Auto-Bio | Your Homework

One of the most difficult feats I have yet to really master as a writer is the bio. For most journals, both online and in-print, it's typical to be asked for a "brief bio." Shit, even if you aren't a writer, how many social media sites these days are speckled with an array of text boxes that require some condensed verbiage of yourself. Likes and dislikes. Authors. Movies. Books. Music. Television show. Ice cream flavor. C'mon. Technology has not only allowed us to connect with the world, but in a way, define ourselves for the world. In words. Scary!

And so when people scoff at writing, in particular, English Composition, I have to wonder what in the hell world they live in. The Internet, smartphones included, has made life more interesting, certainly, and to the surprise of many: language both more important and somehow... it's gotten worse, skill-wise?

I'm sure it began with the short snippets of text messages. U no txts r quick n make room 4 errors & short sloppy spellings 2. But when did we become so lax as to allow for this? I mean, I'm not sure I could even consider dating someone with a horrible vocabulary, much less a lazy language of text-speak and misspellings. LMAO! (;

I'm off topic.

What I wanted to speak to is the laborious task of summing up oneself. When was the last time you had to do this? Have you ever? What did you say?

For writing submissions, it's easier. Really, any specialized venue in this way, at least, gives you some focus. But, for example, what does one do with the small info box at the top of his or her Pinterest page? Twitter? Facebook? I usually go about it randomly. Whatever pops into my head—which usually ends up being completely inane, you know?

My homework for you, those who dare attempt: write a general bio for yourself. Three to four sentences. Pretend your audience needs to really KNOW you. Not only is this a study in using language in a concise way, but really picking yourself apart to extract what you think it most important about you.

I want to know you! Go!

mt

POEM-A-DAY | letting go

Lunch break poem for today's prompt: a "gathering" AND a "letting go" poem. Here's a little guy...

LETTING GO
Liftoff; loose change drops
in copper [remains]; last squeeze to
splatter gritty brown mustard from
its plastic container; shrug of each
November elm on its hilltop steed
[dismount]; lollipop crunch
between raspberry-blue teeth [relief];
deliberate as the delete key without
rerun or epiphany; your dull ghosts in
a razor-rip of my bones in this
bed; [pillowcased] your quiet promises
asleep with iron eyelids; a sneeze;
not soft enough.

streaky-sky drive into work this AM. [Instagram]

Lions, Warriors & Poetry—OH MY!

I received this in my inbox today (via Poets.org) and promptly made me pee my pants.

Iscariot Rising Sutra
by Ben Kopel

Someone went away / but once they were here / so I don't die / instead I see a movie / the one about a boy / falling into / the green screen / sky lit up / phosphorescent / spiders and chandeliers / like that one time / near an island / out on the lash / I fell out of you / you laughed / your eyes closed / spread wide / standing open / I asked you / who are you / pretending I am / I did / you said / I'm pretending you / are you / drawing a jacked up heart / across my hand / in every airport / rocking this depression electric / I dry swallow / a video pill / we smoke glitter / until my suit sounds good / I long to be alive / when the world ends / so in love / with someone / I end up / ending everyone


Did you know that you can sign up to get a poem a day in your e-mail? Well. Let me tell you—somedays it hits me just right. Shiiiiittttt.

Still toiling with the Poem-A-Day November Challenge via Writer's Digest, headed up by Mr. Robert Lee Brewer and his blog. I'll finally share one with ye peeps. Makes me nervous—sharing in such an open forum—but mostly it makes me laugh. Can one get more dramatic than an Instagram-ed photo of a poem? I believe Shakespeare would find this hilarious, himself.

Thanks to Instagram for this one.

Look at him get that guy! (mbostrom2/wordpress)

I think it's great, also, that I can find a way to turn a "veteran poem" into something celestial. Always. And Orion seems to make many appearances in my work. In my pics I found online, he's killing a lion. Coincidence? It just so happens I'm a Leo. RAWR!

Are you into mythology? Personally, I never got into it as a young one; in fact, I believe it was my 12th-grade English teach who had to jam mythology down my throat. Well, then, I just coughed it back up. Ick. She was waaayyyy into it, too. Sorry, Ms. Schank. I didn't understand before. Now, as it relates to the sky, I love it. I love making a connection between myth/sky/underlying meaning. Hm. Big metaphor, yo. It's a beautiful thing.


On that note, time to go finish up a few things and lunch. In my car. Grading papers, I'm sure. Yay!

Happy Thursday, y'all!
mt

Drive-Home Text to D from 11.12.12

TEXT: Some days I wonder what would happen if I just powered down. Off. Good grief. I have so much to do. So much at stake. It scares the shit out of me. And every day I wake up feeling 900 lbs. and I'm just skating by. Like jussst making it. God, one misstep and this tightrope walker is going down. Everyone marvels at my accomplishments. But. With a price. Trust me. I have dreams. Big dreams. And I think it'll be the death of me.

Maybe that's what a quasar is. Maybe that's how they wake up in the morning too. Trying to live up to their own brightness. But I'm not a quasar, miss. I'm just a girl with too many things and not enough time. Just want to sleep for like 10 years. That's a lot of logs!

