How's that for clarity?

I'm on hold, as much now as ever before. I'm waiting for someone to save me. There is no one. There is also no way to save myself. I can do things, but they are never going to be completely fulfilling for me without being able to share them. In the past I've tried to make that additional layer of meaning by relying on one person to share it with, but this has perhaps made me into a much more dependent person than I'd prefer. Still, I can't ignore what's true to me. So if it's not going to be found in an other, perhaps it can me found in others. Community.

One of the reasons I moved here was because I imagined there would be a writing community -- a bunch of people from writing school seemed to be coalescing near each other. I thought there would, at the least, be some nights a months that we got together & talked about what we were reading or working on. But it turns out to be more like sometimes I ask one person to do writing exercises with me, and sometimes it happens. I'm certainly glad for that, & it's infinitely better than not having anyone at all, but that's certainly not a vibrant sharing community. I'm not sure what I expected exactly, but I'm sure now that whatever it was I have to make it.

All the things that were available to me before are available to me now.

I am counting them down.

a trail, a train, a ghost's veil

It's sad & funny that when I try to arrange my links I find that the poetry sites fall to the bottom. I'm not sure if that's indicative of my whole life, or just my life right now. Maybe it's just that I haven't found the sites/magazines/blogs/whatevers that really light me up. Maybe it's just that they're not as pretty as design sites. Maybe it's that in avoiding myself I've avoided the thing I'm most driven to do, trying to fill that creative space with something visual, something that requires a whole new set of vulnerabilities & talents.

Talking about writing, however, seems to be saving my life. Perhaps it's having something meaningful but not dire to talk about. Or making the time to talk about something I'm really enthusiastic about with other people who are too. Perhaps it's as simple considering something I'm actually able to control the outcome of.

These last couple of days I've been getting up in the mornings and poking around other people's writing blog & reading poems. I'm wondering why I wasn't doing it all along. I don't really have an answer for myself. I guess I have to start it up again -- as well now as any other time.

I made this blog

as some sort of a badge: