The Purpose of Should

An afterthought SHOULD HAVE
A driving force for unrelenting
guilt SHOULD HAVE
shame SHOULD HAVE
sorrow
SHOULD HAVE

SHOULD
Say it enough and it’s meaningless
Say it enough and it ceases to be

Notions for when it’s too late to change
When the results are in
And everyone you love is gone
When there’s nothing to be done

An off topic bitch fest brought to you by me.
Being told to give a survey to my students to find out how to make my class more fun is really just absolutely fucking ridiculous. Never mind that 12 year-old kids have no idea what they should do. They only know what they want. They want to be on their phones and they want to play mindless video games and get constant positive feedback for no effort.
Sure, give them a survey. Make it more fun. The only focus for teacher’s for the several years has been us to make everything more fun. Easier. Bullet points and no reading. And certainly no homework. They’re too busy for homework. Too busy.
Did you study? No, but I played Call of Duty for 10 hours.
You play Call of Duty? Your parents let you play Call of Duty?
Obviously, the problem lies with me. I’m not fun enough.

Now, I’m bored of complaining. It’s always the same. Poor performance and blame the teacher. Nothing to do with parenting. Nothing to do with screens. Nothing to do with kids being exposed to violence earlier and earlier in their lives. Nothing to do with any of that. Just me and my boring hands-on, lab filled, inquiry-based, interactive class.

For several weeks now I’ve been assisting other writers as a development editor for an anthology coming out next summer. I’m really enjoying the process. Each story is so different in style, genre, POV, voice, etc. Each writer eager to dig into whatever we come upon to improve their work. It’s a great experience and I’m learning a lot. ūüôā

A Story Where

A story where I write about you, but you’re covered in changes.
With enough rearranges,
That someone could believe,
At least, a bit more than me.

A story where I write about you, but as tiny rabbit.
Hit by a car, truck, or train.
And all I can see is the skewed
View from the street.
Heatwaves and blood.
Snapped neck,
Gristle and bone,
Dark halo.

Heart
Slowly
Slowly
Slowing.

A story where I write about you, but you’re not such a dick.
You climb from the contraption,
Just to see what happened.
Spot the small bunny with eyeballs loose,
Runny.

A story where I write about you, but you’re hidden in
Flickers of allegory.
Splashes of enlightenment.

You with your hands on your hips.
And a sick smile on your lips,
Lift my broken body
With the tip of your shoe.

A story where I write about you, but the fantasy is waning.
And the truth is regaining.
So, when I go flying, I’m not that surprised.

I twist in the air.
Search for the semi, fox, or plane,
That will finish me off,
Instead of your face.

A story where I write about you, but this time I get it.
I can write all I want,
Reconstruct.
Make excuses.
But truth will out
And
It’s time for me to accept
That you’re just a fucker.
And
I have no regret.

Musical Dreams

Oh how I long
for a romantic song
Not
about co-dependence and
lack of boundary keeping.

Make it mainstream
With thoughts for the teens
To ponder
Perseverate
And perhaps inspire change.

Communication and
owning what’s yours
Admitting a wrong
and forgiving.

A new world will begin
One we wish we lived in
But never realized it’s ours
for the making.

Attended my second writing conference ever. The place was overflowing with amazing authors, editors, publishers, experts, volunteers. I met so many amazing people. Not like, “oh, you’re amazing” blah blah cuz you’re here too, but “you’re real, genuine, kind, accepting, open, generous, interested, just overall amazing. I’m lucky to have met you.” See the difference?

I learned a lot, too. I can’t wait to go to the next conference. The LUW cares so much about its members and the writing community, each person affiliated with them spreads the same message of appreciation and concern. They’re wonderful.

Humans

How can we hate each other when we’re all trying to do the same thing?
We hate each other. We ignore. Neglect. Beat. Rape. Kill each other.
But we all want the same thing.
We refuse to help. Refuse to notice. To stop. To say something. To hold accountable.
But we all want the same thing.
To be free of fear. To end mistreatment. Is to end it in others. Then it will happen in yourself.
To have peace is to recognize your peace and share it. To be accepting. To be kind.
We want to eat and feel safe. Why would you you use violence and justifications to starve and threaten others when all they want is the same thing?
No one will go without. There’s enough.
But we take it. We hide it. We horde it. We dangle it over the heads of others to feel what?
Bigger? Better? Stronger?
It is a display of weakness. It is Pathetic. And misinformed.

Attended my first writing conference this weekend. I was surrounded by¬†hundreds of authors, all there to build connections and reinforce the scaffolding already in place for ¬†community. A community I’m now apart of and can turn to for support when I’m stuck. Thank you for being there, LUW. I appreciate you! #LUW2017

Why Write When All This Shit Is Happening?

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I haven’t been writing.¬†I’ve actively avoided it.

Because

Writing, focusing, fretting about little things in my life when all of this horrible shit is happening seems to me to be a waste

Of TIME

I tell myself, “write. write. write.”

Why?

“It keeps you sane.”

But it isn’t important when so much hate has been released from so many.

“The hate was always there.”

Was it? All of these people were faking all this time? They were kept under control and now that we have a leader that condones bad behavior, they’ve let loose their feelings? I don’t believe it. It can’t be true. People are better than that. I can’t write about personal struggles when there are people being¬†persecuted¬†because of their beliefs.

“That’s been happening since the dawn of time. Never stopped you before.”

It’s stopping me now.

“Is it?”

I feel paralyzed. Helpless. Terrified. What can I do?

“Don’t be distracted. Make the choices you’ve always made. Continue to send out love and connection and compassion. Be who you are. And write.”

It’s selfish.

“Is it?”