Tag: Haiku

Once in a dream…

When I was younger I had a dream. It seems silly to me now, but as a child, it’s what I aspired to. I dreamed about what it would be like to stand in front of a crowd, chanting my name, holding lighters up wanting more.

I wanted to be a rock star!

I didn’t want to do it for the money or even the fame. If I wanted that, my choice would have been to be an actor – I just wanted to sing – to be on a stage.

That’s half the reason I chose to be in band – the other half, because I love music. Being in band (I played clarinet) gave me the opportunity to be on a stage multiple times a year. But it wasn’t enough, so in middle school I signed up for the talent show. First year I sang a Britney Spears song, yes, seriously, I was in middle school in the early 2000’s. The second time I sang an ‘Nsync song. (It may be the other way around – I’ve slept a lot since then.)

I may have lost both years but it was by far the best moments of my life. (That’s sad, right?) I probably would have kept entering it but thanks to a group of guys and their screamo, they stopped holding it. They eventually started again, but it was after I dropped out. (That’s for another day.)

As I have gotten older the feeling has calmed however the feeling still appears. My job has an event center which of course has a large stage. Sometimes we’ll have classes and I’ll space out staring at the stage – daydreaming.

The feeling has exploded but not exactly for the stage. I may still get that fuzzy feeling for the stage, but now I get that feeling for the printed word.

I was told once, “If you’re meant to do something you’ll always be thinking about it. When you go to sleep, wake up, and in between.” When I was younger it was singing, performing; anything dealing with the stage – that I thought about all the time. As I’ve aged my thoughts have changed and it’s always thinking about writing.

When I’m not writing, I’m thinking about it. That’s, I think, why I get so frustrated when I get “writers block”. It’s also why I get so angry at myself when I think about ‘Frost’.

I know I question whether I’m supposed to be a writer or not a lot, but it’s not because I don’t want to, but rather – shouldn’t it be easier? Is it normal for someone to take over six years to write a book? I mean, technically, I ‘finished’ it back in 2015. Since then I Have been attempting to edit it – all I seem to do is change things. I basically rewrite it, become aggravated, stop writing for months just to pick it back up – starting over at chapter one, to begin rewriting it again. I swear I have rewrote ‘Frost’ at least thirty times.

I’m never happy with it. I even know that I’ll always be my biggest critic – so why do I do this to myself?

I have this plan! My plan! A great plan! Since I am my biggest critic, and I will probably never like my writing, I decided that after it’s finished – COMPLETELY – I would offer three people the chance to read it and tell me what they think. People I know won’t sugar coat it, or lie because they don’t want to hurt my feelings. I know it’ll be rough, most first books are – I am not going to be the next Jane Austen (I find her work hard to read). I just want to find my voice, my way – be the best Barbara Hightower I can. That’s all I can achieve. I can’t try to be another writer – just me. Because I know, if I am not, I’ll always be disappointed in myself and that’ll be a crappy life.

But first – I must finish ‘Frost’ – which I say a lot. For most, that’s a simple request, but for me – Queen of Procrastination – not so much.

I figured I would end this with a poem –

Silence! I scream loud!
A void, I feel deep, expands,
Forming frustration.

Until next time!
Peace. Love. && Fried Chicken.

PROOF! That I am in fact, editing Frost. Was able to get two chapters done yesterday.


Missing…

I miss being able to write poetry. It’s something simple but I’ve lost grip of it.

Some of my saddest moments logged many poems (that I no longer have). It was a way to unclog my mind when I needed help but wouldn’t ask for it. I have tried recently to write a simple poem – maybe I’m not sad anymore. Depression isn’t as strong, hasn’t been for almost five years.

Shouldn’t I be able to write about happiness? Write about love? I should be able to write about anything, right? But when I sit to write a poem, all I get is blanks. Unless you ask for a Haiku. They may be silly but I can write them all day long.

Haiku is actually the type of poetry that got me into writing when I was in fifth grade. After I wrote my first one, it opened my eyes to the beauty of words. My love for words has grown into a passion.

Writing – my first love. My first soulmate.

As I have aged, so has my writing. Has it gotten better? I’d like to think so, but that’s for others to decide, not me. I hope, just with any writer, that mine has gotten better – I at least know for certain it’s gotten better since I wrote my first poem.

All jokes aside – it’s been twenty years. Gosh… twenty years. Never realize how old you are until you break down the years. For example: my mother was fifteen years younger than my father. Fifteen years doesn’t seem much – until it’s broken down. My mother was born in 1962 – in 1962 my father was fifteen. At 18, my father enlisted into the military and had his first son – my mother was three. This was in 1965. Everything seems hunky -dory until it’s broken down.

Twenty years… writing has been my longest relationship. My best friend. The one thing I can turn to when I needed something that I couldn’t get from another person. I just hope one day that I will have something to show for it.

Like… a novel – or three.

But here, my darlings, just for y’all… a haiku:

I’m great! I’m awesome!
One day I will be published.
For now, I will write.

It’s not ‘traditional’, but I’m not from Japan. >.<