The thinkings/opinions of a bizarre, quiet girl: BLOG (PERSONAL) -- Me and My Old Poetry (maybe v.1)

Well... this is sort of a cop-out blog. I'm still kind of recovering from last week's blog. Seriously... re-playing/re-living my past 5 relationships (about 8 year's worth of my life) wasn't all that fun. I was planning to blog about this one day -- I just didn't think it would be this soon. I also have to do stuff for work after this blog, so I don't have that much time either.

Pretty much, I'll be sharing some of my old poetry, talking about whatever comes to mind about those particular pieces. I'm aware that many people actually don't care much for poetry (at least, the people I know), so I won't be surprised if nobody reads this or my poetry. I don't exactly go out of my way to read poetry, either (though I do for song lyrics), though I've listened to some really neat and deep poetry readings on Youtube (will link to a few at the end of this blog).

My Poetry History

My first poem -- or rather -- the earliest poem I have is from 1993 (When I was in Grade 4). It was a poem about the colour Blue. It was a stupid poem that rhymed (not saying that rhyming poetry sucks -- mine just did). I went on to write more stupid poetry that rhymed. I even wrote them for my friends! And my guy friends! When I read them now, I'm so embarrassed, wondering, Oh my... what were my guy friends thinking when I wrote poetry for them?! I thought I was being a friend.

I started experimenting a bit more in Middle School, trying other forms of poetry. A lot of them surrounded the theme of heartache and freedom. Then in high school, I wrote about different issues, in different styles sometimes. I still wrote about heartache sometimes, and sometimes they rhymed, but in such a "raw" way -- my choice of words were soooo different when I wrote "raw" poetry (after thinking about it, I think the better description for this is angst, haha). I found it really neat.

Even though it's so embarrassing to read my old, stupid poetry, I'm really happy that I have them -- I always find it neat to get a glimpse of how I might have seen the world all those years ago -- what was important to me then -- what I struggled with then -- if the current me and the past me saw things differently, or if our viewpoints are still the same.

The poetry I'm going to share are going to be from my high school years (no real angsty stuff this time).

**********************************************************
Date Written: Saturday March 13, 1999 [Grade 9]

Who am I?

I am a spectator, not a doer.
I am a coward, not a hero.
I am my own, yet no one knows.
I am nothing.
I am a follower, not a leader.
I am a phantom, not a figure.
I'm alive, yet no one knows.
I am not nothing.

I am an artist; no one knows.
My heart is pretty; no one sees.
I'm full of colour; no one cares.
I've no identity.
I have a character; no one heeds.
I have a voice; no one hears.
I have a mind; no one believes.
To them I'm nobody.

I am a loser, not a winner.
I am deserted, not included.
I am lost and no one knows...
That I'm real.

Who am I?
Who cares?

My Thoughts

I don't have much to say about this. I think it's just me reflecting on my shyness and quiet nature and the kind of, err, consequences of it -- that many people end up never seeing the real me and just forget about me. Whenever I think about my shy and quiet nature, I think of something that a student teacher told me in Grade 7: "You're selfish. You keep your qualities hidden from the world. You keep yourself all to yourself." Those words have always struck a chord with me -- it was such a unique line of thought. And nobody had ever called me selfish for that specific reason.

As I've written in past blogs, I am still quite shy, quiet, and now awkward. But around my friends, I'd like to think they see that side of me as well as every other side of -- my weird thoughts, my bizarre sense of humour, my loudness -- everything. I try not to hold back with them.

**********************************************************
Date Written: Thursday November 4, 1999 [Grade 10]

My sight, they sharpen.
My taste, they broaden.
My hearing, they diversify.

My problems, they minimize.
My mind, they challenge.
My strength, they offer.

My joys, they share.
My dreams, they encourage.
My life, they enrich.

Their hearts, I value.
Their lives, I treasure.
Their departures, I deplore.

Immaculate jewels --
My friends.

My Thoughts

I don't think this needs any more elaboration. That's how I felt back then and it hasn't changed. I think I can safely say that it will never change.

**********************************************************
Date Written: Monday January 7, 2002 [Grade 12]

Don't call me good,

For I am not just good.
Don't call me evil,
For I am not just evil.
Don't say I'm this,
For I am not just this.
Don't say I'm that,
For I am not just that.

You expect nothing of me,
But for one quality
You think will never change.
Have you ever stepped in the same river twice?

If I lose that one quality,
Will you think less of me?
Expect nothing of me at last?
See me for all the qualities I have?

Please call me human,
For I am nothing but human.

My Thoughts

This is something I was really big on back then, and I still am now. The idea of being labelled -- of others thinking you're one thing and then expecting that one thing from you -- I think it's restrictive. An individual's personality or tastes will never be fully seen when that happens. And then when you don't live up to that one expectation, then you're no longer acknowledged, as if you possessed no other worthy qualities.

Labelling and expectations can also lead to one of my biggest pet peeves: making assumptions. I hate it when people make assumptions of me; more if they're negative assumptions; much more if they act on those assumptions without ever asking me for clarification.

I think this blog may end up being much longer if I get really into this, so I'll try to sum up why labelling/expectations/assumptions bother me a lot: When you're labelled, when people make certain expectations of you, you will be included for what matches what they think of you -- but you may be EXcluded from what they think will be a mismatch, even if that might not be true. You'll miss out -- on exposures, events, something -- because you weren't labelled that way -- because they didn't have those expectations of you. And of course, you won't be fully acknowledged, because they just don't see all of you.

**********************************************************

Youtube Poetry Readings

Well, it's poetry slam. And it's poetry from Taylor Mali, a well-known slam poet. Thanks for reading my blog. Next week's blog will hopefully more "normal", lol.