Read, Reflection, Relevant

Lists and Promises

Those of you that know me well could testify that I’m somewhat obsessive compulsive about making lists. I write at least three or four to-do lists every day, sometimes even micromanaging my time scheduling what I will do in thirty minute increments. I promise this is the only thing I’m crazy organized about in life, my roommate can testify to that lovely truth. But there’s something truly satisfying about crossing items off of lists. I admit that I have been known to write already-completely items on my to-do lists just for the satisfaction of crossing something off. No shame. But today as I flipped through my to-do lists from the week, I noticed a one-word to-do item that was carried from each day to the next last week and was never crossed out: blog.

I hate when this space becomes bare and the gaps in between substantial posts widens far more than I prefer. I just crossed the midterm mark in the semester, which for you post-college cats probably seems like a cakewalk in hindsight, and I realize the real world is a grim place and that I should be thankful to sit in the coziness of my college life as long as possible. But this semester is demanding a lot of my time, which is why I haven’t been writing in my sweet little blogging space as much as I would like to be. I have been writing though, more than ever have before, actually. I’m two drafts into a couple of long-form nonfiction essays for workshop that are demanding all of my time and love. I’m not sure that I’ll share them here at any point; they’re really quite long. But I’m happy to be writing and writing a lot even if none of it is being posted here.

All this to say I hope to get back on track with writing for you cats. I appreciate you being patient and continuing to care despite my evident lack of attention to this space. You guys are the tops. I mean it.

And because I heard him speak last week and love his work even more than I did before, I leave you with a poem by Kevin Prufer to slow down your day a bit, to sit with, to get to know, and absorb the way it asks you to.

In a Beautiful Country
by Kevin Prufer

A good way to fall in love
is to turn off the headlights
and drive very fast down dark roads.

Another way to fall in love
is to say they are only mints
and swallow them with a strong drink.

Then it is autumn in the body.
Your hands are cold.
Then it is winter and we are still at war.

The gold-haired girl is singing into your ear
about how we live in a beautiful country.
Snow sifts from the clouds

into your drink. It doesn’t matter about the war.
A good way to fall in love
is to close up the garage and turn the engine on,

then down you’ll fall through lovely mists
as a body might fall early one morning
from a high window into love. Love,

the broken glass. Love, the scissors
and the water basin. A good way to fall
is with a rope to catch you.

A good way is with something to drink
to help you march forward.
The gold-haired girl says, Don’t worry

about the armies, says, We live in a time
full of love. You’re thinking about this too much.
Slow down. Nothing bad will happen.




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