Inspiration Comes in Raw Packages

There's nothing like finding inspiration in someone else. 
Thanks to friend Kyrsten from my creative poetry class, I've discovered Taylor Mali, a former-teacher-turned-slam-poet. I spent an hour watching youTube videos of him last night, spent another hour making my husband watch them, and after was so inspired I sat down and wrote something in under 30 minutes.

I love it when that happens.

So before you think, "Blah.  I'm not going to watch some guy recite poetry," I urge you to take a minute. Or three. Watch the clip below.

Listen.

If you like what you see (and I think you will), try these:

• On What Teachers Make
• The The Impotence of Proofreading
• Labeling Keys
• Defending American Interests

 But to tell the truth, I find his deeper stuff (listed below) to be breathtaking --- literally.  I found myself holding my breath. His willingness to bare his soul... I struggle with that in my writing.  I'm always aware of who I might hurt.  If I write about an ex-boyfriend, will I hurt my husband? The ex's family? If I write about my family, will it offend my grandmother? And so on and so on. My friend Mica tells me that I'm more honest than she ever could be, and perhaps that's true. (Read her guest blog, A "Clark Griswold" Holiday)

But I know it's not enough when I find myself censoring my pen.

Because when I read writing that's raw --- or hear it like Taylor does below --- that's what really packs the punch; they're the words that stick with me. Inspiration comes in raw packages.

• Depression, Too, is a Type of Fire
• Entire Act of Sorrow
• For the Life of Me

To sum up, it seems I recommend watching everything he's ever done on youTube.  I hope you find him as inspirational as I have.  And by all means, please share him (& this post) with your friends on Facebook & Twitter, too!


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The Wishing Star | An Original Poem

We read about it in one of your beginner books. You 
want to wish on a star and on a whim I rush us
out to the porch. Quick! I say, it's cold and you're in a nightgown.


So we squeeze our eyes shut and you wish to be
an artist and I to write a book. Then we lie in the dark, faces
huddled together like girls at a slumber party.


To be a real artist, you explain, means you have the fancy
hat and a messy apron. Can we buy these 
tomorrow so your wish will come true?


Then I tell you that once upon a time I wished on a star. You 
think about this. Did it come true?
Yes, I answer, touching your nose.


You stare for a long moment, your three-year-old eyes
holding mine, for the first time full
of understanding.

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My Obsession with the Compact Disc

There's something about listening to a CD... an actual. compact. disc.

I don't know why exactly, but it makes me listen in a different way.  As much as I adore the iPod (okay, seriously adore the iPod) it's taken something away from my listening experience.

Maybe it's associated with the physical sensation... Plucking through the CD visor, the flaps too loose from overcrowding.  Holding a finger through one, two, sometimes six at a time while I search through pockets.  Cursing when I drive over railroad tracks and discs fly out.

Okay, maybe I don't miss that.

You see, one of the features I love most about iTunes is its ability to create playlists.  I've got Favorites, and Girls! Girls! Girls!, Early Morning, and Calm Me Down.  Playlists are the quintessential mixed tape, or perhaps her hotter, hipper, younger replacement.  When I belt out Martina McBride's Independence Day and go straight into Evanescence' My Immortal, that's a pretty awesome Sing Out Loud mix.

In recent weeks, though, I've been exploring new music, and there's a certain connection between artist and listener when the songs are played in order. When I pop in a new CD and listen from start to finish, the arrangement might affect me as much as the melody or lyrics.  In addition, I find that my "Music A.D.D." goes away.  If listening to my iPod, I'm constantly switching songs;  but when listening to a CD, I listen over and over, sometimes for days at a time.  When I'm done with a CD, I know the music -- better than anything I've downloaded straight to an iPod.

Which is probably why, when deciding the Holy Grail of my favorite albums, eight of the top ten are b.i.t. (before iTunes).  Just looking at the album covers invoke a homesickness in me. It's the same feeling I get when I think about my childhood home, or summers with my family at the beach.  I'll never feel the way I did in that place, in those moments, just as I will never feel the way I did when I fell in love with these artists, these albums.  The music takes me back, though, for just a moment. I can sing out loud with the same abandon I did when I listened in my first car, in my first apartment... feel the pain of heartbreak and the thrill of moving away from home.

