I don’t know if this is weird, so I’m going to talk it out.
Sometimes when I read, I feel inspired to write. It’s often a reaction to the content I’m reading about, or to the writing style. Usually it brings up things I’ve been thinking about and I write something in response.
One of my friends sent me some writing last night, and my reaction was almost immediate.
there’s nothing like a good old fashioned key change to get
i’m taking a break from holding up my world
and i go to sleep with hozier in my ears and pray in my own way
for my beliefs to settle as the room comes tumbling down
This is one stanza in a long-ish poem. I refer to Hozier because I was listening to Wasteland, Baby!, his second album, as I wrote. It’s one of my favorite writing and relaxing albums. Hozier is just awesome in general. I’m a big fan. His lyrics inspire a lot of my writing.
The writing my friend sent me had a palpable ache to it, and while I was not responding directly to the events that were recounted, I think I captured the sense of pain pretty well. For me, writing has to draw out quite a bit of emotion for me to respond to it in kind. Today is painful for me in a way that is also sweet.
I miss my dad today for some reason. I was leaving the cardiologist’s office (I’m okay, just needed to be checked up on since I haven’t been checked on in a while) and I saw an orange wind sock. I was reminded of riding through Grapevine, Texas and my dad pointing out the wind socks on top of the big hospital there. I almost broke down crying in the car on the way out.
I think my dad has been looking after both my husband and me in a special way since he died, and there are little things like that that remind me of that fact. We believe that Dad brought the two of us together. I think I talked Dad’s ear off enough about him for him to know my husband through me. I think he’s also closer because today is a special day for my husband and me – today marks the anniversary of the first time I saw him in person after us parting ways on 14 May 2012. That moment occurred last year on 15 May. The first thing I did upon seeing him was give him a kiss, which accidentally knocked his Bluetooth earpiece out of his ear. That’s probably the most me thing I have ever done. I don’t think we would’ve gotten this far without my dad’s influence in our lives. Were it not for Dad kicking my lovey’s metaphysical butt, I would not be living my dream.
i am a villain with rose colored glasses
with a world i hope i can change
at night i lay this body down
so many double things
was it ever real
the most real thing in my life is you
you – living stone
i somehow melted you
love is the strangest
i massage your back while you fall asleep
i’ve been told i’m loved by honest people
who meant it at the time
i found no comfort or rest there
but then you came along –
take a look at you now –
i believe this
i believe you
you tell me to put my glasses on
maybe they’re not rose colored at all
This is from today’s poem, written for my husband and me. Our adventures are the best. So long, Adventurers!