Everything you have been waiting for...and possibly less

So, here it is. Blog #200. I have to say, I thought there would be more fanfare than this...maybe trumpets playing, a montage of me alternately writing and reading my posts, Martinellis and a large cheer when I pressed the "Publish Post" button. Sadly, there are none of those things. Only a dark kitchen and a sick roommate on the couch....hooray!!

Also, please don't think that because I waited so long to write it, that is going to be a mind-blowing post. Sorry, you just get par for the course today.

So, now that this post is starting to feel like a viewing of "Wolverine" (Ummm, is the story ever going to start?), I will get to the point. I spent about 2 hours the other night reading over my blog from the beginning. It was a disturbing, eye-opening, funny, heart-breaking and banal journey that has brought me to right here in 2009. I realized a few things:

1. I sure love a good list
2. While working at Chapters, I loved a good rant
3. I sure wrote a lot more before Facebook
4. I think I used to be funnier
5. While trying to be cryptic to other readers, I am now pretty confused about some of the things I have written about.
6. I do some seriously stupid/questionable things.

To illustrate the last point, and to celebrate a return to Poetry Day, here is something I wrote last night. It comes after I read a line in a book that I may have had a run in with last year. Didn't work out so well then...and...still pretty sad. However, I hope you enjoy.


A brief moment of understanding E.D.

I once told you these words:
"You are the man
I have always wanted to meet".
Actually, to be honest,
I wrote you the words-
I just couldn't form them
with my mouth.

In the most cliche of all confessions
they wouldn't shape around my teeth.
Only parched
in my desert of a throat.

They did, however,
fairly sing from my fingers
and fly
to press precariously on the page.
Then with one unbelievable leap
(arms wide, eyes shut)
I sent them careening to you.
Settled in.

And you?
(the story suddenly swoops
your way)
You said nothing-
wrote no response
to my most fragile
and feathered offering.

And hope?
Well,
it's perching still-
with dark eyes
that glitter on my bruised soul.