Take Note(s)!

Inspiration always seems to strike me at the most unfortunate times. Sometimes it is when I am driving, sometimes in the middle of a conversation, sometimes while I am in class. Then, when I am actually in need of inspiration, my mind is as dry as the Sahara. Because of this unfortunate lapse of inspiration, I started to jot notes down wherever I could when I am feeling inspired. I have a note on my phone, one on my iPad, a notebook in my purse, and a stick it note on my desk. Looking over my notes is pretty amusing, because the thoughts are so random. Here is a sample:

“How do I paint a shirt stretched across a back
That bends forward to look at taughtened sails
As they glide across the sea,
pushed by the muscles of the wind?

Heroes are just ordinary people doing the right thing under hard circumstances.

life is such an interesting thing,
the peasant someday may become the king.”

Just shows you how random my mind is, right? I have found that it is helpful to be able to refer back to these notes sometimes, and build off of their ideas for my writing. Moral of the story? Write down all of those crazy, random thoughts… You never know when you could use them for a blog post!

Prufrockin'

  

                        

One of my favorite poets of all time is T.S. Eliot. My boyfriend introduced me to him a few years ago via "The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock." The first time I read it, I thought it was really weird. Even so, it kept coming back into my mind... I couldn't seem to shake it.

In my freshman year, we studied Prufrock English 214, and I fell in love with the poem. Every time I came to read Eliot's words, I seemed to find something new. The abstraction of the meaning of the verses made it possible to look at each sentence in a different light. 

Prufrock's lament about measuring out his life in coffee spoons, and his continual self analyzation really stuck with me, and his eternal question "do I dare disturb the universe?" haunted me continually. 

Some things seem to always come back to me in my writing. They sneak in without my knowing it, and they influence all that I write. The sea is one of these things, but Prufrock is undoubtedly another. Perhaps it is because I see a little of myself in him, perhaps it is because I fear becoming him. Perhaps, it is because I continually ask myself "do I dare, and do I dare?"