in fact, this is the most i’ve written in a couple of years. it seems odd to me to be so far removed from what so moved me in another phase of my life. in college i was known for my words – poetry – articles – whatever was on my mind. i rarely went anywhere without a pen and when i failed to produce paper it wasn’t uncommon for me to write out my latest poetic musings on the top of a to-go container.

i miss those days.

it seems the longer i go without writing the more my writing “muscles” atrophy. all of a sudden the thud in my chest that used to spill out into some form – sappy poetry or ranting essay- gets harder and harder to define. it isn’t that i don’t feel it, only that i can’t describe it, can’t find the words to make someone else feel it too.

a part of me feels as if i’m riding this hurricane thing into the ground – like i should be writing about something else…about how my thoughts about the handling of the whole situation fluctuate between indignation and understanding – between what i know about how america treats the poor/marginalized and how difficult disaster management can be – between my distaste for the neglect of those in need and my beleif in personal responsibility.

i hope i can get hold of this thud in my chest…work out the kinks in my pen and attack my thoughts in an organized way, or a poetic way, or any way other than simply writing about the thud in my chest that i can’t seem to write about.


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