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Sep. 7th, 2002 11:12 amMy apartment finally has both internet access and cable. Actually, only I have internet access for the moment; we need to get a router to make Shoshana's computer work. Mac-PC networking... that should be an interesting headache when the time comes for me to appear all computer-literate like. Anyway, don't get me wrong, I'm glad we have these things now, but... in an odd way it was sort of satisfying to come home and have literally nothing to do but homework. Now I have all these distractions again, the temptation of mindless TV and even more mindless computer games.
Ever since my return from NELP, I've lived a nearly poetryless existence, and it's beginning to bother me. It's like, I got back, and while I see NELPers all the time (there are literally 8 of them in my Shakespeare class), it's as if NELP never happened. I don't keep a journal anymore (well, LJ, sure, but it's exceedingly rare that I use LJ for the same purposes for which I used my NELP paper journal), I don't write poetry, I don't even really stop to reflect. I still wear this green string around my wrist, my part of the circle we all made on graduation night, and when people ask me what it's for I don't know what to say. Not just because they wouldn't understand but because I don't understand anymore.
I miss poetry. I miss the way my mind focused when I wrote, the freedom of mixing old words together in new ways. I miss going to Slams as more than just a spectator, miss being inspired by the poets I found there instead of just jealous. I remember those horrible two days at NELP when I couldn't write a word, how I worked through it because I had too and came out stronger for it in the end. I'm in much the same place now, unable to write anything meaningful, but without the motivation to push past it so all that's left is drivel and the ache of something lost.
Ever since my return from NELP, I've lived a nearly poetryless existence, and it's beginning to bother me. It's like, I got back, and while I see NELPers all the time (there are literally 8 of them in my Shakespeare class), it's as if NELP never happened. I don't keep a journal anymore (well, LJ, sure, but it's exceedingly rare that I use LJ for the same purposes for which I used my NELP paper journal), I don't write poetry, I don't even really stop to reflect. I still wear this green string around my wrist, my part of the circle we all made on graduation night, and when people ask me what it's for I don't know what to say. Not just because they wouldn't understand but because I don't understand anymore.
I miss poetry. I miss the way my mind focused when I wrote, the freedom of mixing old words together in new ways. I miss going to Slams as more than just a spectator, miss being inspired by the poets I found there instead of just jealous. I remember those horrible two days at NELP when I couldn't write a word, how I worked through it because I had too and came out stronger for it in the end. I'm in much the same place now, unable to write anything meaningful, but without the motivation to push past it so all that's left is drivel and the ache of something lost.
