tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54469051113256967712024-03-07T23:12:02.239-06:00mostly renate's writingSometimes I write, once in a while, it's worth something.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-56594157470861727672011-09-15T09:08:00.000-05:002011-09-15T09:10:24.093-05:00Rest Until Night<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix"><div><p>Insanity starts slowly and creeps in on you, drip by drip, drop by drop, like coffee in a coffee pot, or chinese water torture, filling your mind a little at a time. At first, no one notices, or at the most they think you're a bit eccentric, but eventually it becomes harder and harder to hide. Then you might become a writer or an artist and you can change the name of insanity to imagination or creativity and that makes it okay, even makes it cool. Your mind can overflow onto paper or canvas and others who are happy to know there are those in the world who have thoughts crazier than they do, might even pay money for those thoughts, for that feeling, or idea, or image. They write to let you know how creative or artistic they think you are and thank you for that poem or painting or image that made them feel just a little less insane than you. You feel better because something in your story or your art resonated with them and so you're not alone in this world after all.</p><p> </p><p>writing is a lonely battle. One person, one mind, one pen against a blank page. You don't know where the pen will take you next, but you're pretty sure it's going to be painful, and so you begin the trudge uphill, whacking away at a never-ending tangle of thoughts and metaphors, trying to make sense of the senseless. Love and Death and the Universe. You've decided they make no sense, but you have to try anyway, because to give up would be to lose the battle, and the battle is what keeps you going. The thing can be terrifying and at the same time exhilirating. You try to explain that to someone else, but those who understand, who truly understand, are few and far between. After all, who would be afraid of letters on a page? Twenty-six letters. Twenty-six letters and variations of those letters come together and from the same twenty-six letters come stories of kittens and killers and that's where things get scary.</p><p> </p><p>Insanity, starts out slowly, a thought or two, nothing to be concerned about. Insanity sleeps during the day and is up all night. Poking, prodding at you, like the moments before Christmas morning. Pushing and pulling, throwing your thoughts around like a puppy with its favorite toy. Tearing at your psyche until you're left rumpled up in a pile in the corner of your room. You wake in the morning, and escape the thoughts for a while, caught up in breakfast, and dishes and learning and work, a thought or two might peek over the edge of your day, shadows in the corner, to remind you of what nighttime will bring - but mostly insanity rests until night.</p></div></div>renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-63032240092297504292010-10-07T16:36:00.001-05:002010-10-07T16:36:57.580-05:00The DungeonStudied words that make no sense<br />ashamed of my own ignorance<br />I cried into my pillow quietly<br /><br />Locked myself in tight<br />and held on<br />just trying to get through those teenage years<br /><br />Wondered what would become of me<br />locked myself in tight and lost the key<br /><br />Grey walls, broken window, crack down the wall,<br />if I didn't call it home, wouldnt call it much of anything at all.<br /><br />Train tracks going by<br />take me anywhere but here<br />If I just start running<br />maybe wind will take away the tears<br /><br />Locked myself in tight<br />and held on<br />just trying to get through those teenage years<br /><br />Those days come back to haunt me<br />Those days come back to haunt me<br /><br />Laughs were few and far between<br />the dungeon was my personal pit of despair<br />but I grew stronger, pushing through,<br />and eventually got out of there.<br /><br />There are tracks down the street now,<br />but they're just not the same.<br /><br />Miss the tracks alongside our street<br />that said if you start walking,<br />just start running,<br />there ain't no telling who you'll meet.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-33255125182003303782010-04-28T22:31:00.001-05:002010-04-28T22:34:14.801-05:00JohnI held you last night,<br />but not for long enough.<br />I kissed you today,<br />but not for long enough.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-3488739885724191412010-04-28T22:27:00.002-05:002010-04-28T22:31:20.081-05:00ChristelWe told you<br />not to go around<br />telling everyone<br />you're smart.<br /><br />I don't know why,<br />we'd try to hold<br />you back.<br /><br />I ask you questions,<br />you answer<br />and start to say<br />"I'm so smart"<br />but stop yourself.<br /><br />Instead you say,<br />"Mom, you're so smart.<br />Don't you want to tell me<br />that I'm smart too?"<br /><br />Sometimes, I think<br />you're too smart<br />for your own good,<br />and the apple doesn't<br />fall far from the tree.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-54444924560854747832010-04-28T22:20:00.002-05:002010-04-28T22:27:09.543-05:00AmyYou drift<br />into sleep<br />hand clutching my side<br />as though you'll never<br />need a teddy bear,<br />you have everything<br />necessary for<br />a good night's sleep.<br /><br />During the day,<br />if I stray too far<br />from your sight<br />you come look for me,<br />reach up<br />and wait<br />expectantly.<br />You know,<br />I'll always<br />pick you up.