Saturday, January 23, 2010


It seems a bit trite to do this, but I've decided to do it regardless. I'd love to know how you'd answer these questions.

One word only, please.

Where is your phone? desk

Your hair? short

Your Mother? sensitive

Your Father? stagnant

Your favourite food? fruit

Your dream last night? unremembered

Your favourite drink? tea

Your dream/goal? zen

What room are you in? sitting

Your hobby? reading

Your fear? dormancy

Where do you want to be in six years? peace

Where were you last night? bowling

Something that you're not? tidy

Muffins? butter

Wish list item? doctorate

Where did you grow up? village

Last thing you did? sit

What are you wearing? barefoot

Your TV? hidden

Your pets? nonexistent

Friends? lovely

Your life? busy

Your mood? scattered

Missing someone? yes

Vehicle? goes

Something you're not wearing? jewelry

Your favourite store? Good Will

Your favourite colour? yellow

When was the last time you laughed? reading

The last time you cried? yesterday

Your best friend? loyal

One place that I go to over and over? dictionary

Facebook? eh

Favourite place to eat? grandma's


Does a word ever seem to just hit you over the head? You know, one words just keeps rearing its head over and over for a few days or weeks, and it becomes something that you somehow work into normal conversation, something you say too many times in one day.

My word is "arbitrary" today or yesterday or whatever. It's a good word. I've had better ones stick to my tongue in the past, but right now that's it. I've decided to somehow try to work these sticky words into my creative writing efforts. For whatever reason poetry seems to be at the surface of most of these efforts, granted it isn't the greatest poetry ever, but it is there. I have a couple of short stories I am trying to work on, but things aren't coming along in that area.

Maybe they're too personal or too fresh, too opinionated maybe. Maybe I should try to actually write fiction that isn't based on personal experience, but that's never been something easy for me to do, and I don't know why I'd think it'd suddenly become easy for me to do so. I get too hung up on petty things like the heroine's name or which verb best describes her mocking/snarling/pious/coveted features. When it is real, then the words seem to come more easily. And I have tricks for beginning poetry that just don't work for short stories.

I was honestly hoping that this creative writing class would help me with those efforts, yet it is quite the disappointment. There is no direction, only a quota.

I'd call that a tangent, and it happens to be arbitrary, which brings us full circle.

Arbitrary. That is something that I don't want to be.
It feels like I've done some things recently in a very pointed and driven way, and then I've done other things with no clear motive at all. What I've found is that following my intuition works best, and when I forget myself and let that energy or intuition slip into the back of my mind, those are the moments when I become careless, when I turn a page too quickly or forget to bookmark an especially useful website.
Point being - I'm trying to pay attention to my feelings, to my intuition, and while it is one of the most enlightening and wonderful things I've ever done, it is quite a challenge and one to which I wish I could devote all of my time. Of course, I wonder who can devote all of their time to any one thing.

It's a new path, and I feel that it leads in the correct direction, whether or not that is an arbitrary feeling has yet to be decided, but I'm fairly certain that things are becoming less and less arbitrary.

Thursday, January 21, 2010


I gave five dollars to some random man outside of a gas station tonight. I can't think of a better way to begin this story. I don't which of us was doing more "profiling." What I do know is that it has been a long time since something of this sort has happened to me, and apparently it was time for something to occur.

I pulled up to a gas station in the middle of Jonesboro. Busy street, lots of people around - safe. As I pull into a parking spot a man walks around the corner (the sort of dark corner) of this gas station. I get out of my car, phone in hand and lock the car. As I begin to walk to the door of the station, which I have stopped at to retrieve a snack consisting of Ruffle's Sour Cream and Cheddar chips (my weakness), he begins to talk to me. And the first thing out of this man's mouth is and I kid you not: Hey there young lady.. I ain't no killer or nothing, but you see.. blah, blah. We're out of gas and we need to get to Paragould. Do you have any money? We just need ten dollars...

I say that I have very little. Yet, this guy is persistent. He says that there is an ATM and he'll pay me back if I'll give him my address or phone number. I just handed him a five dollar bill and kept moving.

I noticed that he only seemed to be soliciting to white women, and he was not white. I don't know what he used that five dollars to buy, but I do know that I am happy to be safely behind the locked doors of my mother's house. I did check to make sure I wasn't being followed. Suffice it to say that I probably will just go to a different station the next time I am craving those chips.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010


bronchitis/pneumonia (walking) + grad school + 2 hour drives + "Mama" = FUCK!

Please hurry, and bring Sleep.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Now and Here

He was something else back then,
Unlike the man of now and here.
He'll never be back again.

The way things have recently been
Fills my heart with fear.
He was something else back then.

He was one of the great men,
But along the way he began to veer.
He'll never be back again.

No longer able to recall when
This other man began to leer,
He was something else back then.

All that's left to hold is this pen,
At this point we're
Realizing he'll never be back again.

This is the beginning of the end,
And it's nothing to do with mere sin.
He was something else back then.
He'll never be back again.

-Lauren Adams