Open your laptop
The black keys are familiar.
Get on the Internet
Now it’s time to write
Now it’s time for your fingers to fly
Dashing away, trying to get every breath down
Writing, expressing, living through your words
I don’t write because someone has told me to
Because someone challenged me to
Because it simply makes me look a certain way
In order to comprehend the complexities of my own mind.
My mind is a three dimensional space of chaos
Putting pen to paper,
Fingers to keys,
My mind to others,
Forces me to lay everything out linearly,
It’s a type of therapy
Or a type of drug,
I can’t decide.
All I know is
I write to comprehend me
And I wouldn’t be able to without it
So I’m not going to stop anytime soon
Thank y’all so so much for reading this little poem. This one is for inspired4business, or Steve, who gave me the idea to write about what inspires me to write. I sorta changed it to why I write, but hey sometimes that happens. I love you all so so much, and I’m sorry for the later post. Have a beautiful day, I’ll talk to you tonight.
Okay so I know I’ve posted about it before, but in San Diego (where I live #bornandraised) we don’t get rain a lot so when it does rain everyone loses their fucking mind. Including me.
AND HOLY SHIT IT’S RAINING OUTSIDE AND IT’S BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE THE RUSTIC SMELL OF PETRICHOR IN THE AIR AND I LOVE THE GRAY CLOUDS AND THE SOUND OF RAIN PIT PATTERING ON CEMENT.
So yesterday and Friday.
Friday night I spent the night at my friend, A’s, new house and it was so much fun because she and I are just two old ladies when we get together. Honestly, we ate tons of pizza in bed, watched some game shows (Family Feud for life), and then fell asleep around 11. It’s probably one of my favorite sleepovers I’ve ever had to be honest.
Then Saturday morning I left A’s and went to pick up my sister from a sleepover she’d had with some of her coworkers. Then we went home and freshened up and went up to my friend, K’s, house for an afternoon of painting and food and laughter and general comiseration and therapy. It was absolutely delightful.
Then last night I cleaned my room and put in MY NEW BOOKCASE. It’s beautiful and I’m going to attach a photo of it and the end of this post.
Now today I’ve spent the majority of the day in bed, enjoying the quiet and relaxing before the week starts and talking to a few friends over in Europe who can’t talk during the week cuz of schedules and such.
I hope your day has been amazing, No One, and that you’re enoying whatever weather is afflicting where you live at the present moment. ❤
I can hardly breathe.
My lungs feel like they’re collapsing in on themselves
I hate the feeling.
I can hardly think
My thoughts focusing and refocusing on your absence
Like the focus of a camera
I miss your presence.
I can hardly see
Through the tears that well up in my eyes
As my heart is ripped apart from itself.
I can’t do this.
But you’re leaving.
All of you.
You’re all leaving
Don’t go, I don’t know
When I’ll see you again
If I’ll see you again
Looking the way you do
Full of life and a fire behind those eyes.
Don’t leave me
I can’t do this again.
And you’re gone.
And I’m here.
Crying over the people I love
Hating them for making me so
P.S. This is a very personal topic for me and it’s a very rough piece, but I’d appreciate some gentle critiques if any of you are willing to leave them. Thank you for reading this and I hope you aren’t judging me too harshly. It’s just been rough since Bobby left.
This is a poem written by me. Don’t steal it or I will be very pissed off. Thank you and I hope you enjoy the nostaglia I was feeling this morning.
Wafting through the air
I am assaulted by the smell of delicious cravings
Chocolate chip cookies baked by Bobby
Lemon bars laboriously brewed by my sister
Fresh peppermint bark that tantalizes my senses
And fills me with hunger and sugary delight
Then laying stagnant in the air
Our tree reminds me of a far off pine forest
That was once its home
Creating a nostalgia for a place I’ve never known
Christmases past were the scent of pine filled those energy wrought mornings
That I remember so fondly from my childhood
Then drifting hazily over it all
A hint of firewood burning accents the atmosphere
Brings warmth to my heart as I sit by the fireplace in thought
Pulls me back to cold winter nights when we all sat by the fire
Drinking hot chocolate and watching Christmas movies
Reminds me of times long past
When everything was much simpler
When everything smelled so beautiful.
This poem is about rain and was written by myself. It isn’t great, but I do love rain and its contradictory nature. Be nice and I hope you enjoy the living shit out of it. This was also written for my ENGL280 class and is my original work.
Flying down the clouds
One hits my cheek and moves slowly down my face
The drop of water looking like a tear
But my mind is full of joy at the sight of
The clouds are gray and the weather is cold
Girls scream as their hair is ruined for the day
Not at their misery
But at the miracle
Life giving and replenishing
Water that Zeus himself designed
Every dot of rain that gives life
To my mind.
Okay, I’m starting to hear you, No One. Y’all clearly enjoy my poetry, which -hey- is flattering to say the least.
I’ll be posting more of that on here then which is both exciting and nerve racking. Gotta focus on writing some good poetic shit which is probably good practice as a writer, poet, and novelist.