Now that I'm aware of my listening disability, perhaps I'll go back to the way I did once upon a time.  Maybe I'll hang on desperately to the compact disc like so many have to vinyl records and cassette tapes.  Who knows, maybe the next few years will bring new sounds, new relationships, new memories into my top ten. I'm bonding strongly right now with The Rescues, The Civil Wars, and Mumford & Sons, so who knows?

Indeed, I love my iPod.  I love the listening diversity it's brought to long drives and my sing-at-the-top-of-my-lungs mood.  I revel in the ease with which I can carry it into class, on vacation, into the doctor's office.

But the compact disc is why I fell flat-on-my-face in love with my first albums.  Thanks to the compact disc, I'm holding on to memories.  Holding a finger through one, two, sometimes six at a time.

* * *

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The Albums I Love

** These albums accompany the post "My Obsession with the Compact Disc." Be sure to check it out!

Emily's Top Ten Albums | (Highlighted titles denote a Top Five)

Michelle Branch - Hotel Paper

Fell in love with her while living in Jacksonville, Florida.  I also love her album Spirit Room.

Deana Carter - Did I Shave My Legs for This

I was 15 years old when a boyfriend gave this to me for Valentine's Day.  That went to crap not long after but the albums's still around.

Kelly Clarkson - Breakaway

Starbucks' coworkers gave me a Target gift card and this is what I bought!

Dashboard Confessional - MTV Unplugged

A friend recommended this band to me at a party, and later that same night finally asked me out.  Lucky for him we married that next year.

Hope Floats

This movie was my favorite for ten or so years, and this soundtrack another love from the days before I could drive.

Live in X Lounge II -- 107.7 The X

My first plunge into alternative music.  It featured greats like "Remedy" by The Black Crowes and "Sunburn" by Fuel.

Thank you for touching my life, 107.7 The X;  you are dearly missed.

Matchbox 20 - Yourself or Someone Like You

The guy who sat in front of me in high school World History told me about this great new band. I would go on to see them three times in concert before I was 25 and have considered them my favorite band for almost half my life.

Alanis Morissette - Jagged Little Pill

Does this even need an explanation? Who hasn't belted out You Oughtta Know at one point or another?

Shinedown - Leave a Whisper

Thank you, Doug Roske, for introducing me to Shinedown and Fall Out Boy before they were cool.  I don't know how many nights I cranked this out in my tiny Florida apartment, screaming along with Brent Smith while I got dressed to go out.

Train - Save Me San Francisco

"Drops of Jupiter" has long been one of my favorite songs, but a month after this album released I won tickets to a concert, got a front-row spot, and touched Pat Monohan's hand.  Say what you want about its overplay -- this album is kickass. 

** Don't forget to read the accompanying post: "My Obsession with the Compact Disc." 

Playground or Prison | An Original Poem

Ladder!  Yellow slide!  Rock wall!  See-saw!
A little girl swings as she laughs!  Higher!  Higher!


Metal fence.
Wood pile.
Storage shed.
Sod.
A father sweats
pushing
a mower.
Around
and around.

Oh, What Pretty Eyes You Have

Ginnifer Goodwin recently changed her hair, but only after permission from the Big Love producers.  To avoid any future scenarios like this, she put a wig clause in her current and all future contracts, allowing her to style her hair any way she wants. "I find it hard to express myself," she says, "when I'm growing out a very bad character haircut."  Geez, who wouldn't? (Click here for the full article)

So this has me wondering, "What attribute expresses me the most?"  Now obviously, I can't see myself signing any contracts to not change my hair.  Let's face it, a girl who's shaved her head isn't too particular.  Fashion doesn't matter, either -- although I might consider finding a way to wear TOMS for the rest of my life.  The truth is, I can't find myself putting anything in writing that deals with my physical appearance.  I'm just a little too adventurous (or maybe I don't care enough).

