It Was Real Once

I miss my house.

Waking up this morning to the memory of the house I used to have that was mine.  Who am I kidding, I fell asleep remembering my house.

Back when I still believed in the reality of the possible.

Back before the illusions were not entirely stripped away from my mind and eyes and saw the deceptions, costuming, and falseness that I live in and around.

I miss my house.  Where I had space and privacy in my home.  The prying eyes that even existed then were farther away.  Where the birds and wildlife were real and not canned.

It was not much of a house.  It was not grand.  It was mine.

Yesterday I was reminded of a poem I wrote back in college.  My life the last several years people have read too much into it.  People thinking there is more written between the lines.  Instead, of the writing being just what it is – writing.

Back in college I took a Creative Writing class just to try it on for size.  I was working full-time, going to school part-time, trying to have a social-life, trying to live in between the other minutes left in the end of the day.  It was a tough time.

I cheated.

I was writing for an assignment and not for myself.  I was under a deadline, I had other classes that had demands on my time.  So, I did the best that I could.  I was doing homework while on my breaks at work just to get everything accomplished in the day.  At that time every minute of my day was filled.

The assignment was to write a poem.  I’d never written a poem in my life, and I knew very little about poetry.  I’d not read much – at that time – let alone read poetry.

There was a poem in my textbook, I think it was about Spring, so I wrote about Autumn.  The next line was about the wind, so I wrote something about the breeze.  If it was a color I changed the color.  If it was about a person I just changed it slightly.

From what I know of writers and writing now – this is not an uncommon practice.

It accomplished the task.  I received a grade, and it was a good grade.  But, to me the poem is like an artificial sweetener.  It tastes sweet, but there is an after taste.  And, honestly the taste and flavor are all wrong.  Artificial is never as good as the real thing.

In my writing, I know the difference even if others do not.

Plus, just to get this off my chest.  I refuse to be made to feel bad for writing at my desk where there is a desk, etc.