<br /><br />At night,<br />you stir a little<br />reach for me,<br />if I'm there<br />you settle back in<br />to sleep again,<br />if not<br />you seek me out<br />snuggle into<br />the crook of my arm<br />and drift away.<br /><br />These are the moments<br />I don't want to lose.<br />These are the moments<br />I etch in stone.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-51555705677379678142010-04-28T22:09:00.003-05:002010-04-28T22:14:07.535-05:00To YouI know I didn't say it often enough, but I always thought you were cool. I appreciate now, things that you said to me then, even if I didn't know enough then to thank you for caring. I wish Christel and Amy got the chance to be raised around you. I wish they could hear you on the guitar. There's a lot that I wish had been different and now it never will be.<br /><br />I hope that I can do enough in my lifetime to know that you would have been proud of what I have/will become. I should have thanked you for coming into my life and trying to be there for me in any way that I would allow, instead I just said that you weren't my dad and I didn't have to listen to what you said. I hope you understood that I was just a stupid kid when I said those things.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-12940050891080431252009-01-25T19:53:00.000-06:002009-01-25T19:54:39.572-06:00Glitter GirlsThere's something about glitter. Christel bought a little set from dollar general. Lip Gloss and glitter. So now we're all three glittery. Fun Fun. :)renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-48677256374629607272009-01-24T12:31:00.003-06:002009-01-24T12:37:32.864-06:00old writingPlaying on archive.org today, with the wayback machine. Thought I'd post some from my archives.<br /><br />Everything is in constant flux.<br />The only thing that is certain is that nothing is certain.<br />Everything is destined to change at any time<br />thus the greater truth is also in constant flux and therefore unattainable.<br />Since the greater truth is unattainable this leaves us free to stop the<br />search for the greater truth which only leads to confusion and live life instead.<br />Everything is nothing and nothing is everything.<br /><br />In high school when a person is having a problem it seems as though<br />life itself has stopped, as though the world has stopped spinning.<br />Within a number of years these problems are hardly remembered much less<br />causing the world to stop spinning,<br />and so what felt like everything turns out to be next to nothing.<br />Yet, these problems at the time really are everything<br />to the person involved sometimes to the point of causing suicide.<br /><br />If people realized the state of flux they would never take their own lives.<br />In living life a person learns small truths.<br />These small truths add up eventually to form a greater truth.<br />It still will never be reached and is in fact different for each person, changing with experience.<br /><br />I refuse to search for the greater truth.<br /><br />I will instead note smaller truths that will help me live life to the best of my ability.<br />I will smile in your direction at every chance I get.<br />I will learn to enjoy the noise my brother makes when he's here because<br />it's much better than the silence that would be if he wasn't.<br />I will write out my ideas because they are as valid as anyone else's.<br />I will read anything I can get my hands on that will better my understanding of life.<br />I will seek that person who understands best where I'm coming from.<br /><br />When I find him I will reach out and hold his hand when I have that impulse<br />rather than worrying about reaction from his side.<br /><br />I will smile in your direction at every chance I get.<br />I will share what I'm thinking ( I think you're a beautiful human being)<br />because it's important to have thoughts out in the open where they can do some good (you're also important to me)<br /><br />This may not be the greater truth but it is a small part of the greater truth.<br />The greater truth is in constant flux.<br />The fact that the greater truth is unattainable does not mean the search should be discontinued,<br />the search should instead be changed to accommodate the changing.<br />Search for smaller truths.<br />Love is a smaller truth.<br />Rather than getting lost in this search for greater truth and pushing away those who care<br />reach out and tell those you care about that you care. (I care about you.)<br /><br />Stop worrying so much about how to reach that which can't be reached anyway.<br /><br />It's like air - all around and seemingly nowhere,<br />grasping for stars,<br />chasing down moonbeams,<br />the search for the end of the rainbow as a child.<br /><br />Everything is nothing, nothing is everything.<br /><br />Love and connections, combined searches for smaller truths make it all worthwhile.<br /><br />If this speaks to you, it was written for you.<br /><br />Care to help me search?renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-53981228116331661162009-01-24T08:57:00.003-06:002009-01-24T09:02:40.603-06:00AvalancheThis is not<br />the last poem I will write<br /><br />-though it might as well be.<br /><br />Pen in hand -<br />I've run out of things to say -<br />so instead of writing<br /><br />I should wash dishes instead.<br /><br />Standing in front of the sink<br />running water and clinking dishes<br />drowning out the worries of the day,<br />week,<br />month,<br />year,<br />lifetime.<br /><br />Each moment passes<br />stranger than the last.<br /><br />Each day passes<br />with a new lesson learned.