about poetry-related things, don't hate me

1) WHY DID I NOT THINK OF THIS FIRST?? - haikus are totally my thing.  once I facebook-wall-bombed all my friends with haikus (better known as the FFH...Facebook Friend Haiku. maybe you've heard of it).  They were just silly expressions of love in 5-7-5 form and maybe I'll do them again sometime because they were weird and probably annoyed everyone.  Also, for a project in a summer class last year I created a series of haikus that were rearrangements of phrases from Emily Dickinson poems.  But THIS is genius.  Someone put parts of the bible in Haiku form. And for some dumb reason it wasn't me. props, dude. major props.

2) WHY DOES THIS POEM MAKE ME FEEL LIKE WATCHING ROM-COMS?? - Once my dear friend Caroline and I were writing and drinking coffee in Crozet and it was National Poem in Your Pocket Day (coffee, friends, poetry, Crozet...I think my mind was probably exploding with awesomeness) and so when we got our coffee we were also given little poems to slip in our pockets and keep! Mine was Dancing Toward Bethlehem by Billy Collins and when I read it I exploded into girly swoon-tastic squeals because it is just. so. darn. romantic.  Dare you to read that and tell me you don't want to snuggle up and watch Titanic and eat chocolates.  Dare you.

3) WHY IS D.C. SO AWESOME?? - Dear D.C., thank you for doing things like creating poetry exhibits such as this one at the National Portrait Gallery so I can go and join herds of fellow poetry dorks and stand in front of photos of Walt Whitman and get teary-eyed in public because he was the first poet I ever studied or ever loved and on the wall next to him is a poem that's just so beautiful and oh gosh people can see me WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME, it's ok, everyone else here loves this stuff too OH LET'S ALL HUG AND RECITE OUR FAVORITE VERSES! (exhibit up until April of next year.  you can go and it doesn't have to be quite so dramatic).

about thankfulness

I am thankful for Thanksgiving. 

For bananagram matches. 

For bonfires that keep you warm & the friends who sit around them. 

For coffee from diner mugs. 

For pie. 

For surprise party hopes. 

For strange Sufjan beautifulness. 

For ornaments that scream WAHOOWA. 

For dogs who play dress-up. 

For family. For people I love.  

that is more than three things...but I'm just that thankful.  

ps. props to birthday gal Zoella for that bonfire pic :) 

about metro etiquette

1) when boys are nice, it's nice -- a few days ago, a young gentleman on my train let the older woman who got on have his seat.  These sort of small actions make me believe that chivalry is not dead.  They give me a little glimmer of hope when most days there are only teenage boys who wear their pants too low and try to do flips or something on the pole in the metro car and listen to music too loudly through head phones that are around their necks (which is not your head, nor where your ears are) and sprawl out over like three seats when meanwhile there are little old grandma's (or twenty-something ladies who have difficulty balancing in heels...) forced to cling for dear life as the train jerks back and forth like a mechanical bull at a Texas rodeo.  not nice, boys. not nice.

2) when you have a cold, it's bad -- As the season gets colder my nose is getting progressively stuffier.  Meaning I'm becoming something gross and deplorable: a mouth breather. A few days ago, as a crowded metro car  left us packed on top of each other like sardines, I found myself (without anything I could do to change the situation, except hold my breath or suffocate maybe) breathing down the back of some stranger's neck.  Seriously. Like I was one of those gross pug dogs only their owners think are cute that you always see gasping for air.  Like I was reenacting a scene straight out of a horror movie.  Like Brainy breathing behind Helga then getting punched in the face-style.  You get the picture.

3) when there are seeing-eye dogs, it's difficult -- Many times when I've gotten on a train to leave work there has been the same kind blind man and his seeing-eye dog.  And it's hard, because when I see a dog, I want to pet it. It's an automatic, bodily reaction. I want to snuggle with it and go "dawww wooook at you, you're a dog! you're such a wittle cutie! (random dog noises)".  But I think that this is not appropriate with seeing-eye dogs. Or so I'm told.  So then this inner-dialogue goes off like "OH a dog! look at HIM! he is soo cute! I'm gonna pet him. Oh wait, I can't. He's a seeing-eye dog and he's working and you can't pet seeing-eye dogs when they are working...but his owner will never see me do it! No wait, that's horrible, Emily. you're actually a bad person....."  and so it's always a morally difficult dilemma. 

about being 22

1) you're an adult but you're not an adult: I shop for my own groceries.  But I still call my mom to ask how long leftover pasta keeps for.  I pay for my car insurance.  But I still get my dad to add more oil to my car.  I go to bed before 11 so that I can get up rested for work.  But I'm considering buying tickets to the Twilight midnight premiere next week.  I like the idea of being a sophisticated grown-up.  But I still refer to older people as "grown-ups".

2) you know what you want to do but you don't know what you want to do: When I graduated from college I was all, "OMG I'm going to study poetry and be an amazing professor and have tons of literary friends and this is my PASSION and I'm going to CHANGE THE FREAKING WORLD, Y'ALL! let's start writing my first collection I LOVE THE REAL WORLD!!!!!!" but then after about 12 minutes of that I was all "WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFEEEEEEE should I be a teacher? should I really go back to school right away? Am I bad at poetry? Am I good at it? What does it mean to be bad or good at poetry? Ok, I'm going to intern. Ok , should I go to school for something different?  Maybe I should work for a nonprofit.  Maybe I should write a book.  Maybe I should go teach English in Korea (kidding, mom).  THE REAL WORLD SUCKS. HELP!" and cry in the middle of the day, think I'm always going to be a purposeless, floating 22-year-old, panic, etc. etc., repeat.

3) you're wise but you're stupid too: I managed to make my way through college at a good university.  I have travelled by myself in new places and not gotten lost.  I can live on my own for long periods of time without the police showing up in response to a prank 911 call (been there, done that) or burning the house down (my list of things to NOT put in the microwave has grown extensively from experience).  But let's be real - I'm still an idiot, you guys.  There is always that tension when you are a 22-year-old to alternate between thinking you've really accomplished a lot in life and lived through things and then feeling like you know nothing about the world.  I have no idea how people do the real-world things I could experience in the next phase of life such as: build a career, have a family, find a purpose in life, pay taxes, etc.  Good thing I'm not alone in this, right T.Swift??

about a poem: The Day After the Election, Washington, D.C.

1) This is a poem I wrote about the season ending and how the timing of seasons sometimes works into what we are learning to be true about our own nature.  God is pretty cool with how he can reflect what's true about our interior worlds in what is true about our exterior ones.

2) I started this while taking a walk on my lunch break.  Wendell Berry talked about writing poems on his walks and because this is something I love doing too it makes me feel a special kindred connection to him. And that sort of makes me happy.

3) Instead of typing out the text I thought I'd record it so you can listen.  Poetry isn't read out loud enough anymore in my opinion. And sometimes I dream about sitting in a little cozy room with my friends and we're all holding hot beverages and we go around reading our favorite words out to one another and they fill up the space and hang there lovingly. Thank you in advance for indulging me in that little fantasy.
(oh, click right here to listen)