LIGHTS OUT ON GBG | "weirdo, FTW"

It's not every day, or any day actually, that this girl goes to the bar. Um... The "Errybody-Let's-Get-Fucked-Up" gene must've skipped this pool. Trust me. I've got enough bad habits. I enjoy being social and gabbing and laughing and getting rowdy; it's just... I prefer it over a latte. Besides a drunk chicken gets herself into a lot of unsavory situations: reckless flirting, a false sense of invincibility, vomiting and [often by the end of the night] end-of-the-world weeping. And for the love of Titan, keep me away from my phone.

All this said, I decided it was time to shelf my need for productivity and join some friends at a bar downtown. My new pad allows me the ability to walk and so I thought I'd stroll down. A lot farther than I figured, but I'm happy for that little feature on my iPhone's map app that allows one to route by foot.

So as I'm making the turn off of Main Street and toward Harry's, an ambulance whizzes by and I make my decent into... complete and utter darkness? No street lamps. No neon bar signs. Even the stoplight is blacked out, hanging from its rope like three dark eyes glaring an omen. I stopped in the sidewalk and waited. Listened. From the unlit guts of another local bar came an outpouring of stumbling 30- somethings.

I hesitated in midst of all this, of course, but ambled down the hill towards Harry's anyway. What the hell. It was definitely more exciting than what I'd been doing previously. When I got there, a few loud drunkards were rolling out the door, beer-in-hand, apparently just as excited. But guess what?! There was light inside the joint!

It was my first time at Harry's and I must say, probably one of the most memorable bar experiences. Maybe it was because I decided NOT to drink after all [sooooo lame, I know.] But I really believe it was the setting: the bar lined with tiny candles, the shadows of people laughing an harassing one another, the group of new and old friends that I hadn't seen for quite a while, and even my own thing I had going on—doodling by a wee flame, taking it all in.

The owner, in his attempt to razz just about every warm body at the bar, came over a few times to shine his flashlight on my doodle, snatch it from me and then proceed to show it off to everyone at the bar. But, at some point, this sweet, somewhat gruff gesture was followed by a "Damn, weirdo drawing pictures at the bar," at which I cringed and got a little blue for a moment. But then smiled because I knew he was just being a jackass, but also because I was having fun and I didn't give a shit, you know?

I'll be the first to admit that I'm strange, and sometimes it makes me feel 900x more alone. But most times it's ok. And I realize the best strange is being strange with strangers. Ha. Make sense? Maybe it doesn't. But I had a good night, even if the power never came back on. Probably because of it.

mt

To the moon. One shot.

The poem-a-day gig is leaving its indent on my days. In fact, I spend much of my time determining a suitable time slot for versing it up. Sunday: between grabbing dinner and visiting with a friend [Walking Dead time]—I pulled into a Baptist church lot to pull a poem from me. Felt odd. Sadly it didn't end there. I spent another hour later trying to hone it in, just touching noses with the midnight "deadline."

Alas, a poem is born. I'll share one soon. The prompts have been pretty accessible. I'm sure something, at least, will come of it. (:

I thought, in spirit of my doodle madness, I'd share some squiggles with you all. And namely, there is this master toy-maker (aka A-Fred) to whom I've been promising a post!

Not much on this gadget, but...

<3
mt

A little melodramatic of a muse...

So I guess the bottom line is this. Being single has it's perks, right? Freedoms and sense of individuality, which honestly I kept through most of my relationships. [Best of both worlds, I guess.]

But I've tired very quickly of the generalizations/imposed beliefs of others on the matter:

1. "Yay! No, this is awesome. You're free to explore and be free and meet people and you need to look at this as a great thing! Go have fun and party it up!"

2. "So... you are the type of girl who constantly needs to be in a relationship?"

Neither of these are very true for me. It is complex, but simple. And maybe it's because the cold is closing in on us, the holidays and all... but it's on nights like this that I'm driving home from a long day—both working at the office and teaching—to absolutely nothing and no one, that I think: "Why?" What am I necessarily doing all of it for? I mean, I was never the type to buy the notion that we "exist because we exist": a means as well as an end.

I struggle, both with the logistics of life (as we all do, at times) and my own brain (which is a much more personal kind of conflict) on a daily basis. And at times, it's exhausting and I almost need a reason to push.

Now don't get your panties in a bunch. I realize this seems a little melodramatic, and maybe for some, it is; however, this is very real to me, as this was an issue long before now (family and such.) I guess it's just that at 27, while young, I still feel as if I should have found my reason by now.

And this was quite the spillage of guts, but the point? For you people. Please don't ever feel unnecessary. And also, do not take for granted all the things that you have and that hold you up. Maybe you don't think you "need it"—maybe you don't. Either way, I know that alone can be exhilarating for many reasons, but someday you might need a person, maybe even one you never thought you would. So appreciate now.

It's so easy to realize that we all occupy our own sort of hell, at times. But it's just as easy to skip over, too. Human compassion, empathy, even opening oneself to embrace that type of vulnerability—this is living, man. And there is no simple lesson in this. But a complex one: Love. Love hard. Love with all of your guts.

I'm not trying to be pessimistic here, but unconditional love isn't something you find often. Trust me on this one. Some peeps may be hard to love, give you more problems than might seem worth it—but don't just give up.

Don't give up on people, I guess. Bottom line. There. (:

Night musings. Don't mind me.
Feeling a bit bummed. Damn season!
A snap may help it...

mt