I think I’ll post another tonight, but until then I’m gonna talk at you (mostly for myself) for a hot minute.
Now I know I have yet to fully experience college like seniors at SDSU, but I feel like my whole opinion on the institution has greatly changed.
College (from what I understand) forces you to sometimes, if not often, be alone. Alone with your thoughts and with your textbooks. Secluded from friendships, sometimes with hundreds of miles between you and your best friend.
I don’t mind the quiet of loneliness too much. I thought I would have, but the silence and distance isn’t comforting, but rather reinforcing. Reinforcing that which I had only thought was true as knowing as fact. I thought my best friend, C, and I were good friends, but I didn’t realize how deep and truly magnificent our friendship was and is until some distance, separation, and silence was put in between us.
Furthermore, I thought it would be easier to make friends in college, and sure the first week it definitely was easy, but after that initial week when all of us freshmen were desperate for companionship and everyone had made their best friends, it became difficult. You have to put in time and effort into the people that you should CAREFULLY select as your friends. I didn’t make many friends this semester which again, I’m fine with. But for those few extroverts who read my blog, please understand the time and effort required, Don’t feel like no one wants to be your friend. It’s not you, everyone just has their own shit going on.
Also, homework. I know I’ve yet to experience the real wrath/ magnanimity of homework that perhaps juniors and seniors experience in college, but it is a lot more than I had originally guesstimated.
Additionally, professors couldn’t care less about you, except for a few. I know the professor of ENGL280 class was a significantly kinder and nicer fella than say my HIST101 professor who was terrifyingly apathetic to say the least. There’s a spectrum of professors and you just have to be ready to see every single one of them.
I don’t really know what else to say so here take a picture of my cappuccino.
Warning: This poem is violent, sarcastic, and contains some thoughts of mine on my birthday regarding Hope related puns. It’s also very funny in my opinion so I hope you enjoy. It is also from my ENGL280 class and my original work.
ping- my phone rings
ping-the same word in capitals
ping-like “Hope” pun fractals
ping-repeating on my wall
ping-“Aunt Bertha said on your wall-“
ping-“HOPE you have a good birthday! ;D”
ping-comments Uncle Ray
ping-Hope you have a great day!
ping-Hope Hope Hope
ping-how about nope?
ping- stop it with your criminal pun
ping-I want to run
ping-Away from my phone, laptop, and tablet
ping-but instead I go to the cabinet
ping-and grab my daddy’s gun
bang bang bang- all done!
No more annoying name puns for me to see!
Well hi, many new followers and people who apparently really enjoyed my poem that I posted early today. How’s it going? I know my day has gotten significantly better now. Thanks for following, really appreciate it! I’ll be posting another poem tomorrow morning hopefully so look out for that and yeah. Thanks! 🙂
This is a spoken word poem I wrote for my ENGL280 class, be nice and I hope you all enjoy the shit out of it
The 2014 San Diego State Take Back the Night walk hoped to draw attention to sexual violence and rape culture inside of fraternity activities. Peaceful protestors who walked down “frat” row, received obscenities yelled at them, dildos waved from windows, and eggs thrown from passing cars –
In that moment, I felt hated
sickening ooze cracked through thin membrane
dribbled down my face.
Hey bitch, you know you wanted it
Idiots hollered from their houses
we walked slowly –
let the yellow rape culture
clear embryo trickle down our cheeks.
Our moment of solidarity
Recently, I gave my novel to a professor who I admire very much so that he could read it over and give me feedback. When he finally did, the feedback was well in quantity and at first had me very beaten down, No One. If you’ve been here since then, then you know what I mean. If you are newer, here is a link to that blogpost ( https://hafletcher9718.wordpress.com/2014/10/17/critiques/ ). I’ve learned a lot about myself and being a writer through this one review of my novel and it has really helped me progress in my novel.
Now I wanted to show you guys how I took his advice and ran with it. Come along with me! 😀
Critique 1: A lot of my characters are stereotypical and lacking depth.
How I Fixed It: I’ve examined the gender roles and stereotypes that I (and society) had originally allocated to each character and broke them down. Deciding which trait or characteristics I would and WHY. Everything about each character now serves a purpose.
Critique 2: Well, of course she ends up with him. It’s a bit too obvious.
How I Fixed It: (trying not to give anything away, mind you) She doesn’t end up with him even though it looks that way because of her newly developed ande defined characteristic that span across both stereotypical male and female stereotypes.
Critique 3: This certain name means something entirely different from what I think you want it to mean.
How I Fixed It: Spent many hours of babynames.com and found a far better name.
Critique 4: You haven’t gotten to the main plot line in under 50 pages.
How I Fixed It: (still working on this one, but) Deleted a whole chapter and wove what that one chapter was trying to do and say into a few paragraphs in the next chapter.
So there. I did a thing, got critiqued on the thing, then fixed the thing. Obviously this is just the second version of HALF of a novel so I still have a far way to go and much to learn, but I thought I should share what I’ve learned thus far with you all.