Just Checking In

I was in Florida this week. I didn't like it. It wasn't warm. The most exciting conversation I had was with a parrot named Murphy that just said "hewwo". Having lived in the same place for my whole life, getting home from a week away felt the same as getting home from school. And although I didn't much enjoy Florida, I'm not exactly thrilled to be coming home to school again. It wasn't so bad, I guess. It's just that we stayed on this creepy little island with nothing to do but "look at nature", and all the old people rode their bikes everywhere and rung their little bells when they rode by.
Anyway, I kept up with my poem a day although most of them weren't much to be proud of. Discipline first, though, and I did them all. Tonight will be the eighteenth. I'm finding that with writing them, even though I sometimes don't like what I get, it always seems to say to me what I wanted it to. I think it happens that way because I tend to do them kind of backwards. I think of how I want my poem to feel, and then I try to convey it. There must be more than one way it can be for it to feel like it's what I meant to do. If it comes out the way I wanted it to, I should like it and think it's good, but sometimes I don't.