About Me

I have a thing for new beginnings and fresh starts.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Fat Blog- Day 79

I have this hankerin' every so often to write something deep. Thing is, I turn into an incredible coward when putting thoughts in writing when I know that someone will have access to it. I was taught by a very smart person, or rather a very private person, to always write as if someone was going to pick it up and read it. Smart words. As a result, my journals, growing up, were great works of fiction.

I had many journals. Food Journals. Poetry Journals. Short Stories. Novels. A few pages in; they'd stop. I was always buying new journals, displeased with the previous. Start a journal. Stop a journal. After awhile, I'd throw each of them in the trash. It was a weird, compulsive journal addiction I had.

i went through this phase where I gave up on capital letters and punctuation

Writing only in the lower case with no punctuation is really only acceptable in poems, and if you are e.e. cummings. I am not e.e. cummings and I haven't written a poem since high school. Poetry is a confidence I lost one day. I used to write poems obsessively; now I don't even try. I'd like to re-embrace my inner rhyme scheme... but not this day.

I have this soul crushing memory I want to share...

It was about four years ago and I was living in the Bronx. My daily commute started at the 1 train at 230 W Street. This one day, the subway was sooo busy and I was being bustled along in the flow of people traffic. At the turnstile an old man was struggling with his metro card; his hands were trembling and his swipes were clumsy. People were filing past him, annoyed, impatient and some people were even taunting him. No one swiped him through. By the time I really understood what was happening; I'd already swiped through to the other side. I was in a rush. I wasn't paying close attention. I was also grossly underemployed, stone-cold broke and couldn't have helped him if I wanted to. I only had a metro card and a pair of flip flops to my name. Those were incredibly difficult times for me. Still, I felt intensely sick and guilty for blocks; why didn't I stop and help him? SOMEONE should have given him a hand. I feel sick and guilty right now.

So these are some of the things that torture my little soul: Writers' block and depressing memories in times of extreme dis-empowerment. I suppose it could be worse.

Anyways, here's today's menu.

strawberry granola bar 3
2 veggie burgers 9
cruller 4
coffee 0
cardio +6
Cavatelli, peas, vegetarian chicken/sausage, tomato and feta 13

Total Points 23


Angela said...

I like your 'deep' moments :) I, on occasion, have them myself. It is easy to hide behind humor - I've done it for years. It really does keep you 'private' as you say. But somewhere along the way I lost the real me. Oh, I'm friends with her now but there was a time when I struggled to see 'her' in the mirror.
Write that poetry girl! Gifts like that don't go away - they are just cluttered with life.

Greta&Kiki said...

You're a good egg, Charlie Brown.

Ann Elizabeth Crazy said...

Sorry about the other day. Things went from slightly annoying to overwhelmingly annoying. You look really hot in your new pic by the way

daniel_gasparino said...

what about the autobiography?? I'm pretty sure it was your's I read....

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