Last night was one of those rare evenings when I didn't have to rush from work to the daycare. The hubby had taken the day off to go golfing. Afterwards he decided to pick up the boys early and take them fishing on the Reservoir. This meant I didn't have to worry about being Mommy for a few hours. I could do whatever I wanted!
I had to return some books I had borrowed from my mom. We visited for about an hour. Her garden may be small but it's already producing some veggies and fruit. Amazing.
When she found out I was going to a bookstore to listen to some author-types, she said she'd ride along. We just had to wait for her daughter to return. Well, eventually the teenager returned and we were able to pack up and head over to the bookstore. I have to admit I was a bit hesitant when she told the girls to get their shoes on, but I figured they could browse the bookstore while we listened to the readings.
It didn't quite work out that way. I'd never been to the bookstore before and didn't realize it would be about half the size of my house. The first level of my house, mind you.
When we arrived the readings were already underway. Mom grabbed us a small glass (okay, it was a plastic cup) of wine while I worked my way to the back of the audience. The girls hovered in the background. It was about five minutes later I started feeling a bit uncomfortable. Not for my sake. And not really for the girls' sakes--they're going to learn that people have different opinions and perspectives eventually. It was mom that I started worrying about as the poetry argued to legalize marijuana and other likewise morally-questionable ideals.
Mom is a bit conservative. Not so much when she's on her own, but with the two girls within earshot I knew she'd be uncomfortable with the content and some of the language. I was right. At the first break she jumped on the first excuse to leave.
No problem. I drove her and the girls home and then turned around and went right back to the reading.
I really enjoyed myself. I've never attended an open mic before and found the experience quite enjoyable. Inspiring. Exciting. Invigorating. It made me want to go home and write poetry.
I don't write poetry! I hate writing poetry! Whenever I've been forced into producing something poetic, I realize I am a lame poet. Yet, those few hours really made me consider giving myself permission to write poetry, even if it turns out horrendous and never sees the light of day.
Of course, it also made me want to get back to the novel. Pushed me towards that publication goal. Because you know, I was seriously thinking I wasn't going to even pursue publication with the latest novel. Now, I'm not so sure. Why not try? What do I have to lose?
I guess there's something about knowing that there are like-minded and similiarly driven people nearby. I was even invited to their Thursday workshops. I don't know that I'll go, but it was nice to feel included.
I had to return some books I had borrowed from my mom. We visited for about an hour. Her garden may be small but it's already producing some veggies and fruit. Amazing.
When she found out I was going to a bookstore to listen to some author-types, she said she'd ride along. We just had to wait for her daughter to return. Well, eventually the teenager returned and we were able to pack up and head over to the bookstore. I have to admit I was a bit hesitant when she told the girls to get their shoes on, but I figured they could browse the bookstore while we listened to the readings.
It didn't quite work out that way. I'd never been to the bookstore before and didn't realize it would be about half the size of my house. The first level of my house, mind you.
When we arrived the readings were already underway. Mom grabbed us a small glass (okay, it was a plastic cup) of wine while I worked my way to the back of the audience. The girls hovered in the background. It was about five minutes later I started feeling a bit uncomfortable. Not for my sake. And not really for the girls' sakes--they're going to learn that people have different opinions and perspectives eventually. It was mom that I started worrying about as the poetry argued to legalize marijuana and other likewise morally-questionable ideals.
Mom is a bit conservative. Not so much when she's on her own, but with the two girls within earshot I knew she'd be uncomfortable with the content and some of the language. I was right. At the first break she jumped on the first excuse to leave.
No problem. I drove her and the girls home and then turned around and went right back to the reading.
I really enjoyed myself. I've never attended an open mic before and found the experience quite enjoyable. Inspiring. Exciting. Invigorating. It made me want to go home and write poetry.
I don't write poetry! I hate writing poetry! Whenever I've been forced into producing something poetic, I realize I am a lame poet. Yet, those few hours really made me consider giving myself permission to write poetry, even if it turns out horrendous and never sees the light of day.
Of course, it also made me want to get back to the novel. Pushed me towards that publication goal. Because you know, I was seriously thinking I wasn't going to even pursue publication with the latest novel. Now, I'm not so sure. Why not try? What do I have to lose?
I guess there's something about knowing that there are like-minded and similiarly driven people nearby. I was even invited to their Thursday workshops. I don't know that I'll go, but it was nice to feel included.
Krista! Poetry! :)
ReplyDeleteOne day you are going to crack and will fall in love with poetry, I know it...
...or maybe not, but at least you enjoyed your free evening.