New Year Reflections

I just realized that I have been doing this blog for a little over a year. My first entry was October 11th, 2008.



Now that 2009 has come and gone, I look back over my musings and am thankful for the opportunity to share my thoughts with you.



I am currently looking forward to and extremely excited about my sister's visit in January. Christmas was a blur, another day to tick off the calendar toward the day she arrives from across the country.



My year has been full of blessings and other, more difficult, types of blessings. Challenges and other types of growing opportunities.

Thank you for your support.

Infatuation

Inspired by a new friend who is an amazing poet and writer, I scribbled out this "teen-aged" poem. This is my tooth pick sized stab at the Dragon of spoken word that I have recently experienced. Conjured up while sitting one night after a late ride listening to my friend's moving words. I just had to give it a try. When I wrote this, I imagined that she was speaking the words. She is such an entertainer when she is on the stage and all eyes are on her. There is a light from within her that shines and is magnified by her voice. I'm a fan.

Enjoy. Maybe one day I will have the nerve to stand behind a microphone and speak aloud the words of my heart.

I'm sitting here trying to figure out how I can be a part of your life.
How can I be the one you call when you have strife. The one to comfort you when you've had a shitty day, if for no other reason than to tell you that it will be okay.
Even when things are so fucked up, you want to give up...I want to be the one to make you smile.
Can we just sit here for a while? I think you're so amazing.

I listen to your voice and imagine you are talking to me. Your voice says things that the words don't speak. It is like a message in there just for me. Or am I kidding myself?
I don't know what to do. I know I want to see you. I want to get to know more about this amazing person I have encountered.
There is something so real about you and guarded. Open and still a mystery.
The mad scientist in me wants to know "who, what, where, when, why and how". She wants to know what makes you tick.
The Coley in me just wants to know you. To tick to your tock. She wants to share time with you and hear your stories. She wants to tell you a few stories of her own. To share with you friendship and love.
"Love" is not a four letter word to me but a basis of my character. The warmth and that extra squeeze in my hug.
I just want to hold hands and walk. See the world around us unfold and fill with color as we travel this path for a while. I don't know what the future holds. I think it would be great if you were in mine and I in yours.

I'm just sayin'.....this is what I wrote when I thought about you.

Spoken Word

I recently attended a poetry reading for the first time. It was amazing!

I am sad to report that my preconceptions about the whole spoken word experience have been negatively affected by too much television. The event I attended was an intimate affair put on my Dare2BDifferent productions, I think that is how it is spelled.

I am having a hard time putting the experience into words. It doesn't really make sense to me. "WOW!" is the first thing to comes to mind.
I am hoping to attend more events. I was so entertained! I admire people that can express themselves in an artistic way. I can talk, but for some reason the concept of doing spoken word makes me so nervous. I am fighting the urge to run away from my computer right now.

It is so wonderful to listen to the words and stories of other people, creatively delivered while enjoying a nice glass of wine. I feel like an adult!

There was even a young girl there. She was getting up in front of a room of strangers for the first time! I had to tell her that she was impressing the hell out of me. I can babble in front of a crowd, but to read aloud, to strangers, the thoughts in my head is frightening. I realize, intellectually that there isn't much difference. "You go girl!" I thought as I saw this young, skinny and decidedly nervous child go to the microphone. She clutched a piece of paper in her hand with her thoughts written on it. She took a breath. Her soft voice escaped her mouth. She read her poem and thoughts of young love filled my mind like colors of a painting being created in my mind's eye, fleshed out in the words. I recalled feelings of being young and loving. I liked the poem, but not the feelings. Art can be like that.

There were other artists that shared their words. Crafted and sharp, lyrical and stunning. I even thought, "How did they know about me?" It couldn't be. Sometimes I don't realize that other people feel the same way about life, love, work and relationships as I do. I felt strangely connected to these people, strangers really, and disconnected from the many things that distract and worry me.
Yes. I think I would like to do that again. As a matter of fact, my sister's birthday is coming up and we are going to another poetry event.

I look forward to sharing more.