About the Poem 'Oh' but Really Mostly Ramblings

 It's 4:25 am, dear reader, so if at any point you think 'wow this is grammatically incorrect, the words seemed to have been spelt by an eight year old who hasn't seen the word before, and is trying really hard to guess it so he doesn't fail the dictation test or that analogy was too long, strangely specific and not that funny' tell yourself, this is the sleep deprived ramblings of a woman that cannot really write when she's had ten whole hours of sleep and three healthy meals. What did you expect? Anyway, this is the glory of the blog. You can write like no one is reading, because really no one is. 

I do not know if you have been keeping up with the news, or you're one of those French people that went to live in a cave, but we're still currently living through what all those nice corporations are calling 'challenging times.' And the times have challenged no one more than the 12th grade Indian student, who has lived the entirety of her school life awaiting with bating breath the exams that will end all exams. Which should have happened four months ago. And now will happen... never? Possibly? And really, who the hell cares? When you have started writing condolences messages instead of sample papers, the jig seems to well and truly up. Test, exams, colleges, jobs, races, don't matter. It's the whole thing of living and breathing, and making sure everyone you love is living and breathing too, that the game is truly about. Is that gloomy? I can't tell, and remember 4:47 am in the middle of a PANDEMIC. I can't be going on about the joys of romance novels, or how the music video of 'Last Night Story' by IU is absolute perfection. This is the time for self-reflection, insomnia and trying to figure out why exactly you're anxious. 

I've not been writing a lot, so I am sorry to say that even this very inconsistent blog is pretty up to date as far as poetry is concerned. Actually I have been writing, but it's all pretty shit, and I have not really decided what to blame my current abandonment by the muse on. I'll do an 'About the Poem' of an old poem, and bask in the glory of a few months ago when I wrote a poem, and actually liked it. And the poem is..... OH!

Yes, not the best of names. I might have many talents, (staying up the entire night, writing bad blogs, embroidery etc etc) but naming things is clearly not one of them. I actually do not have any firm memories about this poem at all. I don't even think I have edited it properly yet. But it remains, due to lack of any current contenders, one of the favourite poems I have ever written. Sometimes I read my poetry, and cannot recognize myself in them, but this is the truest mirror I could make yet. The reflection of  a girl, at once eager and apathetic, confused and completely certain. Not grand proclamations, no vicious remembrances. Just a silly girl, confused about who she wants to be. 

5:16 am. I forget how lovely prose is sometimes, and how lovely it is to write a blog. It was an enjoyable enough experience that I have an urge to thank someone. Thank you laptop. Thank you morning. Thank you blog. Thank you, you.

Good morning. 

And you know what, it is. It might have been an anxious, horrible night, but it's a rather good morning now.