MotherReader

Today is all about waiting. I'm waiting to see if Anna will be used as a photo double for a local film, though it's probably unlikely. I'm waiting to find out if Erin will be cast and/or called back for a local theatre production, which is probably likely. I'm waiting to learn the extensiveness and cost of repairs on my car, which has a continuum of suck factor I don't want to contemplate.

Around me, people are waiting. Friends in their last weeks of pregnancy are fighting with meditation or tearing apart rooms in the struggle with biding their time. Teacher friends are eyeing the last weeks of school. Writers always waiting for a letter, email, or call.

In this mode, I'm realizing that far from its passive nature, waiting has a palpaple energy. With determination and maybe luck, you can lose yourself in distraction. But in stillness, you can feel the force like waves beating a quiet rhythm in your brain.

I talked about my own blogging blahs as a sense of something coming, but maybe it is more an accumulation of waiting that is tiring. Fighting ocean waves is useless. Better to coast on the current or ride in on the tide. It makes sense then that I was reading Adrift: 76 Days Lost at Sea and came on this passage:

An eternity exists between the click of each second. I remind myself that time does not stand still. The seconds will stack up like poker chips. Seconds into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days. Time will pass. In months I will look back on this hell from a comfortable seat in the future... perhaps, if I'm lucky.

Sometimes all we can do is wait and understand that looking back the period of time will seem insignificant. That knowledge may be an easy comfort for small things like a theatre role or car repair, but maybe a lifeline for those struggling with grief or depression. Especially for young people who are not used to waiting for so much as a weather report, it has to be the hardest simple lesson there is: that time will pass. And at the end of that time is something worth waiting for.

Another in the songs as poetry series, Shop Vac by Jonathan Coulton was requested specifically for inclusion by TeenReader. Well, it is a favorite of our family. Suburban angst, yo.

We took the freeway out of town
We found a place to settle down
We bought a driveway and a swingset and a dog
You got your very own bathroom
I got my very own workshop in the basement
We sit around staring at the wall-to-wall
Take field trips to our favorite mall
Waiting for the day
When all the kids grow up and leave us here

So if you need me
I'll be downstairs
With the shop vac
You can call but I probably won't hear you
Because it's loud with the shop vac on
But you'll be OK
Cause you'll be upstairs
With the TV
You can cry and I probably won't hear you
Because it's loud with the shop vac on

Check out the Poetry Friday offerings with our host Ed at Think Kid, Think!.

Thanks to Ms. Yingling everyone who needs their 48 Hour Book Challenge fix will - I repeat, WILL - be accommodated. Along with help from Abby the Librarian, they will bring that weekend of guilt-free reading your way starting on June 7th. Check back in with Ms. Yingling for details, and kudos to her for taking on the challenge behind the challenge of running the challenge. While I delayed in figuring out what to do with this community event, I am glad and grateful that it can continue. Read on, dedicated readers. Read on!

Thanks for all of your comments of support and friendship on My Most Morose Post. I feel ya, my blogging bros. At this point, I intend to post as I have books to share and things to say. But I felt that my slowing down was too obvious to not address in some way, especially in not arousing concern among regular readers. I swear that I am fine.

Lately I'm not often feeling either a rush from writing or a real satisfaction with having written. What I do feel, if I could pinpoint it at all, is a sense of anticipation. That there is something for which I need to prepare. Honestly, with my mom's poor health it could be a bad thing OR with my girls' successes academically and semi-professionally, it could be a good thing. Maybe it's a new direction for my own writing. Or it could be menopause, who knows?

Or there is this analogy. The V formation of migrating geese allows for reduction of wind resistance down the lines, and the birds take turns being in the front, falling back when they get tired. So guys, I'm admitting that I'm tired. But the other benefit of the formation is that allows the group to keep track of every bird, and I know that we do that for each other too. In fact, it's what I love best about our crazy connection of community we call the KidLitosphere. Fly on.

Look, I know I've been phoning it in and I know that you know I've been phoning it in, but what I don't know, really, is why. It's bigger than malaise and smaller than depression. It's not something drawing my interest elsewhere so much as not being interested in much of anything. Seriously, I don't want to do anything. Even reading seems... tiresome. The easiest, best part of my day is just hanging out with the girls hearing about their days at school. A close second is petting my cat for a questionably long time. These are not scenes that lead to grand plans.

