last week someone challenged me to start writing again. he's not the first one that has suggested i write as a type of catharsis. as a matter of fact, he's one of several over the past couple of years, but the most recent that really made me think. i've been journaling throughout my illness, and i've written a few poems here and there, but i have purposely not written anything creative in the past nine months or so for two reasons: 1) i've been mentally exhausted after teaching all day and 2) i haven't wanted to creatively discover what might have been hidden so deep. blogging and journaling seemed to be a safer route to catharsis than the truth of poetry.
since last week, i've read through some of my work from the past five years, and i've tried to look at the world around me through a poet's eyes like i used to. i wrote so many essays in grad school that i think my poetry skills have become a little rusty. especially word placement, not so much diction because my diction has always been frank; well, i dance around the issue a little, like in real life. not like that of my poet friend michelle. she was my comrade during our years in undergrad. absolutely astounding how she manipulated the english language.
but i did write a short something about my glasses sitting on my desk. :) and i unearthed the novel i started five years ago. i guess i'm a writer again.
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ps: please note "apart" is the act of being separate from something. i know you mean "a part".
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