Old Poem: Musical Ekphrasis "Everloving" by Moby

Remember when I used to listen
fifty or more times to his
raspy, off-pitch voice,
and loving every second of it
supposed to be asleep.

If I listen...closely,
I hear rain fall,
bringing back sounds I knew
from a past life.

There is a dance we play
Yes, yes I know it.
Where you twirl me,
and I laugh.

He jumps and octave
taking you away
strings drop me off
back from the dream.

It isn't a surprise
I think he knows me,
We share the same life
All I'm left with.

A 4th Grade Discovery...

When I was in the fourth grade I had a "themed" slumber party. My friends and I each had a character we were supposed to be, and we wrote letters to each other as that character. My character was Sunshine, the hippy.

To: Beth

From: Sunshine (the dot on the "i" was a peace sign)

Dear Beth,

I've been on some really groovy trips this year. We ty-dyed some really groovy shirts to protest the war, man. We all jumped in our VW van and drove across the country to spread peace and joy to the world by selling flowers. At night, we all go to the woods man, and make a big bonfire man! To sing songs and play guitars and tambourines and talk about how to make the world a better place man. After, we burn our draft cards and bras. If only we could Love (with a heart for the "o") everyone the world would be a better place, man!

peace, love, and happiness,

Sunshine.

Sentences, Vol. II "The History of PB&J"

Sentences, Vol II
"The History of PB&J"

1. There is a significant distinction between peanut butter and jelly.

2. My English teacher kindly distinguished between the well known pair.

3. While the dominant of the two would be peanut butter, jelly is the most liked.

4. The discovery of the two substances together was at a college dormitory in Boise, Idaho.

5. To be earnest, it wasn't until 1951 that peanut butter and jelly were classified as an edible.

6. Until then, most bankers used it as a dividend on car loans.

7. Between two pieces of bread, these two foods easily won the hearts of many young parents with talkative children.

8. The ecstasy in knowing that their children would not be able to talk until they gave them a glass of milk made this food popular.

9. Jelly was first discovered in the eighth century A.D. after a bad case of male pattern baldness.

10. The Hungarian nomads believed that if you rubbed jelly all over your head under a full moon it would eliminate hair loss.

11. A depiction of this spiritual ritual was found on an ancient piece of embroidery used as a toilet seat cover.

12. Peanut butter was accidentally discovered during an endeavor to find the truth of life.

13. This enormous mistake turned out to be quite useful.

14. It was necessary equipment for a spartan to quote, "Keep them with their shield."

15. Peanut butter was also considered holy, especially for "staying close to the gods."

16. As an essential part of Spartan culture, the popularity of peanut butter grew.

17. There was an estimation of 100 famous "nuts" in Spartan history.

18. Today, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is a sign of middle-class etiquette.

19. As I stand before you to sit behind you, none of this was an exaggeration.

20. Many college professors use this history as an examination of world culture.

Cause/Effect Essay, 11th Grade

On April 13, 1985*, a receptionist at NASA sneezed on a letter that she was carrying to the AV Department. Finding the letter a little soggy, the recipient left his intern alone, while he went to wash his hands. Overwhelmed at the thought of being alone in NASA's AV Department, the intern pushed a big red button, which caused a plethora of really bad B-movies to be sent out into space. Two aliens out for a joy ride in their spaceship picked up the transmission and were so disgusted at the human race that they blew up the Earth with a slightly ill-tempered toaster oven.

Teachers Comment: Great imagination! (duh...)

*this date is actually my birthday...I liked to put little hints like this in my essays. It kept the boredom level down...

Oh the Memories...

Yesterday I went through a bunch of my old schoolwork, and I thought I'd share some of it with you. I had a habit of making my English and Writing assignments a little more entertaining than they were meant to be. My teachers either loved it, or thought I wasn't taking the assignments seriously. The fact was my English classes were always so easy for me, I had to make up funny things to keep me from losing my mind. So, in the next few days, weeks, or however long I feel like doing this, I'll be posting some of my best work from my K-12 years.

Enjoy...or not.

Example I: What happened when I got angry at my teacher...

How-to Paragraph

How to Make a Hot Dog

Making a hot dog can be very tricky. First, go to the pet store and buy a dog. The type of dog doesn't really matter. Take the dog home and wash it very well. Unclean dogs can cause illness. Then, hit it on the head with a very large hammer. Make a fire and set the dog ontop of it. Cook until a golden brown. Serve in a bun with applesauce on top. The more times you make a hot dog, the easier it will be.

Here's my 9th grade Comp. teacher's comment: "I would expect nothing less than bizarre. You didn't disappoint." lol

That one went up on the refridgerator...

Stupid and the Beanstalk

Why I Quit

At night I decided
I didn't want to know
why people go to work
everyday.

Lying in bed, with only five hours left

While Grama plays Mozart
While Grampa watches the news
and the neighbor decides that
midnight is the perfect time
to send home his sex
and call out to his cat
for five minutes.

