Crehabit’s Weblog

Yes, I am not ashamed to admit

I am a fan of the pants—the “traveling pants.”

Read the whole series in, what, two weeks?

Laughed, cried, and agonized with The Sisterhood.

The sheer number of times I cried …

There was a time I went for years without crying.

Nowadays, kittens make me weepy.

Crying is progress.

The pants are progress.

I also love Fruits Basket.

Me and tons of pubescent girls.

Why? you ask.

Because they serve up raw emotion,

our ugliest fears and tenuous ties

to the idea of love and happiness,

our totally twisted relationships with our parents.

Our very identities hang in the balance

amidst Prince Yuki fan clubs

and soccer camp.

God, I wish I could write like that.

The human heart laid bare.

Storytelling at its most addicting,

entertaining,

silly,

and honest.

Honesty is progress.

This one was written on my morning commute and is inspired by the rhythm of Jenny’s “Hot Mouth Chew”:

here are the things

i gotta do

i have to do

i always do

there are the things

i wanna do

i long to do

i rarely do

where in the world

do i find the time

to do the two

and still sleep too?

mondays are icky,

sticky with sunday’s sweet residue

they kick of the cycle of sleep overdue

mondays are mean

soaked in caffeine

wish it were friday

so i can go play!

baby games

and baby names

baby showers,

parental powers

I’d rather not possess

I must confess

I’m petrified of parenthood

I’m terrified of what I could

and would potentially do

to a child

the idea’s wild

the responsibility

beyond my ability

to even conceive of

Each week it is my mission

to take myself on an “artist date,”

the purpose of which

is to help me create.

Last week: Destination 99-cent Store.

There were sweet snacks and knick-knacks aplenty,

trinkets and treasures galore!

I got a pencil case featuring the fearless spidy,

Marvel valentine grams with lollipops,

mechanical pencils with eraser tops,

and a chocolate orange

to top off my decadent binge.

This week, with my new Kodak as my date,

who knows what wonders await …

referendums

amendments

mind-boggling mumbo jumbo

propositions

partisan politics

perplex me and puzzle me

i can’t quite figure out

what’s being said beneath

polite barbs

and “imperatives,”

i am the people

and my vote will be counted

so why do i feel like i’m taking a pop quiz,

the results of which might determine a nation’s future

and i am but a poor student

who can recite dry facts,

but can’t quite grasp the core concepts?

Santa Ana Art Walk

first Saturday of the month

Good art. Bad art.

Weird art. Fun art.

It’s ALL art,

and it warms my heart.

creative rehab for the blocked

locked out of art, out of rhyme

“Where to start?”

“I have no time!”

excuse junkies jonesin’ for a reason

any reason not to risk revealing dread results

fear alone at fault

for talents gone untested

stifled skills denied the thrills

of ideas fully explored and expressed

yes, ideas should not explode nor expire

like a livid forest fire,

but frequent use should free the flow

from which fertile ideas grow

so with myself, I’ve made a solemn pact

to let creative rehab render habits out of artful acts

My weblog’s standard issue

default mode goes to show

I have no clue

about web codes

and such.

I don’t know much

’bout making pretty pages.

It took me ages

Just to sign up.

Yup,

I’m a low-tech,

humble fool

who asks you to be cool

and just read my poetry.

Please pity me and see

past my weblog’s oh so unattractive packaging.

Someday, perhaps I’ll learn some skills

and add some frills.

‘Til then, please chill,

and let’s just share a bit

of our infinite ….

imaginations …

Doh!

Silly me. I didn’t see

“Presentation”

and poof!

This dummy’s page

ain’t so crummy anymore.

This cool, green theme

is called “Thirteen.”