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  1. My friend and co-worker, Richard, was nice enough to attend the poetry reading that I wrote about last week and tape me on his phone, so I could have something on line of me reading my poems.  How hard could it be?  Well, we saw each other at work on Wednesday afternoon.  After classes, we sat together and hoped it would be a simple procedure to transfer the videos to my email.  After he fiddled around for a while, this is pretty much what happened over the next few hours.
    I don't know how to do this.  See if you find Kitty and see if she can help.  Kitty's here.  Do you have a Dropbox?  Then I can drop them in my Dropbox and send them to your Dropbox.  So I open a Dropbox account, but I don't know what my address is.  Maybe it is simply, and I'm making it more difficult.  I am a lost child in a community of installs, pdf's, links, upgrades, downloads, shared folders, external drives, sync-ing computers... Waaah!  I never really learned to program my VCR or which remote control controls the volume on the TV or the DVD player or how to forward a text.  Forget Dropbox.  I can put it on Picasa.  Can you get them from there?  I don't know.  I think I have a Picasa account too.  Why is it all so complicated?  Here sit at my desk.  You can look at the videos.  Oh look!  There's something to click on to upload it to YouTube.  I hope it works.  Kitty, I'll find out tomorrow.  I can't stand it anymore.  Can I get them off my phone now?  Yes, Kitty said they are now living on Picasa.  Did you see them?  Yes, Richard, I did.  This has been so exhausting that I didn't even mention that I saw them and like them and am glad I will eventually be able to put some on line.  Thanks for taping me. 
    Then a few more tomorrows went by.  Yesterday (Monday), I faced it all again because I wanted to include some of the poetry reading here.   I ended up staying after work for more than an hour. 
    Some of the poems are fun, some sad, some hopeful.  Here's a few. 
    "Just Another Feminist Moment in the Neighborhood" 

    "1/3 Twinkie Too Much" 
    A relatively new person in my life who was at the reading commented to me on my early life and specifically on the cousin in the Twinkie poem.  She described the cousin as a mean-spirited girl.  She does not know how much that helped me.  I realized what a huge part of my problem was in my development.  It wasn't each experience as much as it was how it got handled or didn't.  That cousin was always described as good.  It was based on politics (who the cousin was born to) and not on who she was.  Public image as opposed to a real personal relationship.  I was often compared to her as if she were a better person than I which was truly twisted.  I was born into a family war zone in many ways.  The older I get, the clearer it all becomes. 
    Validation goes a very long way.  I have felt that since I was a child angels on Earth have appeared to help me through my hell.  This woman is very soft-spoken and intelligent, easy to be with and feel close to.  Those qualities remind me of my mother's best.  My mother was very different than most, and unfortunately she suffered much.  When she was able to be an active mother, she was so special and often so different than all the other women in my family.  I was lucky to feel/know her love though our togetherness was way too short and interrupted. 
    On a hopeful note, I closed the reading with this poem that I've been changing and adding to on and off for years.  "Creating a World..." (poem in progress)

  2. 5 comments:

    1. Canada Anne said...

      hahhahah brilliant I love it "now my hair is messed up!" You look great BTW.

    2. RHC said...

      Mercury was in retrograde for a while, interfering with technical maneuvers. I am so glad you captured your poems. I loved hearing your voice connected to the thoughts

    3. Mary said...

      I want to live in a world where your poetry is heard often and felt deeply. I want to live in a world is my favorite. Fuck the Twinkie kid. That kind of cheapness doesn't serve anyone well. A person like that can never love fully because they don't know how to give.

    4. Rhonda, you mean it wasn't my developmental delay in the world of technology? There was some bigger reason? I like that explanation. :-)

      Mary, my life would have felt much better if someone in the position of raising me would've said, "Fuck the Twinkie kid" instead of how unbelievably wonderful she was. At a younger age than that cousin was at that time, I bathed my grandmother. Yet my grandmother praised the one who never knew what I endured, and I was called a difficult child. I had to endure and keep it to myself so those cousins wouldn't know what went on in my house. I hope I write my autobiography before my time on Earth is over. I really need to. In the meantime, thank you for being one of the angels.

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