Returning to attributes, though, my eyes are definitely my most expressive.  From an old boyfriend who called them "aqua eyes" to every other person I meet that says, "oh, what pretty eyes you have," trust me, that's what people notice.  Have always noticed.  Which might be why I haven't always appreciated them -- in fact, one of the things that first attracted me to my husband is that he didn't comment on them.  Maybe it's true for everyone -- the thing you're complimented on the most, often annoys you the most.

But I'll never forget the day I finally embraced my eyes.  I was sitting with my cousin Megan while we waited to have our heads shaved, and she was nervous (heck, I was, too).  She looked at me and said, "Everyone keeps telling me how pretty my eyes will look, and I guess they're right."

She paused, and then caught me completely off guard.

"Because mine look just like yours."

Pretty powerful, coming from a girl who'd turned eleven the day before.  It took her eyes to make me realize how beautiful mine were.  And remembering that moment and that beautiful girl is a lovely reminder to love myself more.

Now with all the eye-color-coordinating shadows and complete aisles filled only with mascaras, fixin' up my eyes is quite fun. And nowadays the, "oh what pretty eyes you have," remark is often followed by, "are those fake eyelashes?"  Which they're not, but thank you CoverGirl Lashblast Volume Blasting Mascara.

Gennifer Goodwin says, "As long as I can wear a wig, I can be any character and in real life I can be myself."

Well, it seems I am forever working to be myself -- but doesn't the saying go, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step."

So I guess this step is labeled 'lovin' my eyes.'

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Worth 1,000 Words: Pretty Maids All in a Row

My, how I love succulents!

Worth 1,000 Words: Roadside Comforts

Two things I've passed on my way to school this week.  (Note to self: make sure there are no stray dogs around before getting out to take photographs on the side of rural country road).

Ode to My Drink | An Original Poem

Social Media Waiting to Inspire Us

The power of a name can draw a pretty big crowd, especially when it applies to social media.  Take James Franco, for example: He signed up for a Twitter account and within twenty-four hours had more than 700,000 followers (I know -- I was one of 'em).

In the age where celebrities are twitterin' away at any given moment, we're somewhat immune to the 'awe' we first felt when we had such a personal connection.  In fact, I've already severed most of my celebrity tweetin' connections (tired of the same ol' talk) and most Facebook pages seem to be the same as web sites -- translation: managed by someone else.

But there's still room for a little star power on the world wide web, and I've recently experienced two finds that sent my heart a'flutterin.'

A few weeks ago I discovered that one of my favorite authors Joshilyn Jackson (Gods in Alabama, Between, Georgia, The Girl Who Stopped Swimming) not only has her web site, but a blog!  As a wanna-be-published writer I find her stories about choosing the cover design (or lack of input) fascinating.  I'm amazed at her stories of normal life, because she truly seems to have a "My kids and I are sick with the flu"-kind of normal life.  When I hear her talk at a writer's conference next month (one I'm attending simply for that reason) I'll have stars in my eyes.

The second find came Friday night while reading the newest book of poems by Alice Walker.  In the back of the book I found the usual blurb about Walker and her life, etc. etc., but it also mentioned her redesigned web site.  So of course I pick up my Mac, type in the address, and have an oh-my-lord-alice-walker-has-a-blog exhilarated squeal, which made my husband look at me in all sorts of strange ways.

But it's Alice Walker.  Alice Walker!  The woman who wrote The Color Purple and who I studied in high school and college English classes.  A Pulitzer Prize winner who my daughter will study, and her children's children, as well.  This incredible woman -- already an icon -- has a blog that reveals a side of herself that we would never glimpse in her books, no matter how introspective.

If you're not impressed, I don't think we can be friends.

So I guess the moral to my story is this:  With all the crap that's beginning to infiltrate our social media bubble, there are always the oh-my-lord-alice-walker-has-a-blog discoveries waiting to inspire us.

p.s. If you've had one already, I'd love to hear about it!