Reminiscing

I found my old poetry box from grade twelve English.

I carved it from an old Nintendo system. Heee. My brothers weren't exactly thrilled about that.

But now, two years later, it's amazing.

Mostly, it's amazing what I could write and...create back in those days...

Charissa Reminisces About Highschool

When I was in highschool, I was totally arrogant. I thought I was da shizz. I was invincible; omnipotent; amazing stuff. I wasn't afraid of anything. Whatever I wanted to do was justified by my wanting to do it.

Not so anymore. I don't know what caused that; was it James, was it the Army, was it the lack of school; my desk job reading scripts... I can't talk anymore. I stutter, I stumble, I have no vocabulary. I doubt myself, I'm noncommittal, I'm lethargic.

And I have no social life.


Reflections on the Poetry Box

I made a poetry box in grade nine, too. It looks like a "hat box", people keep telling me, and it's covered in red fabric. On the top is a large piece of white paper with the small-written word "PRETENTIOUS". Hah!

I like the Nintendo box, though.

I was going for a sort of "It is past, but it is to come" or "The past will meet up with you again soon" or "You'll remember me in (fifteen) years."

Contents

Editorial - "FREE Rolex, Viagra and Designer Handbags!!!"
about spam and ham and e-mail stuff.

Short Story - "Alex's Art"

• horrible, horrible piece of crap I squeezed out just before the due-date.

Monologue - "Banquo's Descent"

• portrayed as a typical blog, complete with profile picture, "biography" and calendar of updates.

Narrative Poem - "Stipper and Jo"

• stuffed into the sleeve for a 8 + 1/2 inch floppy disk.

Cinquain - "I hate spam"

• in the pink "e-mail" envelope

Note Poem - "I just wanted to say..."

• in the pink "e-mail" envelope.
  
• our teacher really liked this "I just wanted to say..." concept; as though a poem could be a note left somewhere--or a note left somewhere could be a poem. I have no love for this "poem".

Sonnet - "Sonnet no. 1"

• this really was my first sonnet. I'm so happy it turned out almost exactly as I wanted. My only annoyance is with "Thus, twenty born in time soon die in dearth" which is supposed to mean, "Even though 20 infants are born at the same time, they die in a bad / unfulfilling life.
  
• it is attached to a Lego flying-vehicle, which is a toy of something that doesn't exist yet. I wanted to be sort-of representative of "something from your youth will meet you in the future" and have a sort of "You were once happy--purely and innocently happy. That was called Joy" to fit with that last couplet. Mm.
  

The "Your.Blog.Net" is a monologue. Monologue can be read here; snippets of it can be viewed here (Flash).

Stipper and Jo can be read here, with an explanation at the bottom.

Inside that pink envelope are two poems:

I hate spam, a Cinquain

>>OPEN

Get a FREE car!

Your Diploma Awaits!!

Miss Tiffany Wants to Meet You!!!

>>Delete

and

I just wanted to say...

I have longer hair now
and I'm
some two inches taller.
Mom says I'm getting fat.

I still like Chopin and Ellington
but I've started on Radiohead and
Orbital.
I found your Pink Floyd collection.

see you this summer.

Attached to a Lego^TM ship is a sonnet. It can also be read and appreciated artfully (pfft!) here.

Sonnet no. 1

Wild, screaming and bloody was I at birth,
Where nineteen other mothers might share screams.
Thus, twenty born in time soon die in dearth:
Our lives, all substance, wealth--no thoughts, no dreams.

We're beaten gently by nurses, sometimes
If our independent lungs refuse air.
We cry, bewildered, not knowing our crimes,
Suck in air to cry--we breathe unaware.

We grow, we learn to love, live, and commit;
Somehow, our brains can overcome all frays:
Nights unsleeping; throes of death's counterfeit,
'Til all giv'n effort untangles ablaze.

How'ver wraught with pain and with griefs to cloy,
It is life and I live and it is joy.

In other news

I tried to donate blood again today. Augh, disaster! The nurses poked around my left arm a bit, trying to feel for usable veins/arteries. That took ages. They finally found one, but it was deep down and they were a bit worried. I'm not sure if it was foolish, but I told them to go ahead anyway.

OUCH. She hit a nerve, and it sent a bolt right up to my thumb--like when you "hit your funny bone", except there's a 2mm metal tube sticking into your arm. Ooooch! Out of all the times I've tried to donate, that was the ONLY PAINFUL experience! She withdrew.

After some ice and a brief cool-down, I suggested they try my other arm. My blood-test-doctor is very good and can always get blood out of this one, very visible vein off to the side. Unfortunately, the nurses couldn't feel the vein. Since the alternative was to blindly poke into the centre, I mentioned that, at least you could see this vein!

Well, seeing wasn't enough. They tried, but it just wouldn't bleed fast enough.

I ended the day with a very, very, FRUCKIN' SORE left arm (still hurts when I move too much), and a few millilitres less blood. Fruck!


Sleepy time!
--Charissa