Freeing Thoughts

As I enter into my exam period every semester, thoughts start to swirl and get to me. The same can be said, really, of this exam period – but the only difference is that these thoughts have been swirling around all semester, as I deal with anxiety and general growing pains.

I am a person who focuses very much on places; when I enter a place, I often think of its history and who has come before me. This applies both spatially and temporally, and this exam period I think of the ways in which I have come before myself each time before, and how each time I had somehow managed to calm my head.

When I recall where I was, what comes first is this hesitant feeling, where I tell myself to wait a minute. Obediently my mind slows, and I catch a glimpse of something that comes into focus for a second. I see how each branch on the tree above me rustles its fan of leaves; how a slab of cracked concrete juts unevenly from the pavement, looking like a fat grey lip.

I realise then, as I try to hold on to this ‘wait a minute’ feeling, that each observation in this moment is purely me. Originality, insightfulness, things that I could use to do better in my studies, and life itself, as I learn to grow to become more of myself with each day. In these moments that I regain access to this insightfulness, I wonder why it is moments like these that I throw aside in times of pressure. I shrug them off like they are burdens, simply because they are not as concrete as goals and targets.

So tonight for awhile at least, I tried to wait a minute, each minute for about 120 minutes. I took the long way home, and wrote about it. I’m posting it below, relatively uncrafted. I like the way that it doesn’t quite make sense, because things don’t always have to. They don’t need to be translated into goals, or targets, made concrete every single time. And that for me, is the freedom of thought.

When was the last time you let yourself truly be?

Feel the prick of cold on your fingertips
Looked at someone and wanted to be them, wanted to be human
Admired the loose curls of a girl on a train
The aqua purple scarf of another
Had thoughts that occurred and escaped just as soon
Thoughts that didn’t hook and catch like burrs on a coat

Try to see the things that others won’t.
The sour strap scarf wrapped close around his throat
Listen when an Asian man says, “classic”
“Freaky is…freaky is relative”
Look at a white van and wonder if it had ever carried bodies, in a dead way
See a woman carrying a present and wonder if it could be for me
Care about light up braille pads on Collins Street that give you the urge to tap dance

Try not giving something a chance –
And eating fried chicken because you can
Look at that woman with cropped hair
And wonder if she keeps it as close cut as she keeps other things
A curly haired boy smiles briefly out the window of this moving tram
We cut through thin air together, sandwiching a rush of it between our tram and the next
A man waves at a woman who got on, after she had turned away
And I wonder if he saw, is as dramatically disappointed as I am, this lover of drama and false resolutions
Conclusions are never really real, are they?

That said – I’m home.

 

‘A Glass’ – A Poem

For the first post of my new blog, I thought I was just going to write a post like a normal person. You know, line-line-line-line-line-new paragraph, etcetera, BAM now you know why I’m here blogging away instead of slogging away like everyone else. End of post. Everyone goes home satisfied and happy. Instead I wrote a poem and formatted it in the shape of a glass. Now ‘End of post.’ is more like ‘End of post?’ and NO ONE is happy. NO ONE.

Here it is anyway!