Just let the damn cat freeze

I'm in bed not worrying
about my job, but why
the sound of Mandy singing
makes me want to get
up and write.

How can one God-given voice motivate me to heal?

The State of Jessica

Although I think it would be rather cool to have a state named after me, the title of this post is referring to my psychological state. I have learned many things since I have graduated, and most of them suck. First, I have learned that no one really seems to care once you’ve graduated. Ah sure, those of you reading this that know me will say, “But Jessica, I care!” –Really? Do you really care?

When a person is in college, they are supposedly accomplishing something. Describing what this something is, is like Barack Obama trying to define “hope” –he almost gets there, but never quite delivers the verb. Once this mystic “something” is accomplished upon graduation, the accomplisher is now seen as just as miserable and dreamless as the rest of the world.

Thanks. That feels really wonderful.

Honestly, though, I don’t think that the actual “caring” aspect has lessened any, what is really happening is that friends and family members have nothing left to ask you about. Without, “What’s your major?” or “What do you want to be when you grow up?” only two conversation starters exist with someone you don’t care to talk at length with –the weather, and work. Talking about the weather is the psychological equivalent of, “Do I know you?”, and talking about work just gets both parties depressed, so people usually stop talking to graduates. This, in turn, makes the graduate feel less cared for…even though the so-called “caring” was pretty empty to begin with.

The second thing I have learned is that no matter how much money I make, I won’t want to spend any of it. Although this might seem good for my bank account, it really sucks. Sure, I would like to have a new camera, so that I can go and take lots of pictures I can be proud of, and maybe, oh, I dunno, be happy, but when you can get laid off…it closes the pocketbook pretty fast.

This, of course, brings me to my next point…work. I knew work sucked before I graduated…but boy does it suck now. I have learned that no matter how much you like your job, a work environment is everything. This, I feel, is not stressed at all in college. It really would have been nice to know when it is acceptable to quit. I had no idea, “I’d like to offer you this position,” was code for, “I sense your optimism and would like to destroy it.”

As for this blog…my plan is to post one new poem a week, so if you’ve been wondering why they are all pretty crappy, there’s your answer. In my current state, I feel that writing crap is much better than not writing at all.

5

What should I do
when a word freezes
a guitar string breaks
and all my pens are
missing?

It is easy to say

"upgrade" when

a soul isn't involved.

Sometimes I feel
the nausea of contained
creativity -this solitary
art form.

Remember,
a world exists
outside me.

4: Work

I think I’d feel better everyday
if I worked in a funeral home
I’d be a happier person looking at
dead people all day

At least dead people are smart enough
to keep their mouths shut
and if not, you can wire their jaw
and not get fired

Week 3: Do you remember?

Do You Remember?

You should have known me at 16
when Bill O’Reilly read my bedtime story
not Jon Stewart
when I actually believed
in the Bible.

I said if we were both starving
in the woods and you died
I might eat you.
“What about the squirrels?” you screamed.
I didn’t think about it that way.

Week 2: Melodramatic Do-Wop

Melodramatic Do-Wop

As a writer,
hating a word
is an art form
(or a sign of insanity)

Justifying its guilt
takes the talent and
thoughtfulness required
to write a prize-winning paper.
(i.e. the theory of bread)

It isn’t easy to explain
why certain letters, when put together,
can have the same effect as
nuclear winter.
(at least, in the linguistic sense)

Can’t a word be, wrong,
if it can be intelligent,
powerful, or unique?
(of which “unique” isn’t)

A right word,
to many,
isn’t inherently right,
just placed correctly.
(a write word)

Words,
to many,
have no character,
only in context
are they given life.
(those people are idiots)

Words taste,
they make noise,
they can suffocate,
(make you say, oogie-boogie)

Words can be hated,
any real writer
will tell you this.
(the worst word is always in the title…)

Poetry: Week 1

I drive downtown
into my constructed life,
as a fly in my window
sings, “Work Me, Lord."

Lord, let that fly, fly
wherever she wishes.
Her life is short
but not short-lived.

This fly on my window
sings, “I want what I want
not what the world gives me.”
Who am I to let
this red light block her?
Who am I to stop
these drawn out lines
of a few soulful words?

So sing fly.
Sing as loud
and as colorful
and as piercing
as you feel.

If I listen to your song
I might hear your freedom
and decide to live a life,
not have a destination.

What I Do When I'm Sick

I've been sick for most of this week, and I decided today that I was going to get up and do something. For about three hours I went though my bookcases and re-discovered a lot of my old writing.

In one of my notebooks, I found a list of questions I had written down when I was thinking about going to graduate school. I don't know if I was actually going to ask someone these or not, but judging by the sarcasm, I believe they were intended for my eyes only:

1. Why did you decided to get a M.F.A? Why not just write?
2. How many schools did you apply to? Was it hard to get in?
3. How can you teach really bad and annoying writers and not go crazy?

Most of my notebooks are filled with lines of poetry or prose I thought up amid lecture notes. I feel that I can safely admit this now that I have graduated.