<br /><br />Year after year, ticks by<br />like snowflakes<br />quietly building up<br />in a drift outside,<br />until I wake at 90<br />and realize an avalanche buried me<br />during the night<br />locking me in, or worse.<br /><br />I stand in front of the sink<br />this moment<br />at 29<br />overwelmed by the mere thought<br />of living to be 90 - and more than<br />a little scared.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-91665137760285503272009-01-24T08:04:00.000-06:002009-01-24T08:05:39.548-06:00Thomas Merton quote“We must begin by frankly admitting that the first place in which to go looking for the world is not outside us but in ourselves. We are the world. In the deepest ground of our being we remain in metaphysical contact with the whole of that creation in which we are only small parts. Through our senses and our minds, our loves, needs, and desires, we are implicated, without possibility of evasion, in this world of matter and of men, of things and of persons, which not only affect us and change our lives but are also affected and changed by us…The question, then, is not to speculate about how we are to contact the world – as if we were somehow in outer space – but how to validate our relationship, give it a fully honest and human significance, and make it truly productive and worthwhile for our world.“ - From Love and Livingrenatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-12626739787408157532009-01-23T08:12:00.000-06:002009-01-23T08:21:48.712-06:00Things that make me happy<ul><li>Watching my girls give each other a hug first thing in the morning</li><li>Hugging my girls</li><li>When Christel gets excited about going for a walk</li><li>Meditating</li><li>Quiet moments reading</li><li>Coffee!</li><li>Amy singing the ABCs</li><li>Helping Christel learn</li><li>Learning</li><li>Conversations with Friends</li><li>Getting a line just right in my writing</li><li>Old school video game music </li><li>Reading</li></ul><p> </p><p>It's important for me to document these things, to go back to as I'm going through this process. Sometimes, I forget what makes me happy.</p>renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-13309508051003852332009-01-22T19:29:00.000-06:002009-01-22T19:33:35.849-06:00A time when things were simpleI long for a time when things were simple, When I love you, was enough.<br /><br />Somewhere, there is a life like that. I pray someday it finds me.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-74859156936145764892009-01-20T20:17:00.000-06:002009-01-20T20:19:20.825-06:00A long timeWell, I didn't finish making it through the artist's way. I got sidetracked by life. It happens.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-40856005286886702372008-09-16T00:07:00.000-05:002008-09-16T00:08:02.893-05:00writer's blocki sit<br /><br />attempt to write<br /><br />a sentence<br />any sentence<br /><br />please just let me<br />say something worthwhile<br /><br />help me change a life<br /><br />here it comes<br />the life-changing words<br /><br />hug your babies, hug yourselfrenatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-35848894320629514872008-09-13T00:38:00.000-05:002008-09-13T00:41:29.944-05:00Artist's dateI did it! I managed to spend a couple of hours creatively. I gave my poetry site, <a href="http://www.poetryuprising.com/">http://www.poetryuprising.com</a> a new look tonight as my artist date. :) I'm happy to have spent a bit making it look better than it did. The old files are still there actually, because I don't have all my poems in the new format yet.<br /><br />I've also kept up with the morning pages really well all week long. Even on the days I was stressed in the morning and didn't feel like doing them. Even on the mornings amy climbed all over me (um just about every morning). Even on the mornings when John was at home. I did my morning pages first thing.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-48436077988116800082008-09-10T20:15:00.000-05:002008-09-10T20:18:20.357-05:00Artist's WayMorning pages aren't easy, but I'm getting used to them. I worked on some of the exercises today too. I need to figure out when to work on my artist's date for this week. Maybe I'll carve out the time tomorrow if kids are occupied at the same time.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-7669938804937605122008-09-08T00:31:00.000-05:002008-09-08T00:34:53.199-05:00Crazy Morning PagesThis morning, I didn't think I was going to make it through the three pages, but I did. If I could type them instead of doing them longhand, I think it'd be easier, but a pen and a notebook seems to draw the 1 year old into crawling all over me trying to make me stop writing. She's awake, so not much I can do about it really. I can't seem to wake up before she does. Then my husband came in early from work today, not feeling well, right in the middle of my morning pages. I think it took me over an hour to muddle my way through this time, but I did it.<br /><br />I didn't do much else, but I did decide on what to do for my Artist's Date this week and a friend will be starting with her morning pages tomorrow so I'll have a little accountability. That's always cool. This blog that no one ever sees, serves as accountability of sorts as well I suppose, aside from the fact that no one ever sees it. :)renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-29284301479932925302008-09-06T11:58:00.000-05:002008-09-06T12:10:38.081-05:00Day two Morning PagesMorning pages this morning were a bit difficult. I got through them, but it feels sort of weird to write with nothing to say. In the book, Julia Cameron says morning pages aren't just for writers and that they can sometimes actually be more difficult for writers, who want to "write" them. The whole idea is to get the junk out, so stopping the censor can be difficult for me. Plus my pen kept running out of ink, and I got a phone call. All that in the span of writing three pages longhand.