With that, I've held off on such honesty here because I didn't know where to go with it. Such sentiments seem to require a statement of some sort. An ending. Or a renewed purpose. Yet I'm not ready to commit to either.

The only decision I've made is not to do the 48 Hour Book Challenge this June. I just... I just don't want to. I'd hoped that the possibility of Book Expo America would wake me up a bit, but I think I'll be skipping that as well.

This sounds melancholy, but it's important to say that while I am struggling with my feelings about blogging and reading and what-to-do-next, I'm happy about other things going on this year. Truly. My daughters have had wonderful successes in theatre, music, and academics. I'm so glad to be working again and within a mile of the school. In my job, I was able to shape the summer reading list for my Fair County, getting some great authors some exposure. Those are good things.

So I'm not sure that there was an essential purpose in writing this, except that I don't like to leave my people hanging - or worse, worrying. Nothing's really wrong, I just don't feel quite right. I'm not sure if in saying this that I'm asking for patience or forgiveness, or maybe just what I've always enjoyed in this community - friendship.

Blog on, friends. Blog on.

Today I planned to share some actual poetry from a book and everything, but I've been set upon by a terrible cold that's sapping my concentration. I started feeling unwell on Tuesday, and am pretty annoyed that the worst of it has been yesterday and today. Last night I was so sick I dreamed I was sick. It was like Inception for the hapless.

So you're getting another song as poetry and another Smash song. The poetry of this one isn't solid - lots of repeats in the song - but the few lines are haunting, especially in the music. Even better is the video of the pop diva with some beautiful ribbon dancing.

Tonight when the bright stars
are burning high over Manhattan,
All washed out in neon
And hidden from view.
But when the power goes out
and you look up from Brooklyn,
Will you reach for me
Reaching out for you...

Sorry about the cut to the show's storyline at 2:24, but if you stick it through you'll see some daring moves. TeenReader has given her endorsement to this as one of the hip songs that I share to illuminate those among you not so blessed with teen music knowledge.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Laura Salas. Stop by there to enjoy the best from around the web.

Road trips always sound like a spectacular adventure, but I know my limits. Specifically, five hours. That is the longest I can spend in a car without going crazy. Yes, I've had to stretch that on occasion, but it wasn't pretty for anyone involved. One traffic-plagued trip back from Virginia Beach, I spent the post-fifth hour pointing out houses that looked like they might provide weary travelers with comfort. (Though I did later discover that I had a high fever which may have been part of it.) In any case, I have to limit my love of road trips to books, and this teen title did the trick.

Reunited
by Hilary Weisman Graham
Simon & Schuster, 2012 review from library copy
At the end of senior year, one girl instigates a road trip with her ex-best friends to see their favorite band reunited for one concert only. Despite their estrangement, they each have a reason to bridge their differences and take to the highway. Alice sees this concert as fate, Tiernan is looking for an escape from her mother, while Summer joins after being dumped by her boyfriend. On the trip, they cautiously reconnect while also avoiding the discussion of why they separated from each other in the first place. The book starts off a little awkwardly – like a pilot of a show introducing the characters in obvious ways. But once the girls hit the road, the book hits its stride. There are plenty of obstacles on the way and lots of character conflict, leading to a fun read. I can't help thinking that it would be a great movie, especially considering that there is a real band, Level3 to use in the flick.

What an awful week it has been. As I write this, police are searching for the second suspect in the Boston bombing. It's hard to get away from the feeling of a world gone wrong.

So today for my song as poetry series, I wanted a piece of escapism where the video is as engaging as the words and music. This song from Smash is part of the "new" musical that they are creating on the show portraying the love of a regular guy and a girl on a path to stardom. The song is amazing, but I'm obsessed with this video because the dancers as obstacles is perfection.

Nothing comes easy when everyone's rushing
The signal's got speed but there's no real connection
I tried reaching out but it was just my reflection
'Til I heard your voice in a dream

So sing to me and I will forgive you
For taking my heart in the suitcase you packed
Sing to me like the lights didn't blind you
Like you blinded me when I heard your voice in a dream


Poetry Friday is hosted today by Irene Latham. Be safe, everyone. Be well.