Winter

Spring

It is that day
when everyone else realizes
spring is inevitable
swarming the newly-soft ground,
spreading their blankets
where I stood in the drifts
just a week ago.
They throw Frisbees,
running, catching, dropping,
imperfect and annoying,
since I had laid claim
to this spot when it was still,
ice, and snow.

Poem:
I used to spend a lot of time on campus. I would hang out in computer labs, meet people to throw frisbees at all hours, and just be there in general. On multiple occasions I went on the open area of central campus while it was still covered in a foot of snow and threw with some equally crazy people. So this poem is about that. And about the fact that other people are only willing to do these things when the weather is perfect. I like to think that sets me apart. The thing I dislike most about this poem has to be the title, which is incredibly cliche.

Observation:
People are like gas. And, while it may seem like something I would say, in this case I am not talking about flatulence. I'm talking about how they expand to fill whatever space they are given. But I guess they're really more like a liquid, since they are obviously strictly bound by gravity, and so tend to stick to the surface. Either way, this characteristic can be quite annoying. It makes it incredibly hard to pass people on a bike, for one thing. I can't begin to count the number of times I've been stuck behind a group of chattering girls taking their sweet time walking between classes. They hardly make way for people going the opposite direction, so it's no surprise they take no account of the fact that there could be a person on a bicycle behind them who is constrained to the sidewalk by snow and yet doesn't really care what they put in their hair this morning. When I'm biking with someone else it's not too difficult to remedy the problem. I simply start talking really loudly as we make our approach. Sometimes I talk really loudly about the fact that it's necessary to talk really loudly in order to get people to let you by. Now, I know people think they make bicycle bells for this sort of thing, but I can't stand them. I generally can't stand the people that use them. "Ding ding! Make way, for it is I, the person so uptight and snobbish that I feel it is necessary the tone of a bell precede me wherever I go." Not for me. In general, I'm perfectly fine making a jaunt off the sidewalk to go around, but this snowy weather is interfering. It was slow going today between classes. I was almost late, despite leaving earlier than usual.

Exercise:
"Extremely Famous"
You (or your fictional character) are suddenly extremely famous. In what ways does your (or your character's) life change?

His meteoric rise to fame was nothing like he had pictured it. He was supposed to make it big with his voice. He had auditioned for American Idol on three separate occasions, for crying out loud. Every time they told him to keep trying, that if he loved singing, to keep at it. He wasn't supposed to be famous for simply being alive. The floods had been getting a lot of local news coverage, but when the video of him on his porch floating downstream hit the internet, something about it struck a national chord. He had just been sitting there. Well, and when he noticed the camera, he had started singing. He wasn't the kind of guy to pass up a bit of attention. And now here he was, the star of YouTube smash hit "Weird Singing Guy Floating Away" and he was being interviewed by morning talk shows and the local newspaper. Even his friends were calling him up to talk. At first he tried to use the attention to get some recognition for his voice, but he soon realized the laughter directed his way was not due entirely to his sense of humor. Disheveled and a bit downtrodden, he went back to his porch (the only part of his house he could reliably locate), and sat wondering what to do next. Fame was fine and all, but it hadn't gotten him off the porch.

Me:
I felt surprisingly bad today. I never really got my day going how I was hoping, and it all concluded with a rather poor showing on my bicycle. My legs were tired, my calf was cramping, and I just couldn't get focused. Things I take for granted were giving me pain, and for that reason, I retreated to my room to try and at least enjoy my night. But for some reason, that didn't quite go according to plan either. I can't really explain it. Some rhythm of my day was off, and it persisted. There was nothing I could point to as the cause, but the accumulation of it all left me quite underwhelmed. I don't know whether this is a common occurrence among others, but I can't really recall it happening prior to this. Maybe it's what they refer to as waking up on the wrong side of the bed. Anyway, hopefully it will be gone soon.
I had my first poetry class today, and I plan on using it and this blog in tandem to improve my writing. I think I'll start including some poetry exercises on occasion, too, since I have two books centered around finding things to write poems about, and I wouldn't want them to go unused. Besides, it good to have a break from fiction exercises every once in a while.