It sucks to sit here. 3 weeks having been home from the vacation of my dreams and I haven’t written a single word about it. In order to get SOMETHING out, I’ve decided to do this. I don’t understand how something so full of events worth writing about, I have nothing…empty. Maybe it was because I didn’t have a pen and pad anywhere around. I’m the one who has to jot it down quick when the inspiration hits, or it’s gone. Maybe it was because I had so much to take in, there was no room for poetic thought? I didn’t take a book either. I wanted to pay attention to the people I was with and my surroundings at all times. My plan was to come home, with all these sights, smells and sounds to pour on paper. When I try to write, sit myself down and think, “Quin, write about walking on the beach”, it never happens. Maybe something starts in my head, but never gets further than that. Or I’ll get a few lines, but it doesn’t sound like anything I’d write when I read it to myself. Bizarre, I know, but I love being able to go from thought, to poem in minutes. I very rarely edit. Edits are afterthoughts; I like them pure as they came in my head.
I really started getting bummed right before the Mustang Cobra came into my rearview mirror Friday on my way to work. That one I had to hold onto till I got to work, which was only 5 more minutes away! I was so psyched just to get the inspiration. Sometimes I go months without writing. I can’t do challenges in poetry. Contests with topics, I may as well forget it. This poetry is completely my life, minus a few fictional pieces. My raw, sharp emotions and feelings whether organized or not. These things I experience in my life and with most, when I read them a year or so later, make me smile. Even the confusing rants, my pleads for sex or words, it is all still worth it. I guess I’m not really even into the contests, the publishing, any sort of thing other than..1.feeling good about what I’ve written as it pertains to my life. 2. That some people that read my work will let me know they “know the feeling”, or maybe even have words of advice, or just saying they loved a certain piece. 3. I also am really happy with the fact that a few far away cousins have come to know me through their access to my library online. One has joined me here.
So the Myrtle Beach Bike Week 2003 vacation may never be put in poetry. It may never be written about in story form either. I’ve learned not to crowd my head with too many feelings, events, and other stimulants. I feel better now that I’ve written this.

Quin

06/05/2003

Posted on 06/05/2003
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