<br /><br />I definitely see the value in it. Yesterday, I helped a friend rewrite a couple of paragraphs and I did a lot of journalling of my own. Plus, I worked on the exercises from chapter 1 some, which included listing the monsters of your creativity and the champions of your creativity. Basically, tracing back the negative junk in your head about your own creativity and writing, to the people who put it there and doing the same for the positive. I have a few on each side. I had teachers tell me in high school, I should rethink my desire to major in English, but in 11th grade, I had a teacher who I thought was just awesome. He brought back what others crushed. In fact, the next year, I worked as his teacher's aide so that I could hear him again. I did major in English and I did really well in all of my college English and Writing classes. The only classes I got Cs in had nothing to do with my major. Geology, C++, and Pottery.<br /><br /> The C in Pottery, I swear was a pity grade, because in all reality, my pottery was a horrible experiment gone wrong. I thought that taking a pottery class first thing in the morning, would be relaxing. In reality, being in with a bunch of art majors, and me never getting the hang of throwing a pot, it was really comical. I thought about starting my own line: Imperfection as an Artform.<br /><br />C++ I was actually good at and I had fun with the class. I got an A the first semester but a C in the second because I blew the final and I didn't do too well on a test, I think. It was a tumultuous time in my life, and my last semester in college.<br /><br />The Cs in both Geology classes. I have no excuses. I'm just not much for Science. I didn't study enough and I fell asleep in class.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-55622965709612946552008-09-05T11:59:00.000-05:002008-09-05T12:04:43.414-05:00First day of Morning PagesThis morning, I completed my first day of morning pages for the Artist's Way. It's definitely an interesting process and one I plan to stick to. Yesterday and the day before, I did "Amy's Nap Pages" but I do think there's a difference in doing them first thing in the morning. My mind feels a lot more clear now and I like being able to write out my dreams from the night before, before they get too fuzzy. It'll be interesting to go back to when I'm at the end of the course. Anyway, right when I got started with this course, a creative project has fallen in my lap that I'm excited about. :)renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-72288121505462075752008-09-05T00:08:00.000-05:002008-09-05T00:11:34.833-05:00Starting a new blogAs I muddle my way through the 12 weeks of the Artist's Way. I'm hoping to dig up some new writing and I wanted somewhere new to collect it all. I could add it to my web site, of course, and I might eventually. For now, though, this shiny new pink blog will do the trick.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-7173295150341056262008-09-05T00:07:00.000-05:002008-09-05T00:08:10.795-05:00HouseflyFly on the wall<br />don't tell<br />the secrets of our household<br /><br />-and you might live to see<br />another day.<br /><br />On second thought<br />-you know too much already<br />and so there's a flyswatter<br />with your name on it.<br /><br />Don't worry<br />your secrets will be safe<br />with me.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-11322206324856649802008-09-05T00:04:00.000-05:002008-09-05T00:05:51.188-05:00There are days when it's expectedThis gnawing, empty feeling<br />Remembering, and afraid of a day when I won't remember.<br /><br />Thinking of the protection I once felt but no longer do or can or will.<br /><br />There are days when it's expected.<br />February, on your birthday.<br />Christmas,<br />Father's Day,<br />Thanksgiving.<br /><br />July 12th, when I got the call that you were gone.<br /><br />Those are days I brace myself for.<br /><br />Remembering your calls to check on me and make sure that everything was okay.<br />Remembering your hands on your guitar.<br /><br />The guitar I wanted to learn to play, but was too lazy to practice those three chords over and over.<br /><br />Remembering you saying "Now that I have a captive audience, which lecture do you want to hear?" as you drove me to school.<br /><br />There are days when it's expected, and then there is today.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5446905111325696771.post-3791833903610115802008-09-04T23:58:00.000-05:002008-09-05T00:00:54.740-05:00Heart-shaped PotatoFor David<br /><br />Of all the lessons<br />that I've learned<br />Of all the thoughts<br />that you've burned into my mind<br />that's the one I hope sticks<br /><br />That something as simple<br />as a potato shaped like a heart<br />deserves to be remembered<br />or made into art, immortalized.<br /><br />That's what the world is about<br />these moments - calm and quiet<br />that we can bring up<br />again and again - long after<br />those we experience them with are gone<br /><br />Of all the lessons I carry<br />with me through life<br />I think of this most often:<br />Always sit in the speaker seat.<br />Become one with the music.<br />Life's too short not to.renatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11240406876117707486noreply@blogger.com0