30 then I can stop at the bank and then hang out in the computer lab or the library. I have to go to the financial aid office at 4 (don’t know if they’ll still be open but I don’t want to have hours and hours to wait before my class) to see about job postings through douglas. I’m pretty much fucked for financial aid since I own my car.

10:56 p.m.
Last night, I called my mom to talk since I hadn’t talked to her since the Friday before. Then ryan called me back right after that and we are going to work on my resume tomorrow at noon. Then I decided to call wendy and catch up on things. So that was three calls in a row. I had just gotten undressed to go to bed and the phone rang again. it was 10:15. I answered it because no one else was home to answer it and it was Patrick… which I already said up there. We talked for about 15 minutes and then he said something about dropping by today, but then realized that wouldn’t work with Karen (who he drives to and from work) in the car. So he said he’d call me around 5 p.m. I was planning on leaving for Douglas at 3:30 today so I was going to email him once I was there and say why I wasn’t there to answer his call. But he arrived at my place at 330 and stayed till 630 when he dropped me off at school. He’s reaching a lot more, but I know it comes in waves, so now I’m just waiting for him to slack off again. I’m not worried with him coming around a lot, I feel a little crowded sometimes but that is better than feeling frustrated and lonely, now that I think about it. My initial reaction was I need space, but I think space would be harder to deal with.
I think I’m starting to get back into the writing poetry mode. I talked to my instructor after class today about how long he’d been writing and when he got published. He got in magazines and journals at 21, and a book when he was 30. he said he wrote (and I guess he still does write) every day. I’m going to find some of his poetry and try to write a little bit every day, too. I’m scared to try and force stuff. I feel like it’s going to be fake or trite or contrived or cliché if I write when its not absolutely pouring out of me without me consciously thinking about it. I really like my third haiku up there. I should send some more of my poetry to my mom. And my dad. Let them be more involved in the writing I love to do. Another thought I had—while walking home this evening—what if my enjoyment of poetry dies out once I start actually trying to do something with it? And can I actually get anywhere with it if I’m not as into the intricacies of it as so many in my class are… and all the knowledge about the other poets and picking apart their poems. I’m just not into that. I like reading poems that speak to me, not poems that I have to decipher. Maybe that sounds ignorant.