I haven't really been checking Laurie Halse Anderson's prompts because I haven't gotten any sort of inspiration from them, but today I checked and yesterday she offered a poem. It's called "Completamente Viernes," or "Completely Friday." Here is the link. Or, if you like Spanish(!), here's the original.

I immediately took a liking to it. Jackie and I sat down and tried to analyze it, something I haven't done since high school English classes. It was definitely refreshing, to try this exercise once more, and while I was pretty sure we had a handle on the general idea after a few minutes, I was frustrated that I didn't have "cheat sheet," or someone to tell me what it really means.

It makes me feel a little hypocritical, because one of the reasons I claim I love literature and poetry is because it can be interpreted in any way. Tarik says that's why he doesn't like it--because there is no "real" answer, perhaps only what the author intended. But I guess this made me realize that the American school system has trained me well; forget creativity, just make sure you get the right answer and get a good grade on the test. In literature units, we're always tested on what the teacher said it meant. Does that defeat the purpose of literature? Or are the author's intentions the only meanings that matter? Are we, as a South Park episode suggested, just looking into everything too much?

I always got excited whenever we got creative assignments in English class, and I usually got very good grades on them, whether it was a play, a poem, or the narrative I wrote about my trip to Israel. Maybe I should do it more often. So...my thoughts on the poem.

Past loves--requited or unrequited--are everywhere, in so many things we see, throughout the routine and work of the day. For me, I will always be able to connect to a certain street sign, a popular book, a philosophy I hold, a pretty beach, the smell of a type of gum, Indian summer, Christmas lights, and...well, maybe I'll figure out that last one in the coming weeks. I used to hate it, always being reminded of times past, but now it just gives everything more meaning.

Memories fade too easily for me, I've found. It's why I'm glad I documented the minutia of a few school years; I can go back and read them and remember almost everything clearly. But since I haven't been writing, I feel like it's become harder and harder for me to close my eyes and go back to moments. Last year was like one big blur. It was one big blur of bliss, but the only things I can distinctly remember are the sad moments. I can remember a few happy ones, but most days blend into the other, and I could never tell you exactly what I did the day of, oh, I don't know, maybe March 12th, 2010. But how about March 12th, 2007? Let's see... I handed in a giant history paper, Robert sat down and slammed into my nose during gym class, I sang a "Rent" medley during YS Singers, and went to Rita's. Even though I can't remember the entire day, I still chuckled and remembered those moments.

So by having these little reminders of the past--I don't mind anymore. It helps me keep my past near in the present, and I'll always have them for the future, collecting.

And maybe I'll think about writing journal entries again.