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The Forgotten Letter

The Forgotten Letter

A letter long forgotten

tucked away,

treasure bound.

No beauty in the meaning

or intent of the words within

other than the clean script.

How I loved your letters,

the care of your crafting,

the artistry you shared.

They would brighten

the gloomiest of Junes

and dullest silver.

Yet this forgotten letter,

so long out of sight and mind,

uncorked bottled rage.

You were my sun,

my foundation, my friend,

my confidante.

Ours was a relationship

of openness, trust,

and understanding.

That letter.

That last of all letters,

tore it all asunder.

Back then, I pushed it aside

out of hurt and denial.

You demanded a clean break;

no calls,

no visits.

You could not love her, be with her

when you still loved me,

longed for me.

Months later

you stood at my door,

no warning, no apologies.

I pushed the pain

to the deepest crevices of my mind.

I have no memory

of anger or reproof

upon seeing you.

Just joy.

We talked for hours

with your friends

tagging along on our walk.

I knew your purpose

before I dragged it out of you.

Loneliness is

a powerful feeling.

I do not know why

I did not question your logic

of breaking off our friendship

when you clearly wanted me.

I have been angry at you

since unearthing the letter.

Wanting to find you.

To rail at you

as I should have

sixteen years ago.

Wanting to know

what turn my life may have taken

if I allowed you back.

Realizing after all this time

I never understood

your reason to choose her

when it was me.

It was always me.

© 2006, Debi Smith

I wrote this in a fit of madness on a red-eye from L.A. to Louisville.  A song playing on the radio as my best friend and her husband drove me to the airport triggered the memories and in order to deal with the sudden anger I had to write.  I wrote the poem and letter to a friend that is unsent.  I still have it in the notebook right after my scratchings of this poem.

I came across the stack of letters just weeks before the trip to L.A. to help my best friend with wedding preparations. They were tucked away in a box of other high school memories and letters.  So why keep such a bitter memory?  Why not throw them all out?  Because as I re-read them I was smiling and remembering him fondly. Until that last letter.  It was an unconventional relationship born out of friendship first.  The letters were how we shared our days with each other before the days of cell phones, text messages, and the internet.  We remained friends even after we both decided to end the romantic part of our relationship.  It was the loss of the friendship that cut me most because he ended it at a time when I was struggling to make it through each waking moment.

I’ve read that letter again since then. I no longer feel all that anger.  Just sadness of the loss and what could have been.  We were dreamers and perhaps dreamers were never meant to dream together…

Could you throw away such beautiful artwork?

 
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Posted by on July 13, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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Dismal

 

College graduation dinner after the ceremony at Yum Yum Tree

 

Writers tend to convey their mood in their writing whether they mean to or not.  Most of the time I don’t mean to.  At the same time, I do.  Writing is a form of therapy for me.  It’s how I deal with things without killing anyone.  Prison orange isn’t for me.

I dealt with a lot during my college years and at the same time, I was playing with poetry a lot.

One day I set out to write a poem using a lot of D words.  No, not THE D word.  Just words starting with the letter D.  I might cuss in a moment of stress or frustration, but I honestly feel that using non-expletives is a better way to express yourself.

I thought this would be a good poem to share with you for D.  Reading through it, I realized just how dismal I really was at the time I wrote it.  Just know that when I set out to write this, my intention wasn’t to be so dark.  It was just to use as many D words as I could.  Apparently all the D words I thought of were dreary.

Dismal

Drop after drop

one by one

into the abyss.

-How do they return?

 

Day after day,

minute by minute

they hunt and hunt.

-When does it end?

 

Deep and dark

is the home

they are sent to.

 

Deprived and depressed

is the mind they taunt

relentlessly to madness.

 

Doomed are the docile,

the weak and meek,

when left to their own device.

 

Dreary thoughts

drown out the

rest of the world.

 

Dissonance rings

in dour ears

as they drown a dream.

 

Defeat is to be

expected by

their divided hands.

© Debi Smith, 1993

 
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Posted by on April 5, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Creativity

 

Just one of my jewelry creations

 

I am creative by nature.  I’ve always liked making things.  In 6th grade, I was teased because I would bring my craft projects to school to work on during the time our teacher would read to us.  He let us do what we wanted at our desks during that time as long as we were quiet.  My classmates were aghast that I would prefer to be crafty than play a video game.  Then again, all my classmates but two bullied me that entire school year.

I love being around other creative types.  Stick and I feed off of each other’s creativity.  We can take an idea one has to the next level, and sometimes even to one or more other levels.

I always have some project I’m working on, or some project I wish I was working on.  I love to do needlepoint and cross-stitch, even if I haven’t taken the time to come up with my own designs.  One of my college friends and former roommates taught me to cross-stitch. I can work on it for hours on end. There were many nights I stayed up all night working on a project because I lost track of time.  It’s why I generally try to have the TV on instead of music at times when I’m working on projects.  Music, I lose total track of time.  The TV at least gives me some sense of awareness of how much time has passed between shows or movies.  I never kept any of my cross-stitch projects.  They were always given away as presents.  I think my favorite one is of a kimono I did for Granny and Papa to go on the scrapbook I did for them.  The scrapbook that was confiscated by a certain family member after Papa passed away.  I have not seen it since even though she said she only took it to “scan it in.”  That was 6 1/2 years ago.  *sighs*

The day before Granny passed, Stick came down to spend some time with me and get my mind off of things.  She brought all her jewelry making supplies with her and we spent some time making jewelry, after she taught me the basics.  I was a jewelry making fiend after that.  One year, I made jewelry sets with birthstones for all my aunties, female cousins, Stick, Stick’s mom, and a few female friends.  The set pictured above (which also included a bracelet) was a present for my cousin-in-law for her wedding shower.  She wound up wearing the necklace and earrings to her wedding.  Let’s just say I was over the moon when I saw it on her as it was a great understated compliment to her dress.  Not too flashy.  Not too simple.

