Wednesday, February 8, 2012
I love when poetry workshops feel like a therapy sessions. On my poem someone wrote "I just don't understand what the speaker loved about him when he was obviously such an asshole". The number of times the word "bitter", "spite", and "sarcastic" came up. And this "People act as if they know all about us after knowing us for 2, 3, 12 months or what have you and act as if they are bored. But in reality we are bottomless wells. In each one of us is a mystery to be forever absorbed and yet we treat each other like dirt." I think that is sort of beautiful. What I love about poems is the way it allows for people to share very acute feelings.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
I had a long dream about Kenya, about leaving Kenya, about being heartbroken about leaving Kenya. Except, when I left Kenya, I almost didn't cry. I remember looking out the window at Nairobi, and a few tears sneaking out of the corners of my eyes, but that was about it. The leaving feels harder now. I wish I had cried. I wish I had paid better attention, wish I had been a little less excited to come home. I was excited to come home for all the wrong reasons. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, not really on purpose but just sort of it seeps into my brain when I am doing other things. I am remembering how I felt there and how I feel now and what that means. My heart feels a little raw today which is much better than the alternative of it feeling numb. Just yesterday, birds started chirping out my window, and it makes it seem like spring. The end of college is coming near and I think that makes the end of a lot of other things, some of which are a relief and a lot of which are sad. I like to tell myself nothing is permanent, because it is a comfort, but in this case, not quite. In the same way I know I can never go back to Kenya and have it be the same as it was last time, can not relive my MSID experience, I know that when we get all spread out across the globe we will never be able to be back here, to be like this, and that makes me ache. I haven't put much thought into what being separated from these people means, and I won't, because it's too hard, but I hope we manage to stick together.