Here are a few examples:

"If you say you're a writer, people think you only write poetry."

"Love waits for creation on paper -my reason to write"

"Write something insightful"

"I don't need enlightenment...I need a nap."

"I quieter I try to make my mind, the more I just want to fall asleep."

The one thing I found out today was just how much writing was apart of my life even when I wasn't working on a project. Even in my Biology notebook I've found lines scattered throughout notes about cell division. I think I did some of my best work when I was supposed to be doing something else.

Last Day of Class

It's Wednesday, it's seven o'clock, and in one hour, I will begin my last class...ever. I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to feel right now; sadness? joy? All I feel is tired. In a few days I might feel something, but then again I might not. Life is strange like that sometimes. Big events, like finishing school can often seem much more momentous when thought about, and then a huge let down when it actually happens. Likewise, a simple act of kindness, or finding an odd object that reminds you of someone can become a pivotal, life-changing moment. So, will today be mundane or pivotal? I suppose, for the most part, it's up to me.

Miracle on S. Main St.

A few weeks ago, my friend Daniela and I started work on a short film about Goshen College's ducks. Every year a mother duck has flown into the courtyard of the Newcomer building, laid her eggs, and when she and her ducklings are ready to leave, professors, staff and students help her out of the building, across a busy highway, and down toward the Mill Race. Daniela and I had planned to record this year's crossing, and make a nice YouTube video, but unfortunately, this year was a bit more dramatic. The mother duck didn't wait by the side of the road for us to stop traffic, and instead walked out in front of a semi. Somehow, she and all of her ducklings survived. Our film tells this story. We didn't have any footage of the actual accident, so it gave us an opportunity to add a bit of humor with a simple, badly produced Flash animation.

Poetry Podcast: The Jelly Sandwich

The Jelly Sandwich

"It was the purple blob
of our discontent," I said
with the jelly jar up in the air
lost in my dramatic aside

when my brother interrupted yelling, "Stop!
I'm kinda hungry here, so feed me instead
of acting like a fool and being weird.
You know how to make a jelly sandwich, right?"

"I sure do!" said I, getting out the white porous
sponges that once resembled real bread
in a former life before the baby boom
and taking a knife, began to smear

With both sides a nice color of luminous
loyalty, I handed it off, "there it's dead."
I said. He didn't listen, but zoomed
away like a drunk with his beer.

Ahh...Future

Mom, Dad, and me
Originally uploaded by jessica.niome.

If you know someone that is graduating from college let me give you one piece of advice: never ask them what their plans are. Not only is that question inherently mean, but you'll be about the 50th person who has asked it.

Yes, asking a graduate what they want to do is mean. It's torture, and everyone that asks knows it is...that's why they ask. When I was at my open house, people would start the question off with an apology, like it was supposed to make what they were going to say next sound better.

I graduated on April 29, and I believe that I have finally received my last graduation card. Right now I've got about sixty thank you notes to write. I decided that I should actually write out each thank you note partly because I've heard it's more polite, but also because I'm a writer and I feel it would be a bit wrong to let Hallmark say something I'm supposed to be able to say myself.

During the whole graduation, post-graduation, and open-house exhaustion I've only had about three meltdowns: two of which happened the day I graduated. The third, which I feel to be the most significant, happened about two days after my open house. That was the day I decided I needed to hide all the graduation cards, and live like the whole event didn't happen. The checks and money, however, I have had no problem allocating properly.

I feel now I'm mostly over the shock of graduation, and have dug out my cards and started to look through them again. Most are the normal, "Congratulations, good luck in whatever you do" cards from people that don't really know me, but there were a few from people who understood what I was going through. Those never were hidden away. Instead I read these cards at least once a day last week, and in many ways they helped me cope. One of these very important cards was from my dad's best friend, JR. Right before I graduated he sent me a card and wrote so much inside that he filed up the inside and back. The only thing he talked about was my "future", and when he believed it started. It was completely ridiculous, and I loved every word of it.

"I think it's best," he wrote, "if someone asks about your future just try and change the subject, or look off in the distance and with a meaningful sigh say, 'future' and shake your head. If they give you a smile and a nod, they understand what you are going through. If they say, 'No, really, what will you do?' just talk about cats: everyone has had one, or knows someone who has." I didn't actually do those things during my open house when my family and friends were asking about my future, but I remembered his humor every time I had to answer that question.

Most people ask college graduates about their future, because they want to see if the graduate's childhood dreams of being a doctor, singer, or in my case, a writer have finally dried up and turned into the dull, depressing, underachievement of the person asking. They hope that in some small way the disappointment of the graduate will lessen the disappointment they feel. Maybe, in reality, I do know my future...but it's not the world's business, and the people I'd like to know about it don't feel the need to ask. That's the way it should be when someone you love graduates. A friend or family member that truly loves a graduate doesn't need to ask about their future; because they already know whatever it is will be spectacular.