Who’s that girl?? Finally listening to her inner voice (no, not the crazy ones!). We all have those another time, another place scenario that seems to linger but we rarely get to see it play out. Well, I’ve been marinating in mine this summer and it has been lovely. As the sun was retreating below the horizon on the last day of summer, my summer fling was going with it. We were old acquaintances; two fiercely independent individuals having a good sense of who they are, enjoying each other’s company. I could feel myself getting lost in the butterflies, the heart palpitations, and the weakening of my knees. Without sounding too cliché, I was awakened. Maybe, a bit too much! It has been so long, since I felt this rush. I was giving a little more of myself each time, freely. I made a decision to put my needs first and really followed through with it; I did not run from it, that’s the old, me. Somehow, from somewhere I found my words to say to the most amazing, decent human being. I might want more. I changed the dynamic. Already knowing his answer – he could not give me more and because of my absolute admiration for this man, I had to be fair to him and myself.
“The first time someone shows you who they are, believe them.” Maya Angelou
Ruminating on this possible loss, Elizabeth Bishop’s poem One Art kept replaying in my mind. This deceptively clever poem, which boldly claims in the first line, “The art of losing isn’t hard to master” she wants the reader to realize that insignificant losses (keys, wallet, phone) helps us grow accustom to bigger losses (family, friends, homes) in order to quickly get over them. Bishop’s telling us losing things should not be a disaster; we should step outside of these losses and remember the big picture. Although, the last stanza tells us, she is sad about losing a loved one but trying not to see it as a disaster.
Happiness is such a personal thing- It changes as we change. It grows as we grow. If it were a year ago, my status would not be:
Empowered; maybe. Proud; yes! Regrets; none.
Thrusting forward, the following Tuesday night, I walked into a room of writers. It was my first Advanced Prose writing class. Here, I was sitting amongst published novelist and screenplay writers in various genres of fantasy fiction, flash fiction and biographies. I was so out of my league. Most of the students were there to workshop-finished pieces; all I had to contribute were ideas for possible stories. My class objective is to write a short story from beginning to end.
Where to begin…. Once upon a time, there was a delusional girl, Ugh!
One Art by Elizabeth Bishop: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/176996
The Story of Expansion and Paige Bradley: http://www.mymodernmet.com/profiles/blogs/riveting-story-behind-that
~Nerissa
Here we are, now what? 