As one who always seems to come late to the party, I have only just now truly discovered how large the blogging universe is. Maybe I just didn't care before, but it is stunning to find out that blogs are so much more than celebrity gossip or a way to keep track of my friend Nick. One article on parenting leads to a blog which leads to 25 other blogs and on and on and on. I read myself dizzy this morning, part enthralled and grateful to find so much out there and part jealous that so many other people seem to "get" this whole mothering thing so much more than I do.
And when I came back to it this afternoon, I stumbled across the blog of a poet I knew in graduate school, which lead to another poet I knew and eventually a whole bunch of poets I knew, know or don't know it all. It doesn't matter, the jist of it all is that I realized whith a gulp and a sigh that I have let a whole part of me slip almost completely away. The defensive side of me says who the fuck cares? A lot of what I uncovered was the kind of academic masterbation that made me flee academia in the first place. But I also found poems and thoughts and ideas and...and...and I realized that I, too, used to think. I used to read poetry and devour it. I used to know the names of most poets writing and publishing and I used to have opinions on difficult poetry, confessional poetry, MY poetry.
It would be easy to say it is all gone--like my muscles that are slowly dissolving as I celebrate 9+ weeks away from the gym. That would be a lie. It is there, the abilty to engage with that world again, but I feel such strong resistence and don't know where it comes from. I can't help but think I'm not as smart or as talented as my peers from grad. school, that they would laugh to see what my life has become since I so defiantly turned away from them and the goals we were all setting as writers. I fled because I thought I knew a better way--and now they are still there, thinking and writing and living, and I am in such a different place. It's not a bad place--being a mother has brought me back to intellect in so many ways. It has made me question and wonder and think and look for different perspectives. It has made me search and seek and, most of all, want to write and communicate. But it ain't poetry.
So, yes. I used to be smart about some things. I used to write poetry and think about it every second. I couldn't have an interaction that didn't start to fit itself into a poem as I processed--a toll booth collector, my students, a trip to the grocery store. Is that smart or am I talking about creativity? And what is the difference between that and this new urge to record, to translate these experiences I have as a mom? For one, when I was a poet I knew things, I thought I had answers for everything. I wrote from a place of knowledge and had theories, ideas. Now I write from ignorance, confusion, a desire just to get the details down. I have no confidence (now that I think about it, I haven't had much confidence since I left the sheltered world of academia) in this new role, and so I blog. I don't even really know why.
If there's one thing I know, though, it's that I used to be smart. I swear.
1 comment:
I still think you're smart! I think that these blog entries are terrific and that it's entirely possible that the reason you were writing instead of looking at daycare providers is that some power in the world is opening up a possibility for you, now that you have the baby in your life and have a new real reason to reconsider whether you want to go back to your job. Maybe now you're supposed to be a poet-mother? Read Elizabeth Barrett Browning! :) You could call Clementine Pen. Hee hee.
And you know, if you ever wanted to do a poetry reading at a college, I could try to hook that up for you. We can always use more poets reading here to our avid poetry-writing kids. You could even bring the baby. I have a sofabed. We're not so far away.
(I don't mean to be creepy--just in case you don't know who I am already, I figured I should say that. I'll get your e-mail address from Nick and send you a non-blog message.)
Post a Comment