Rainer Maria Rilke helped me, probably more than anything else, to understand that my adolescent confusion with the world and lust for wisdom was not uncommon. When I felt desperately alone amidst the misplaced confidence of college freshman, my mom gave me a card with that quote on the front. It made me feel, knowing that the hesitation and desperation for answers that I felt was ancient, that people had been likely asking these questions forever, that I was not alone. I felt a timeless connection to the writer and the young man he was addressing. Continue reading Timeless questions: Rainer Maria Rilke
I have only acknowledged the existence of my blog in writing once. I did not write a cliche first blog announcing to the world what my intentions are. Instead, I wrote about what happened that day. And from then on, I continued to write about exactly what inspired me to transform my feelings into words. But tonight I will share feelings I had in the past.
I’m not big on making my future-self guess what I was thinking when I reread an entry. I like to mimic exactly what I feel or think with words rather than writing some vague combination of words to be interpreted however a reader may like. Of course I try to leave in some sort of imagination, but I want to be able to look back and know exactly how I felt when I wrote it. With that said, here is a poem I wrote. I hate poetry, but I like this poem. I know exactly what I felt when I wrote it but it is up to interpretation.
Story of Nothing
I love it because it’s soft and hugs me back.
I love it because it’s a seven layer dip.
I love it because it makes me laugh through hell.
I love it because it stands it ground when attacked, and runs free when unthreatened.
I love it because when you pull it, it snaps, and when you hit it, it bangs.
I love it because the sun setting makes my spirit rise.
I love it because it showed me how to love.
I love it because it is not that new car.
I love it for those who do not know how to love.
I love it because it prays to a god it does not know exists.
I love it because it is reformed.
I love it because it is never the same two days in a row.
I love it because it is only occasionally sugar-coated.
I love it because there is no such thing as optimism, and no such thing as charity.
I love it because it swivels about my neck and hangs over my head.
I love it because it chooses chocolate and vanilla.
I love it because when I am in love, I would not trade it for anything.
I love it because even after it dies, it still smiles at me.
I love it because when it hurts so bad, I cry and cry.
I love it because it wiggles when I tickle it and kicks when I scratch it.
I love it because I know I can make your day.
I love it because it is salt and pepper.
I love it because it stays blank no matter how dirty it becomes,
because it stays dry no matter how wet, and
remains 5’2” no matter how much it grows.
And I love it because it will grow.
I love it because if you make fun of it, it laughs.
I love it because if you hold your fingers a certain way, it shoots web.
I love it because when it scratches my back lightly in the right spot, my spine tingles.
I love it because you can see it in the dark, and not in the light.
I love it because I hate everything else.
I love it because it loves me.