 

One of the pages I did for Grandma's scrapbook on the first anniversary of Grandpa's passing.

 

Scrapbooking is probably one of my oldest hobbies.  Since I was a kid I’d put together scrapbooks of pictures with ticket stubs, boarding passes, etc.  This was way before scrapbooking became big business and you had all kinds of papers, cardstocks, and embellishments.  I don’t know where all of those scrapbooks are now.  Probably in my parent’s attic.  Or in some landfill.  Who knows.  I didn’t take them with me when I moved out because they were in the attic.

Anyway.  Stick helped me make the transition from physical scrapbooking to digital.  With all the stuff available, it can be so easy for the computer challenged to do.  Again, I make a lot of scrapbooks to give away as presents.  This page pictured was one of the pages I made for my Grandma.  In our culture, the 1 year anniversary of a loved one’s passing is important.  Since I could not fly home for it, I put together a scrapbook from when we were all home for Grandpa’s funeral.  This was one of the first pages where I really created (with a little help from Adobe Elements) a background paper.  I did another one where I textured the paper I made.  Pretty cool stuff.  I’m still learning what I can do with Elements since I don’t get to play with it much.  I’m still trying to get through all the physical pictures and products I have to clear some space.

 

Raw Peppermint Mocha Truffle Cake

 

Cooking is another avenue for creativity for me.  I learned how to cook while I was still young and took over the majority of the cooking in my home when I was in Jr. High.  Once I got comfortable with food, I started playing around.  Let’s throw this in with that, a little of this, then some of that.  Yeah.  I play with my food.  Once I use a recipe a time or two, I start doing my own spin on things.  Papa made a great chili, but he only made it once a year on New Years.  He shared the recipe with no one.  Finally, when I was in college and living on my own in a studio apartment, he broke down and gave me the recipe.  Of course this didn’t sit well with other family members and he had to end up sharing it with them, too.  But he gave it to me first!  I am the #1 grandchild after all.  Anyway, I made it his way a few times, then took off with it.  I have my own chili recipe inspired by Papa.  Pictured is the raw cake that I was challenged by some gluten-free blogger friends to make after we were commented on Facebook about gluten-free cake.  I figured the raw cake was appropriate since it has chocolate, raw cacao to be exact, and it transports me into a chocolate wasteland.

Writing is a major avenue of creativity for me.  I could be happy doing nothing but writing all day, even if it was something that never got published or was just an exercise.  So, what you read on my blogs is part of what I love.  I’ve been writing poetry for as long as I can remember.  One of my favorite poems from grade school was about a fictional rabbit.  I named it Merrit.  hehe  I have dozens of short stories and a couple of books I’ve started but haven’t quite finished.  I’ll share some poems and stuff on here later on.  I do an exercise with Silly Sissy that we call Sketch-2-Sketch on her studio blog.  I write a character sketch and post it.  She then sketches based on my description and posts it.  She’s overly critical of her work, but she does an amazing job with taking my description and sketching it out.  Silly Sissy has tried to get me into freelance writing after I did some copy for a website she did last Summer.  I could jump in with both feet and do it if I wanted to.  I’m not sure I’d get the same joy from it.  There is a difference between writing because you have to meet a deadline and writing because you derive immense pleasure from it.  Some people are fortunate enough to be able to mix the two and enjoy it.  Me, well, it’s too much like having to turn in a college paper.  It was pretty cool to see my copy on a website though.

There are other things I’ve toyed with like fashion design and interior design.  I made my own curtains, shams, bedskirt, and duvet cover over 10 years ago because I just couldn’t find anything to go with the theme in our bedroom.  For a while, I was a Trading Spaces junkie.  You couldn’t talk to me while it was on, unless Heidi was putting hay on a wall.  You especially couldn’t talk to me if Vern was on.  His designs were the inspiration for design of our bedroom.  I have put together collages on canvas for art work.  It’s a great way to display a lot of pictures without spending a lot of money on picture frames.

I have never considered myself an artist.  I just mess around really.  Before I was 10, I took some painting lessons.  My teacher didn’t like that I added to the oil painting and she had to “fix it.”  I thought it looked just fine.  I think she forgot to do some happy clouds on her own canvas.  I never cared for the drawing lessons in grade school.  All those rules in art.  I think that’s why I never took an art class.  I don’t play by the rules.  I just put down what I feel on paper.  Much like I do in all my other creative endeavors.  In college, I really started to toy with sketching on my own.  I just put pencil to paper and let it flow.  I even took a few pictures of myself and friends in an attempt to draw people.  I think I did a fairly decent job.

Bottom line, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m happiest when I’m creating.

 
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Posted by on April 4, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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