Mental Meanderings

Writing Blah Poetry

Still in yesterdays fuzz but today I'd promised myself I'd work on a poetry entry for another contest. I wanted to do something creatively and work it in so that I could use it in the book of poetry I'm currently putting together.

In the morning I took Josh to the library and as he played in their kids corner I sat and wrote. I worked over the lines and remembered how much I hate working in longhand. I have a page with scribbles, lines, scratch-outs, lines above and below where they belong, scrapped words, and brainstorming. It's a huge big mess.

Somewhere on that page was a poem. It's a base but it just doesn't feel right. When I write poetry that works I FEEL it. Not just feel the emotion involved in the writing of it but a part of me just smiles and goes, "Yeah, that's it!" This poem doesn't do that for me. I've spend time scattered through the day trying to 'fix' it but so far I'm wondering if I'm just wasting my time.

I've obviously not given up and even if I decide it's not going to work I'll save it and archive it as I do with all of my work. Who knows, someday I might stumble across it and know how to make it shine.

But before I decide that I'm going to keep working on it. There is something there, it's just a case of pulling it out of the jumble of words so I can see it more clearly. I know it would definately help if I was all here. I'm also very tired, I fell asleep once already today and a part of me wants to go back to bed. If I give in and do that I won't berate myself. Nothing good ever comes from forcing myself to work in this condition.

Still, I keep thinking of the time I'm wasting. I worked a little on The Dating Game today and I keep thinking I should work harder on it so that I can get it out to the publisher. I think a part of me is worried about earning more with my writing. I depend on the pension at the moment and anything I earn affects my payments. If I were paid an advance for a book it could scrap my regular payments. I wonder if maybe I should talk to an accountant or centrelink adviser to find out how that would work. But then it's like counting my chickens isn't it? It's all much to far and important thinking for the state my mind is in.

I'm starting to wonder if my mood is directly connected to the house. When I was out and about during the day I was feeling ok. Then when I got home it was like I became a deflated balloon. It's not that I don't like being here but I think maybe the disturbed energies of my sanctuary are unsettling me. I'll be very thankful when the renovations are done and I'll be able to restore the tranquility. I keep reminding myself, "Not long now."

Perhaps that's how I should look at everything at the moment. "Not long now."