This Is An Actual Blog Post.
(you’ve been warned)
I became a poet towards the end of the two-thousand-oughts. It wasn’t by design, but rather, desperation. I was writing for an online Citizen Journal, enjoying some popularity there, and learning what it meant to contribute regularly with my words to a community of writers.
Some people actually thought I was kinda good at it.
My intention all along was NOT to blog, but rather, to write. As in real writing, not the self-congratulatory bullshit that passes itself off as writing in the blog world. Writing, as in script-to-screen or, if I was lucky and could fool the right people, a long-form short story or novel. Blogging, to my snot-nosed thinking, was what people who could neither do, nor teach, did with their caffeine-addled latte musings. Writing was what genuinely talented people did to convey their misunderstood genius and get PAID for it.
Like Aaron Sorkin, but without all the rehab.
But like a great lost number of self-described writers, my words became fewer as my problems became greater. Employment, intended to pay the freight and pave the way for enough income to support my future career, became more and more time-all-consuming, and insensitive to the needs of the future I imagined. Marriage, once the backbone of my beliefs about existence and God, crumbled, leaving me to spend more hours re-evaluating what I believed and stood for than I had ever spent in the crafting of beautiful strings of my meaningless vocabulary. Life, for all its infinite beauty, wore a widow’s veil, obscuring my vision while I waited for the exile of mourning in the guise self-pity to pass.
It never did.
Until the day I posted,
“If you don’t love your life… change your life.”
Because employment was not my life. Marriage was not my life. And life (for all its infinite beauty) was not my life. As I looked around at what was passing (and passing away) as my life, I realized that none of those things could any longer define me. None of those things any longer made me who I was. A job was just a job. Expectations and commitments pass away. And words don’t come neatly packaged for the gifting of them. Existence is sloppy, but life is beautiful, if you live it beyond the details. So, in just one moment of time, I wrote, “If you don’t love your life… change your life.”
Which brings us to November 1st, 2015.
Nothing says change quite like swallowing your pride and letting go of your preconceptions, or in my case, BLOGGING. November 1st is the official first day of Blogging Season. Having once mocked all the Nano-this, and Poemo-that, today, I give in to change. This is my first entry in the 30 day rollercoaster of word terror called Nano Poblano, a tiny, less neurotic subdivision of NaBloPoMo. The month when writer’s lives are ruined for the better. If you’ve made it all the way down this page, you have just read post number one. For 30 days, I will be opening myself up to all manner of writer crazies, shared with you in the form of posts, poems, photos, and… lots of other stuff, written on the fly and on deadline. I’ve been told it’ll be fun. For you, AND me. Not sure if I believe that yet, but you’re here and I’m here. Let’s find out.
Next up, for tomorrow…
Rhyming words that don’t.