Posted on September 21, 2019
Headache Weekend (and a head-related poem)
My almost-a-migraine experience is happening again today. It’s one that Doug and I have noticed mostly occurs weekends, and often during those for which I’ve made no specific plans, but for which I have many expectations. Sometimes I will think to myself, “I must clean my house!”, or “I need to help Jo organize her room!” or “I have to prep for a meeting!” or “What am I going to do about finding my calling and having some kind of lucrative and soul-enriching career!?” And then, the headache comes, causing my thoughts to transform into, “I can’t think with this kind of pain, so I might as well watch TV,” or “I don’t want to throw up,” or simply, “Ow.”
Fortunately, there are medicines in the world, and I took one of them about half an hour ago. It must be kicking in, because my shoulder/neck/behind-the-left-eye pain has dissipated to the point where it’s hardly there now. What a difference! I’ve gone from feeling nauseous and achey and lethargic to actually feeling like maybe doing something. Though I also feel like taking a nap.
These headaches might be caused by stress, menstruation, a general need to take it easy – but it could be that last night’s dinner of pizza and cheesy bread contributed, too.
On to the topic of writing: my Mom requested that I put this poem on my website, and I thought that I had, but I hadn’t. So here it is.
Rita Hayworth’s Forehead
A little background to help understand the poem:
Rita Hayworth began her life with the name Margarita Carmen Cansino. Her Spanish father and Irish mother were both dancers, and she grew up dancing, too. Not too many people know that Rita’s hair was naturally black, and that her hairline was originally much lower than the one we are used to seeing on her in movies. The Hollywood machine at that time required that she make herself look more “white”.
When I first saw pictures of Margarita Cansino, I had no idea why they had come up, since I had googled “Rita Hayworth”. The transformation is significant. And it made me sad that her original form of beauty was not acceptable for successful movie-making – at least not enough for her to be a star. She obviously had the talent and the acting skills and the drive to be a leading actress. But Hollywood’s and greater society’s prejudices would not allow her to get there without changing her appearance.
I had known that I wanted to write something entitled “Rita Hayworth’s Forehead” for years, but nothing congealed in my mind until I heard an author promoting her Rita Hayworth biography on NPR. The information in that interview gave me what I needed, and Rita’s eponymous forehead poem was born.
Posted on September 19, 2019
Gibberish is fun!
I wrote two poems and one song/poem yesterday in language chosen specifically for the fun sound patterns they make.
When I read these poems to my younger daughter, who famously dislikes most of my poetry, she said, “Mom. The reason Jabberwocky works is because some of the words make sense!” I knew she wouldn’t like it. I told her she is my best audience because she’s my worst audience. If I can handle her reaction to my poetry, I can handle any critique.
Seriously, these poems make me happy to read, sing, say out loud, and think about. Please find them in the Poetry section. They are titled:
Posted on September 2, 2019
Restful Weekend Labor
Yesterday I didn’t feel well. I went for a walk with hubby & daughter, and couldn’t make it all the way back up the hill to the car. My head was throbbing, nausea creeping over me, and my heart was pounding and my breathing heavy, just from walking up a set of stairs. The two of them left me to sit on the top step while they walked ahead and then picked me up with the car.
So I took it easy yesterday, despite having some pre-guest house cleanup to do. I would do a little work, rest, work, then rest again. I would fold clothes, for example, until my neck/head started hurting and I felt dizzy. Then I would sit down and play sudoku or candy crush on the computer.
I also watched the rest of the Joyce Carol Oates Master Class I’ve been going through. I’ve only done a couple of her suggested writing exercises, and I’m wondering about posting one of them here.
The exercise in question is “burn through a scene”, giving oneself 45 minutes to write a scene, preferably one with 4 characters or fewer, “in one single location over a unified period of time”.
I wrote about my 20 year class reunion, in particular one point during which I tried to join in a conversation with 3 other classmates and felt completely shut out. It’s still in it’s first draft, so maybe I’ll work on it a little before putting it up here.
In the meantime, I will post a poem that I wrote in the car on the way to work a couple of weeks ago. It actually started out as a song, which is sometimes the case with my car-written poems. I’m not sure why I’m compelled to sing-write poem-songs. The words sometimes suggest a melody, I guess, and the tune helps me remember the words. Then when I’ve made it to work, before I go inside, I write the poem in my journal, singing it to recall the words.
By the time I’m off work, I’ve completely forgotten the tune, and looking at the words in my journal does nothing to bring it back. So I’ve started recording these mini songs on my phone. It’s a lovely little surprise when I play it back. (Though I would not call them good songs. Just entertaining, I guess.)
I’ve recorded three of these little songs on my phone so far. One has the line, “I’ve got eyeballs”. Another, very incomplete, contains the chorus “You’ve got it all”. The one I will post right now under Poems starts out, “How will you be with the water?”