Last Night Was Crazy in meh...

Not in the way of wild party crazy.

I was in bed about to go to sleep, or at least trying to get more rest than I’ve been getting as of late. I lay there with my eyes closed and, this always happens, things come to me that perhaps I should write, but if I took the time to get a pen and paper they will go away and that spark is gone. I’m at my most creative (words & musically speaking) in that place between sleep and wakefulness and I can’t stand it. I lost my creative connection, or so it feels.

See, once upon a time, I wrote stuff. Between 2000-2011 I want to say, I wrote poetry, prose like. Raw emotional, autobiographical depictions of my inner soul. About nature, love lost, longed for, and experiencing (at the time) but mostly lost. I was okay. Others loved it. Sometimes, it felt forced and those were the ones that people loved. The stuff not forced, the bitterness I felt at the peak of the moment, people went crazy for it. Muses now come in the form of pictures I take on my cell phone. It’s peaceful I suppose.

At any rate, last night…

I was in bed when poetic speak jumped into my head. Part of it was surrounding the recent conversations with Him. The words spilled were wonderful, but as sleep took over, they jumbled like they were in a tumbling washing machine. It was smooth but wound around themselves and then I couldn’t hear the voice anymore. It became like Charlie Brown’s teacher and I couldn’t understand what was being said, but the feeling was there. I tried to concentrate, but the night over took and that was all she wrote. Once upon a time I would be hard pressed to find it again. To remember what I said. Like when I had a dream that Q-Tip from A Tribe Called Quest rapped over the Digable Planet’s “Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like That)” beat. Those were some dope lyrics and that shit was sick, but to recall what Tip was saying, I had nothing and it frustrated me.

All I can hear is my sister (rest her soul) repeatedly telling me I need to make a book. I have two tote bags and a bunch of unfinished writings. I also have like many books where I’ve started to write and because it felt forced, I left it. I don’t want to be mainstream. I don’t want to follow a pattern. “I don’t want to be anything other than me.” Gavin DeGraw said that.

So that was it. I revisited my old self again in the night only to come out not remembering who that was. ::shrugs/sighs::

Okay.
That’s it.

Have yourself a merry rest of the day.
I’m 1 for 2 meetings with the second occurring this afternoon.
Makes me feel important. lol

Kindest regards,
Sister