NaPo frustration

Another NaPo is almost over, and again I’ve missed out on much of the goodness. April is such a hectic month for me, but I can’t blame my business. I’m just out of synch with poetry. I have been for a while. I’m the rhythmless girl dancing at the rave.

I’ve heard it said that some people don’t really understand that they can’t stay in love with their spouses forever, not with that same intensity and single-mindedness as they had at the beginning. And so, they can’t handle the change in their relationship and they break it off to start anew with someone else.

I can’t seem to recapture my passion for poetry, so I keep thinking about divorce. It’s childish, and I know it, but there has to be a way to feel that good about poetry again.

I’m not sold on sevenlings

At pffa during NaPo, lots of people are busting out the sevenlings for their daily poems. Scavella can make a poem from the form. The rest? Eh.

The good thing is that they are much shorter than the previous bane of my poetic existence–sestinas. Another good thing is they aren’t as banal as most attempts at haiku.

There. Now I’ve offended almost everyone. I should throw in something mean about sonnets just to cover the bases.

I’m beginning to hate them

As some of you might remember, I’m taking a course. I’m nearly done, but they keep adding stuff to it, and all the stuff they keep adding is just make-work.

I hate them. It’s a small hatred right now, like my hatred of, say, raisins. But it could grow into something rather magnificent if given the opportunity. Stay tuned.

I am here!

Blogger really does hate me, since I’ve been trying for two days to post comments on people’s blogs (Sandra, I loved your poem!) and to post NaPoing adventures here. I can manage to log in, but not post. Will this go through? Who knows! The excitement is in finding out.

Right?

*crickets*

Still in Cleveland

We went to the ballpark yesterday. Left the hotel a little after 1. Got to Tower Center a little before 2. Futzed around until nearly 3, then decided to brave the cold. Walked the block or so to the ballpark, where a security dude felt up my fuzzy blankie. As I accepted it back from him, I said, “Keep warm.”

He said, “Oh, it’s way too late for that.”

That’s when I knew that we were making a mistake. I also knew that he just wanted to hold my fuzzy blankie for a few seconds because it looked toasty.

We puttered. The game was supposed to start at 4:05. At about 3:55 we went to our seats. The seats were covered in ice and snow, but we scooped and brushed and scraped and Steve had Dairy Queen napkins in his coat pocket for reasons that escape me.

As soon as we arrived, they announced a delay until 5. We groaned.

The people behind us were from Columbus. The people beside us were from Columbus. We’re from the general neighborhood of Columbus (closer than any other recognizable city). It was down home week.

The game started. The game stopped. We went down the stairs to see if we could get a hot chocolate. The game started and stopped while we were in line. A guy ran out onto the field and made a snow angel in right. People ahead of us in line ran up the stairs to see the guy making a snow angel. We wouldn’t have let them back into line if they had asked, but they didn’t.

We got to the counter and there was no hot chocolate. We got hot dogs. I ate mine with ballpark mustard and ended up with mustard near my ear. There is no explanation. We went back up. The game started again.

Two out in the top of the 5th, bases loaded. Two strikes. The umpire halted play again. I knew they weren’t going to restart it, but still we waited until it was officially called. I nearly cried, but I was dehydrated and my eyeballs were frozen. They announced it was to be a Day-Night Doubleheader today and I knew there was no way I could handle it. I felt a rising hysteria at the thought.

But then both games were postponed, so today was spent in a lot more comfort. I have a cold and an earache and am drinking vast quantities of Diet Coke. A band of elephants keeps passing the hotel room door. They would probably claim to be Americans if pressed for information.

I’m behind on NaPo, tired, achy, and cranky. But I’m in a much better mood than I was last night. Ah, the power of caffeine.