School has started once again, and this semester I am taking a chemistry class and a creative writing class. Odd combination, huh? Chemistry is at campus and the writing class in online, which seems fitting. I've also had to shift my working hours to a split second shift time, except for a 10 hour day on Tuesdays that will start at 7am and go till 5:30pm. But that's not the point of this posting. Actually, I'm not really sure what the point of this posting is, I just felt like writing something.
We are starting out with poetry in creative writing, something I'm not good at, and have never been comfortable with reading or writing. I know a few things about myself, and one of them is that I like to deal with absolutes. Yes, I know nothing is absolute in life, and I suppose that is where poetry gets its foot in the door and takes hold. And, as with anything else, the variety of poems and poetry out there is a varied as life itself. But, they all have one thing in common. Using words in a way they, the words, may never have been intended to be used. And that's where my discomfiture comes with reading and trying to understand what's in front of me. I love writing essays. Same with actual experiences. I really enjoyed writing my papers in my ENG 102 class mainly because they drew on an actual experience that was the subject of the paper. Am I saying I have no creativity and can't come up with a story or poem? No, but it won't be anywhere near what I want to write.
Several years ago, my work needed to go through a "getting in touch" moment so that we could understand our fellow coworkers better. A nice way of saying that we were fighting so badly with one another that management had to do something about it before someone filed a complaint with HR. There were MANY reasons why we didn't get along, some valid, some not...but the main part of the kumbyeya moment was that we were divided up into the following groups based on our own understanding of ourselves. Machine gun thinkers, dreamers, list makers, and story tellers. My work had roughly 45 people in it at the time and I was the only story teller. Not "lie-like-a-rug" story teller, but someone who "collects" stories, life experiences, anecdotes, trivia, etc from other people and myself and then uses that information when it is needed.
The majority of the group were machine gun thinkers, the ones who made a decision based on clear, concise facts presented in a machine gun manner and didn't want to hear or consider the detrius of non-facts. No background stories for them. They also find the three other groups sometimes intolerable to listen to. Which, right there, explains why the dept was having the problems it had. There were a few dreamers who were the poets of the group, and the rest were list makers, which is a fairly obvious personality trait. Even though the day long event failed to make us a better department, it was something that made such an impact on me that it really did adjust the way I deal with my coworkers, and eventually any person I meet. My husband is a machine gun thinker and I can tell when I've moved past the "I'm telling him what he needs to hear" moment and into the "He'll listen and look like he's paying attention but is thinking about something else" moment. He also has the remarkable ability to repeat back to me what I've just said so in some ways he is listening, but not like I would like him to listen sometimes. But he will tell anyone that it's dead-on I'm a story teller. That I'm most comfortable with dealing with an actual event than trying to come up with something that's abstract or non-existent.
So, I guess what I need to do, is write poetry that deals with absolute experiences. It could be argued that all poetry is based on real life experiences, and I would agree with that, but the way it's written is what is difficult for me. Part of being a story teller is to have the best understanding of what I'm reading and not filling in the blanks myself or creating my own story of someone else's experience. You would think someone who wants a degree in information resources would love any written or spoken word, but for some reason I get irritated at the vagueness of poetry. Maybe that's it. The vagueness of poetry. But, really, couldn't anything be vague enough to make the reader or listener irritated?
When I was a freshman in high school, we had to read Romeo and Juliet and the screen play of West Side Story. The book actually had both printings in it, and chapter by chapter and verse by verse we got through both stories. By far West Side Story was the most popular, the easiest to discuss, and the part of English class that got the class to pay attention. I struggled through Romeo and Juliet, but flew through West Side Story. Shakespeare, arguably regarded as THE greatest writer of humankind, was no match for interest from a 9th grade English class. However, throw in some snappy songs, easily readable text, gangs, guns, and choreography and the class gets it. And, not only gets it, but was eager for more. Why?
Maybe I will be able to answer that question after this semester. Maybe after being forced to write and read poetry, I will gain a better understanding of it and will be able to add that to my collection of stories. Or maybe being forced to once again read and write it will continue the distaste I developed in 9th grade and never got over. Maybe because I know in my heart I'm not a writer, I will always be a collector of stories and not a creator of them.
