Negative Current

I make jokes in self defense

Most of the time,

I don’t make sense

to anyone but me

But that’s the draw, the intrigue

I drink tea that’s

steeped in dreams

To regulate the breath I

breathe

Otherwise,

it’s too much too soon

And I’m half a mile

past the moon

You’re a tree, and

I’m your branch

bur we’ll parish if not rooted

at the stance

We’ll grow separately

But that’s the pull,

the mystery

There’s proof within

the insulation

That we are more than our

obligations

We are cut from

the same mold

Dying young in clothes

of gold

Advertisements

231

The people here walk too apace for me,
abetted by each other in their snarls and growls.
Or, maybe that’s the animals; but then, what’s the difference?
They all show their teeth to deter full-moon howls.

The people here favor speed over accuracy,
bowing down to high-grade epoxies and temporary fixes.
But the issue lies deep in their tissue and cheekbones:
It’s all been contoured by Photoshop and adapted from pixels.

The people here are skipping steps on their way up;
They’re missing milestones and breaking news, technological advances.
But they’re still somehow measuring the hour with their pay grade,
because nothing moves forward quite like urban expanses.

The people here are staring unabashedly at me.
They’ll be out for my blood until I’m drained of all my assets.
And if I’m just like them, then I’m just like them; it’s no surprise.
But I’ll confine the traits that liken me to just a single facet.

The people here were trained to stick in upper-class arrogance.
It’s not as if you can take the money from the man.
I have found it’s easier to survive if you say you’re simply passing through,
than it would be to invest in property on their land.

The people here are so much like each other;
swinging double-edged swords around with a lack of finesse.
They pollute with their profanity and singe with their tongues;
they march around with noses up,
with hazy heads,
with loaded guns.

Seven billion people. Striking commonalities. (NaBloPoMo Day 1)

I clicked on the ‘inspire me!’ link in the body of this new post, naively hoping to be inspired. A prompt appeared, but I was curious to see what would happen if I were to click a second time. The prompt disappeared and the body remained empty again, not unlike my glass of orange juice that I’ve been meaning to get up and refill for the past seven minutes. So I guess I will start this post from scratch. Whatever. I didn’t need the jump-start, anyway, WordPress. I’ll show you.

I proclaimed in my first post that I intend to use this blog as an open forum for my creative works, for which I hope to receive constructive criticism and any advice that may help me improve as a writer. That remains true, but to gain some momentum I’ve decided to participate in NaBloPoMo for the month of July. Since I am too noncommittal to dive head-first into NaNoWriMo, I feel this is a decent place to start. I actually tried to participate in NaNoWriMo a couple of years ago; by ‘tried’ I mean I remained excited at the prospect of it during the entire month, but wrote this many words: zero. So much for that.

There is just over an hour left of Tuesday, the first of July here in Eastern Standard Time. I’m determined to have this post published before midnight strikes so that I make the deadline for the first prompt. We will see how that works out.

This summer is BlogHer’s 10th anniversary! Tell us something YOU have been doing for ten straight years.

The likelihood that I’d have something of merit to have been doing for ten straight years at 23 is slim to none. Maybe if I were older. Maybe if I were in my late thirties and had a few collegiate degrees under my belt and had been working in my career field since receiving my Bachelor’s. But I don’t even have my Bachelor’s degree yet. What I do have is a framed Spanish proficiency award from my senior year of high school and a National Honor Society brooch, the latter of which I actually probably don’t have anymore since I am pretty sure I lost it. In fact, I’m not sure where my award is, either. Never mind.

But that is not to say that there is nothing I’ve been doing for ten years. I’ve been living consecutively for ten years- more than that, actually! The number of years I’ve been breathing on a regular basis exceeds ten. I’ve been sleeping at night and awake during the day for more than ten years. On a more serious note, I discovered my love of writing at age twelve, which means I’ve been doing it for eleven years. That’s one more than ten. I think I probably learned to play the guitar in my early teens, so we will say I’ve been intermittently practicing and playing at a mediocre level for about ten years. Spongebob debuted on Nickelodeon in 1999, when I was eight, and I’ve had a probably unhealthy obsession with it ever since, so there’s that. As I have made evident here, I’ve been elementarily decent at math since I was a wee lad. How wee, you may be thinking. I don’t know, I’m not that good at math. Let’s just go with approximately ten years. I’ve been a citizen of the planet for over ten years. Which planet, I will leave up to your imagination.

I’ve been progressively growing for far more than ten straight years, physically, intellectually, spiritually. These accomplishments may seem mundane, but I am proud of each of them. What I am getting at here is this:

When you zoom out and take a look at the grand scheme of things, a decade seems like a pretty hefty chunk of time. When I first read today’s prompt, I immediately began to try to think of unique talents or special skills that I’ve harbored for at least ten consecutive years. While there are certain things I’m especially proud of having done, mostly I am fond of the subconscious patterns and processes I have developed since childhood. Some that I’ve listed probably seem pretty typical and standardized; a majority of people sleep at night, continue to grow, learn math. But it’s a somewhat subtle reminder that any two given strangers have incredibly similar developmental patterns. It is just one way of showing that humankind sprouted from a single core.

We are all pages of the same book, bound by the same spine.

What are some strikingly similar or vastly differing things that you’ve been doing for ten straight years? I would love to read all about them.

(Note: NaBloPoMo posts will not be translated into French.)