Finals are next week. I'm not worried about them -- I'm on schedule for
the projects I have due and I've accepted the things that I cannot
change. Since the end of the semester is coming up, I've found myself
reflecting on the last few weeks and the things I've learned about
myself.
I think it's safe to say that this semester I found a part of myself that I thought I had lost forever. It's exhilarating and intimidating at the same time, and I have decided to dive into those
feelings. At this point I'm just musing on things that no one else could
possibly know, so let me explain.
At 16 (11 years ago) I tried my hand at poetry for the first time. At 17 I mustered
up the courage to show my poetry to some close friends in the poetry
club at my high school. Not too long afterward, though, I stopped
writing poetry completely. It wasn't until I'd been out of the navy for
three years that I tried poetry again, but when that time finally came I
soaked it in as much as I could.
Now I'm here, ready to print off my first poetry portfolio for submission and I find myself wanting nothing but to read, hear, write poetry. And because I want more poetry
in my life, I want more Lawrence Ferlinghetti in my life, because he is
my favorite poet. Which brings me to the point of this reflection.
In 2011, I was in San Francisco for my birthday. I wanted to learn more
about the Beat scene, get a better idea of what they were ultimately
about. There's a museum. It's literally called The Beat Museum. If
you're interested and ever in the city, I'd say it's worth it to check
it out. Afterward, I went to City Lights Booksellers and Publishing,
which was founded by Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Peter D. Martin in 1953.
It was amazing. I made my parents wait two hours while I tried to take
it all in. I didn't have a whole lot of money, but I was able to get a
small book of Beat poetry and a post card of Ferlinghetti's "Pity the
Nation". The man that rang me up was very quiet the whole time. Older.
Probably sick of punks like me who read On the Road once and think they've learned something about world.
It didn't hit me until.. yesterday, after I'd read "I Am Waiting" for my
poetry class, when my professor was telling us about her experience
visiting City Lights... Is it possible that the man at the cash register
that day was Lawrence Ferlinghetti? And all I did was give him my
money, take my things, and thank him? I've been thinking about this
since yesterday afternoon. It's the driving force behind my current
feelings now that finals are just around the corner.
I want to go back to San Francisco. Soon. Part of me is certain that I'll find something I'm looking for if I go there.
The point of all of this, I guess, is to tell you to keep dreaming. Have a
bucket full of dreams waiting for you, and make sure you take the time
to see some of them come true. They are the reward for all of your hard
work and determination, as long as you remember to claim them.
Stay motivated, all. Good luck with finals.
