I have a hard time asking for help. I really do.
But when I ask for help and it doesn't come through
I feel like a petulant child about to pitch a fit.
I mean...full-on red-face, crossed-arms, ready to
stomp my foot making my pig-tails flip up. What
is it about this academic environment that makes
me regress? I get this head of steam out of pure
frustration. I need help and I can't do this on my
own and... I can't keep asking only to find more
rejection. You would think after all these years
I would have learned this lesson somewhere along
the way. Apparently not.
I have to write 250-words on what my research topic
for my Methods paper will be. That's all it is!!
I have done basic writing exercises to help me
narrow down my topic but I don'tquite have it yet.
I get that in the grand scheme of things
this is not really important....I do understand that.
There are more dire matters out there in the world
than this stupid paper. But right now, as I sit here,
writing about it...I can feel the desperation clawing at me.
I am being completely serious...look into my eyes...do
you see the "crazy" swirling back there. You see it, cause
it's there...It's 4:02 pm in the afternoon and I've been
working on this problem too long. Two weeks to be exact
and being no closer to the topic that I want to write about
makes me feel a little nutso. Yes, you read right, I used a
Fonzi term. Damn, I'm old. Okay, that just made me
giggle. It did, 'cause it's all so stupid...even writing on my
blog about it. COME ON! It's not that serious.
All right, back to work. I need to make some headway
before I get to class tonight. I'll work on it some more
when I get home. I just want a running start before I
get there. Better to have something than a whole lot of
nothing, right?
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Monday, March 23, 2009
03.22.09
Today it's about fragments and words,
post-it notes and colored flags.
Random research bits and messy poetry.
I want to write about s.e. but that would mean
wearing my heart on my sleeve
andI'd rather lock it up tight in a box.
Lock it up and throw away the key.
Even cliches...are thrown in for good measure.
There is nothing new to say...it's all been said before.
I spent the day in silence...reading texts, poetry, essays.
My eyes are weary, my notes are mounting and my brain
won't stop going to the past. Trying to decipher between
history and myth. Trying to make sense between poetic
license and actual memory. Strands that bind.
Knots are unraveling. Who writes when the poet sleeps?
I can't remember my dreams these days
and that always puts me out of sorts.
No sudden movements.
I keep trying to write about the past
but there seems to be a strange wall
that I keep hitting my head against.
Do you think if I keep hitting it I'll
break through? Then I wonder why
my head aches and why my heart
breaks. I held on too tight for too long.
So I spend a lot of time alone
because I have no patience for
I-told-you-so's that seem to echo...
adding salt to the wound...
they say time heals all wounds...
but when exactly does that happen?
how long does it actually take?
can someone give me a time line
because I think I'm long overdue.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
post-it notes and colored flags.
Random research bits and messy poetry.
I want to write about s.e. but that would mean
wearing my heart on my sleeve
andI'd rather lock it up tight in a box.
Lock it up and throw away the key.
Even cliches...are thrown in for good measure.
There is nothing new to say...it's all been said before.
I spent the day in silence...reading texts, poetry, essays.
My eyes are weary, my notes are mounting and my brain
won't stop going to the past. Trying to decipher between
history and myth. Trying to make sense between poetic
license and actual memory. Strands that bind.
Knots are unraveling. Who writes when the poet sleeps?
I can't remember my dreams these days
and that always puts me out of sorts.
No sudden movements.
I keep trying to write about the past
but there seems to be a strange wall
that I keep hitting my head against.
Do you think if I keep hitting it I'll
break through? Then I wonder why
my head aches and why my heart
breaks. I held on too tight for too long.
So I spend a lot of time alone
because I have no patience for
I-told-you-so's that seem to echo...
adding salt to the wound...
they say time heals all wounds...
but when exactly does that happen?
how long does it actually take?
can someone give me a time line
because I think I'm long overdue.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
A Steep Embankment
relentless upheaval
implode in a wheat field
absorbed into the sky
yellow tumultuous landscape
fierce in the contempt
restrain the birds
press hard and break wings
feathery-down graves
the sound of water
a beautiful voice
the stars are blind
grasp ribbon-tails
visitors need not attend
deliver the pleasure
in memory of
a smoky illusions
wafting in
a languid reverie
thrash about like pantomime
splayed about in an irreverent
manner, muttering fragments
beyond surface appearances
losing sleep over
tinges, pings, plucks, aches
brooding in dark corners
a preying mantis
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
implode in a wheat field
absorbed into the sky
yellow tumultuous landscape
fierce in the contempt
restrain the birds
press hard and break wings
feathery-down graves
the sound of water
a beautiful voice
the stars are blind
grasp ribbon-tails
visitors need not attend
deliver the pleasure
in memory of
a smoky illusions
wafting in
a languid reverie
thrash about like pantomime
splayed about in an irreverent
manner, muttering fragments
beyond surface appearances
losing sleep over
tinges, pings, plucks, aches
brooding in dark corners
a preying mantis
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
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