My Tabula Rasa
So, after reading a few stories and poems throughout the day, I thought to myself, that was me once upon a time. Maybe this is why I can’t dive into a book and just read for long periods of time without getting distracted anymore. Then I thought to myself, maybe I need to start writing again. Just a little practice is all it takes. I have the thought process, I have the creative skills. Without further ado…
Realizations of the Past
Back in the day, I wrote and wrote for hours. Technology wasn’t as big as it was now, and I had very little distractions other than school. Why did I write though? I think about it now and it’s not as clear as when the writing actually took place. After analyzing it though, the smoke drifts away into the cold dark night, and the moon shines it’s light, ever so brightly. The answers I have searched for are now under a spotlight as if I’m being told “Hey YOU! Yeah, YOU! Here it is!”
I started writing in grade school. I had just moved to New Jersey and I didn’t know anyone. The only object of comfort was my teachers. They welcomed me with open arms, well, most of them did at least. The one teacher in specific, that I still hold close to my heart, is my 8th grade English teacher. I don’t know her name anymore but I remember one thing she taught me that I might have forgotten after all these years. “Write what you feel. Write with your emotions. Whatever you are thinking about, whatever you’re seeing, write about that too.” That is what she said verbatim. I’m glad I remember this now. It might help me in years to come.
My first assignment in the class was to write a poem about a song that the teacher had played in class. We were to write a poem about what the song meant to us. The song: War by Edwin Starr. Mind you, this was back in 1999, war wasn’t that popular back then, we were actually just getting over Desert Storm. I don’t remember the actual poem that I wrote, hell, it was over 10 years ago, but I do remember referring to a song by Korn called Make Me Bad from their album Issues. The teacher absolutely loved my poem. I’m sure I have it around my house somewhere. I hope.
This takes me back to remembering why I used to fill up countless black and white notebooks with poetry, you know, the Marble Notebooks. I had lots of feelings that I wanted to share with the world. I had very little people to share them with. I was also thirteen, fresh into puberty, emotions raging, but no friends. So I wrote.
Now, I have a few good friends. I have co-workers that I can talk to. I have the internet and my blog. More importantly, I have my wife. Take all of this into account and it’s probably why I haven’t written anything in over 5 years aside from a paper for school. This is my tabula rasa or blank slate, if you will.