First Real Post

Sore

When I bit my lip
to keep the words in,
they lodged
and festered,
digging into the soft, pink tissue,
turning the edges where my teeth blundered
white and pure
and dead.

The area swelled
gradually to a nuisance
eventually eliciting a grimace
upon each exploration
by a cautious tongue.

So now, when I open my mouth
to speak, the scraping of the sore,
the stretch of soft tissue
brings to mind my blunder
when I didn't say goodbye.

Poem:
In the future I might write a bit after the poem about what I like about it or what I was thinking when I wrote it, but I don't have much to say about this one in particular. I wrote it thinking that I don't ever want to refrain from saying something important and have that somehow be the last chance I had to make it known.

Observations:
I noticed recently that some bowls are marketed specifically as soup bowls. I'm not sure I understand. Aren't all bowls soup bowls? I don't think I've ever seen a bowl and thought "Oh, that bowl just wouldn't do for eating soup out of." I thought the reason they were called soup bowls had something to do with the shape, so I investigated. It turns out if you google image search soup bowl, all shapes of bowls come up. This supports my idea that all bowls are good for soup, but does nothing at all to explain why it is these particular bowls show up associated with soup. Perhaps it will forever be a mystery. All I know is that if I figure it out, I'm going to become the most finicky person when it comes to bowls. If a person hands me a bowl of soup in a cereal bowl, you can bet I'm going to give them a piece of my mind.

Exercise:
In order to think a bit about my own writing on a daily basis, this section will be devoted to a short writing exercise. I have no idea if these will prove interesting enough for readers of the blog, and if not, feel free to skip this section. I plan to draw heavily from CM Mayo's daily five minute exercises.
Write the first paragraph(s) of a story that begins:
She would not give him the last piece of pie.

She would not give him the last piece of pie. It was for his own good, she said, but he knew it was a sign that the relationship was headed downhill. Whenever a woman started knowing what was good for him, he prepared himself to cut his losses. In this case it started with pie. To her credit, she hadn't started her mission of modification with his gambling habits like the past three girlfriends. Maybe she thought it was too obvious. Maybe she knew it would tip him off. Well, he was on to her anyway.

Me:
And lastly, a short journal-y section about what's new in my life. Rather than try to summarize all of the relevant things in my life to date, I'm just going to jump in to current events. If I update this blog as regularly as I'd like, you'll pick up enough to make sense of my life eventually. I have decided that biking and handball might not be mutually exclusive. As long as I devote myself to continuing to practice handball regularly, I feel confident that I will be able to compensate for whatever fast-twitch muscle speed I lose with increased ambidexterity. I am enjoying break so far. Christmas at my parents' new house was fun, and I'm practically swimming in chocolate since my girlfriend's return from Germany. New Year's was alright. As a 21 year-old, I shirked my responsibility of getting drunk and instead barely made it to midnight. In fact, a good deal of the credit for my wakefulness goes to this blog. Getting the background anywhere near what I wanted was a bit of a hassle. If anyone reading has a comment about the layout/design/colors/font, let me know and I'll consider changing it. It looks great on my monitor, but I'm sure it's quite variable.