The Sunday Blues.

I am tired and my brain feels like it has turned to mush.

I have a poem due tomorrow in my writing class in which I have to include: something red, a caluculator, and a laptop cord. Or something pretty close to those. WTF? I am already horrible at writing poetry, and I'm expected to incorporate some of the most random items into a poem and make it a good one? In the words of Miley Cyrus, "Sweet niblets!"

My poems tend to turn into stories; the last one I wrote was like two pages long. People in the class were like, "Woah... that's a lot of words!" I guess I don't posess the gift of concision. I also don't think very poetically. One of my favorite bands has a lead singer with a lyrical soul, and when I attempt to put pen to paper I get frusterated that I wasn't also born with "the gift."

So here is what I have so far:

The Anticipated Acceptance Letter

eyes wide with anticipation,
red from the sting of tears.
i quietly calculate
what this letter means.
i power on my laptop,
as the rain hits the roof
with it's brilliant, translucent beads.
acceptance at an Ivy League
was merely a dream
until today.
yet somewhere, the sirens are wailing,
the "guilty police" rushing to
an arrest.
can i leave them? i question.
my family will cry for days
when they hear the (good?) news.
my selfishness devours me
and i answer my own question with a resonating Yes!
the slowness of my connection speed
frusterates, and gives me time to second guess.
but still when the page appears,
I click "accept" and fall asleep
dreaming of tomorrow.

BLAH! This one is worse than the last pathetic one I wrote... :-) Why is it that writer's block only comes when there are deadlines?! Well, my little brothers-in-law are tackling me and demanding to use my laptop: "nana, your compooter is like dad's! we need da find da games!" So hopefully my writing skills will magically blossom overnight and I'll have something better to say tomorrow. I doubt it.

Peace out.