Having recently ventured into the mystical land known as “the real world,” several ideas and curiosities have come to my attention. I am naïve in this world, distant from my previous home full of obnoxious party goers and dedicated academics. In this world, there are responsibilities and questions of the future. Two subjects keep arising that have grabbed my attention, that of marriage and that of having children. However, the questions are not whether or not to partake in these institutions and obligations. The questions are of when to marry, who to marry, how many kids to have, and what to name them. I started thinking, why would I get married and why would I have kids? Did I consciously decide to marry and have kids or did I simply follow social norms and biological urges? I want questions like that to be answered long before I undertake such dedicated steps in my life. Sure, the challenges are distant still, but why would it ever be too early to question these immense life steps?
I wrote a post once called Story of Nothing and after reading it again feel the need to clarify an element of that poem I wrote. I am not into poetry, just like I said before, primarily because I want people, including myself, to actually understand what I am writing about.
I felt that the poem was a little confusing for one main reason, the title. The title “Story of Nothing” may produce thoughts of a nonexistence to people but it means the exact opposite. But I gave it a title that would help me remember why I was about to say “I love it…” fifty times.
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.