I was on a bit of a hiatus for a few weeks. The main reason is I began hating the internet and felt angst about my words existing. Dramatic, I know. The other reason is I wanted no distractions for my last few weeks of first semester because it was putting my body through a work wood-chipper, and call me a masochist because I just flipping love it. Now I am home for the festive season, and when I say home I really mean the nest because the place I own and pay rent at and live in is home. This is where my parents live, and I once lived.
Ah, Miranda, shut-up with your meaningless meanings.
Home! Yes, I am home. It's nice because it's a fucking wintery tundra as always. There is no snow south of Toronto, and so it's like being in real Canada and fake Canada.
One of the reasons I am returning to the blogosphere is because I realized what a fantastic and organized outlet writing in this blog is. Regardless of where I am or what I'm doing it seems like I am forever doomed to having random poetic thoughts which as one dear once told me become the 'rocks' of my poems. So I tend to have these rushings of feeling and thought all at once and must write these things down. When I was far more energetic and devoted to this blog I would use it exclusively and generally write my pieces all at once in a violent yet quiet rush of typing and reciting. I recently watched a TED Talk with a writer I admire and she was talking about how inspiration is an external being that just randomly comes in and helps you. The ancient Greeks called this a Genius and I cannot think of a better explanation for how inspiration comes for me. With words, it's as if a poem will come quickly and in it's entirety. My Genius is quite proliferate. So without this organized and lovely way for me to connect with my Genius, she becomes a bastard and will never let me see those words again. I have, in my room, probably hundreds of important documents that have been ruined with messy ink script. Sometimes one sentence. Sometimes thirteen. Sometimes I'll immediately turn it into a song. Sometimes I'll come back to it and beneath the CRA emblem is a scribbled poem that really sucks and I'll never use. Ever.
So, I am returning to perhaps continue this wonderful relationship of quick typing skills and rapid poetry collecting. Please be kind to me internet or you may scare me off like a small critter once more.
In other news, I have been obsessed with Canadian folk music, specifically this band headed by Tamara Lindeman called The Weather Station. A great website for musicians in Southern Ontario is 'Southern Souls'. There is a link below.
The Weather Station on Southern Souls
Also, for a great and free Holiday album by Canadian Artists including Baby Eagle, The Weather Station and Great Lake Swimmers, among many others, Click Here! Relish in the Christmas, Indie, and Canadian deliciousness.
All my light, and all of my love.
Have a Happy Holidays.
Miranda
No comments:
Post a Comment