Not A Poet (Misinformed)

Turns out that I'm not a naturally gifted poet, despite what I thought. So now I actually have to work in my Creative Writing class to get good grades. Ridiculous!

But really, from what the professor tells me, I'm good at structure, form, and playing with language, but I'm too abstract. I need to be better at imagery.



I suppose if I really want to do well in that class, I might have to dig into what's real in my life. Crushes on the womenfolk, trouble at home, peace at school, and the endless working and learning process which I've finally found myself able to enjoy again.

Side note: This new blogger setup makes me feel like I can write a lot, so I might be wordy. If you (meaning the extreme lack of people who read this) dislike that, go to my Tumblr. Everything there is short and scrumptious. This blog is for the more dedicated, and, therefore, for no one.

Can I be honest here? I just wish that I could get coffee with people and them not be so busy as to make that an impossibility. In the last two weeks, I've asked like 5-10 people out for coffee, and only Katie managed it (and she lives next to the coffeeshop). I just want to get to know people where they are. And to learn why they do what they do, and what makes them tick. A big way to give depth to friendships is to have real talks about life, and the less limited you are on time (at least an hour is essential), the better it will be.

I tend to angle my blog a little towards whatever readers I may have, but since I'm without a following, I suppose that I can write whatever I like. Unlike every other social networking site, where I feel constrained to a particular style and content.

Right now, I'm missing that precious period of time when I'm in bed, waiting to fall asleep, when creativity flows and I'm imagining that I can fly, and that I pull a Superman and tell my crush to stand on my feet, then I fly us into the stars, somehow incorporating "A Whole New World" from Aladdin into the mix. The alternative to that would be to think of the songs "Set Down Your Glass" and "The Planets Bend Between Us" by Snow Patrol, and imagine myself to be the speaker in those wondrous pieces of poetry, walking up to and along the Northern Coast of Ireland, huddling into each other.

"And I'm shaken that I'm still;
When your eyes meet mine
I lose simple skills
Like to tell you
All I want
Is now."

Favorite.