When Words Won't Come

We all know that writing is hard. In fact, I wrote an entire entry here about that fact once. It was hard. Hehe...see what I did there?

Today is one of those days. The words just don't want to be found. Hell, the topic doesn't even want to be found. But a friend and I promised to blog every week. And well...if she can do it, so can I.

So today...I borrow words. It was always one of my favorite classroom stations. "Found" poetry the smart people who came up with it call it. Over the years, I've had students borrow words in a number of ways from a number of sources for a number of different products. Today, I do the borrowing.

The poem below (and I'm using the term poem loosely here) consists entirely of the titles of books that can be found laying around my house at this very moment.

________________________________________

Bird by Bird
by Kristi Piper (and many other authors to whom I am grateful)

I is an other
Same kind of different as me
When women were birds
Uniquely human
Aging with grace

Passing it on
Reflections
My own words
For one more day
Journey to the heart

Made to crave
A song flung up to Heaven
Pieces 2 peace
Facing your giants
Brain on fire

Gather together in my name
Crossing the threshold of hope
Deeply loved
A hundred and one days
Grace for the moment

It's a long story
A long way gone

Bittersweet
__________________________________________

Well, there you have it. A complete blog entry (five hours ahead of my deadline), and a beautifully crafted poem (packed with meaning and nuance) that any poetry professor worth his or her salt would give at least a solid D-.

Obsessed With Being Obsessed

I am obsessed with being obsessed. It's true. I was diagnosed by an 11 year old on the television show Hoarders. He was describing his mother's addictive personality (not a phrase he knew), and I heard him say, "She would never be able to just take up jogging. She would have to train for a marathon."

Boom.

Wow.

Drop the mic., kid.

You nailed it.

I went to grad school...and didn't stop until I had a doctorate. I decided to lose weight...and had lap band surgery. I took up jogging...and trained for a marathon.

I get bored if I don't have an obsession.

I recently found a new obsession, one I am particularly excited about. There is no degree or finish line attached, but if I make it to wherever it might lead me, I think it might end up being the journey of which I will be the most proud.

I want to transform my body. Like really transform it. Like as in bodybuilding. But not in a real bodybuilding way (because I am a giant pansy). But body transformation.

I have dabbled with trends in the world of fitness since shortly after my lap band surgery in November of 2010. I've gone to bootcamps. I've taken a few kickboxing classes here and there. I've eaten Paleo (even went to a Paleo conference once) and completed a Whole30 (and attempted four more). I've jogged. And quit jogging. And jogged again. My point is...I've dabbled. Other than training for the Houston Marathon, I've never really stuck with anything consistently.

I met with a trainer recently to pitch the idea to her, the idea of transforming my body. I knew the exact trainer I needed (there was no doubt in my mind), and she was totally on board. And she asked me, "But how do I get you to show up?" I had attempted to work with her before and had flaked after an embarrassingly few sessions.

My answer? You don't. I do. I think I'm ready. Because I need something to be obsessed with.

It's that simple. I am currently obsessed with exploring how far I can push my body and watching what it does in response.

How's it going? Well, I'm still a giant pansy. But I'm showing up. And I'm loving it. And just the other day I thought I saw a muscle. And then I realized it was probably a streak on the mirror.

Some obsessions come to fruition slower than others.

A Little UFC Wisdom

I have a confession to make. I am a highlighter. A hopeless lover of highlighting. I have a highlighter on the table by my bed. A highlighter in my purse (OK, there are two). Multiple highlighters in my work bag. And an overly stuffed pencil pouch full of them in my office supply box. 

I love to highlight sentences and phrases that stand out to me when I read. If a line makes me think or makes me appreciate its wording or its wisdom, I highlight it. I very rarely (if ever) make notes. I don't jot down why I highlighted the statement. I simply highlight it and continue reading. 

Occasionally, I pick up an old book and thumb through it, reading only the highlighted passages. I like to see what stood out to me when I read the book and reflect on what I might have been thinking. I used to have a hard time letting go of books, so I was surrounded by a large supply of highlighted food-for-thought. Now that I no longer have a home office/library, I am limited on book space, but I make room and keep what I can. And yes...I still highlight. 

I often wonder (now that I have had to come to terms with letting books go...to what I hope are good homes) what the new reader thinks when they come across my highlighting. Does he or she wonder about the significance of the line? Does he or she get annoyed that I defaced a beloved book (much as I do when I see the mark of a past dogear)?

I am currently reading and rereading Maya Angelou's memoirs. I love her use of words (can't highlight her enough), and I wanted to experience her work in the order in which she wrote them. Aerosol highlight ink might be more efficient for marking her work. I understand that at some point highlighting becomes meaningless if it is overdone, but when I flip back through her work, some pages look more like coloring books than text. She was an artist in her use of words. 

I hope that when I write (currently working on a "book" about my Mema) someone will find my words highlight worthy. I know that it is possible to highlight e-books, but I don't find myself using that tool. And I've certainly never gone back through an electronic text to reread what I highlighted. I guess it's just not the same. But despite the leap to a new world where maybe you leave your highlighter behind (notice I said you...I'm still clinging to mine), there is still a feel of being highlighter worthy. 

Isn't that what a writer wants? To say something that is highlighter worthy.

Now...This highlighter rant was meant to be only my first paragraph to lead into my true topic. I intended to write about a line I heard from a UFC commentator. A line that made me stop and think, "If that were written down, I would highlight it." 

I considered going back and revising my title once my writing took on a direction of its own choosing, but instead, I will make this simple connection and leave the title...maybe as a teaser for next week's post and maybe as a reminder to myself to write about that line.