With this quarter at school. Yay! Although I must say, I don’t feel the same sense of exhilaration that I used to feel in undergrad days of yore. I attribute this to not being as stressed out . . . and so the sense of relief at being finished isn’t as great. So instead of bouncing from one extreme to the other, I’m a bit more mellow all across the board. I used to think that stress pushed me to excel, and I think it did to some extent, but there are so many negative side-effects associated with stress (and eventually you get diminishing returns on stress–good lord, I’m still doing econ-speak from yesterday, yuck) that in the end it’s not worth it.
Even though I did my fair share of complaining this quarter, if I step back and look at it, it really wasn’t all that bad, considering. And now . . . I will tackle all of the things I’ve been putting off for the past three months. The bottom of my floor must be around here somewhere . . .
Last night, I went to a poetry slam with my friend, K.A. They had an open mic for the first 30 minutes or so. It was kind of hit or miss, but I must give all of those folks kudos for having the guts to stand up in front of a crowd and perform some very personal pieces. Then, they had their featured poet, who did an extended set. He did some very well-written, sensual pieces about love. I feel terrible saying this, but it was a bit odd hearing him perform these pieces while looking at him (he resembled a very disheveled, slightly scaled-down version of John Candy with longer hair). But he was definitely the best poet of the night. Later, they had the finals of a competition to see who would represent Seattle at the Individual World Poetry Slam Championship. I saw a woman perform that I’d seen two years ago at the Rainbow Bookfest . . . and she performed the same piece. Granted, I love the piece (it’s about how men shouldn’t mess with women they know they can’t handle . . . something about “don’t taste this sugar you know you can’t swallow” ahem), but I was hoping to hear something new from her.
I’ve never written poetry for myself or anyone else . . . I’m definitely more of a prose person. But I’ve been thinking lately about dabbling in it. Hmm, I’ve always been drawn to the arts. I think I have a natural affinity for them, but I don’t necessarily think I have an artist’s temperment, if that makes any sense. In some ways, I feel as though I’m Salieri–capable of recognizing genius, but incapable of producing it myself. I guess I feel as though we all have artistic sides to ourselves–it’s just that some people are meant to share their art with the world. What do I want to share with the world? It’s like what we ask ourselves when we try to figure out what our “career” will be . . . I think I have a better idea about what I want my mission in life to be, although it’s a work in progress. For now, I’m pretty happy with the steps that I’m taking towards fulfilling my contribution to the world, so I guess that’s enough.
Thoughts? Anyone else out there write their own poetry (for private or public view)? I know some of you do . . .