Titleworthy? Eh

I'm about to do one of those free write things that I've never been good at because it was a short week and there were only three days and I don't want to talk about the feast and what's really on my mind lately is that I can't write as well as I used to and I'm thinking that I know how and I just don't have time to do it like I want to and because I always write them in the same place on my bed at the same time right before I go to sleep and I used to write them on my roof in the summer but it's too cold outside now even though I did try the other night but it's not any warmer on the roof than it is on the ground but I've blogged a lot about not writing well lately so I don't want to talk about that anymore so I'll talk about how my brother was home this weekend and I realized that he's a really good person and also that even when I don't like him I have to love him and then I wonder if maybe everyone was my brother I could find away to forgive everyone and why should I forgive him if I can't forgive someone else.. just because he's my brother? That wasn't even in his control.. then again I guess everyone else can just be forgiven by their sisters but it's always harder for me not to forgive people anyway so I figure that if I could forgive someone if he was my family, I can forgive him even though he's not, and maybe I shouldn't forgive people all the time, but if I'm going to anyway (while I will) it's nice to have some justification and I don't know if this will come to anyone else as as much of a revelation as it did to me but it never really does for different people, especially not at the same time and I know I kind of broke all the grammar rules by making this one huge sentence but I thought it in one huge sentence so there it is.

Hopefully a Turning Point

I know that I could have done better this quarter. I didn't come out of it with anything I'm really proud of, so I must be doing something wrong. I think that the effort was mostly there, though, for everything except the portfolio. What angers me is that once I actually got to doing it, I had all these ideas but no time to sort them out or to do them justice. It was just the worst possible week for me. I still don't have an excuse considering we had more than a week, so I feel pretty much like a failure.
HOWEVER, coming out of this painfully long week feeling like utter crap, I was motivated to be super productive this weekend. That means not only homework and STAC stuff, but little things like my laundry and going for a decent run got done. I finally feel somewhat caught up with all of the stuff I've been putting off. If my closet is a mess, everything I do while my closet is a mess will have less quality than it would had my closet not been a mess. But my closet is clean, my laundry is done and put away, I posted about 40 poems yesterday and I still have 32 to go. I finally bought a new journal and transferred all the ones that I've been writing on scraps of paper for about a month into it because for a month I've just been too lazy to go buy a new journal. All of these things were just making me feel terrible. So here's me congratulating myself for being back on track, and here's me setting a goal to have this attitude as often as possible.

Maybe If I Write About Writer's Block It'll Go Away

So I'm still writing my daily poem. As soon as I'm not super busy with work, I'll post them. But I've been finding it increasingly difficult. At first I thought it's just because I do it so often, it's getting old. Or I'm running out of ideas. But today was a weird day. I cleaned out my closet and my grandparents mailed us some old home videos so I watched them and when I walked my dog I didn't see anyone on the street and the atmosphere felt like there was some perfect combination of the trees and the color of the sky and the time of day that it felt like it only happened once a year and somehow it looked like it had just rained and I didn't see anybody and no cars went by and the one thing that's been on my mind for months kind of went away so when I came home I wrote the first good poem I've written in a while. It's this one stupid little thing that I can't stop thinking about and it's the only thing I can write about and it sucks but I keep saying I have to write about what's on my mind because it's the only thing I'll be able to write about well. Now I'm thinking I just have to put my mind somewhere else. And I'm thinking of what I'll have to do in order to do that. I should be able to write no matter what time of day it is and no matter how the trees look against the sky. I just need more control over my thoughts. Or less. They mean pretty much the same thing to me. I need a change of atmosphere or a new notebook or to remove a person from my life or add another. I feel like my days used to always be like today. But I can't remember them all that well. I usually remember things as better than they actually were.

Being the World

Things are a little shaky for me right now. I'm home sick, and I want to talk about poetry. Or art in general, and what it does. Patrick McGoohan used the Prisoner to comment on the world. I guess I use poetry as more of a way to solidify the world. There are things I can't fix and things I can't understand. What I try to do when I write is to express what I'm writing about exactly as it is. My best poems, I think, are the ones where I make things more of what they are than they are, if that makes sense. There are things I can't understand, but it's enough for me to be able to.. see them? To have them on paper? It's hard to explain. I guess that if I can't fix something, at least I can control it, to some extent.