To Be Or Snot To Be
I wrote poetry on the bus today. On my way home from work. Don’t ask me why. There was just a line in my head. So I wrote it down, and kept writing.
How poetic of me.
It was nice, though. I like writing. Playing with words. Maybe I should take poetry up again. Try and write about the past. Some of the underlying emotions. Some of the things that I have to deal with in therapy too. Writing is good therapy. I remember those years ago when I was isolated, sad and bitter. It helped to write poetry. The result doesn’t matter, it’s the process that’s important. I probably couldn’t write that crappy teen-angst stuff anymore. The things I wrote on the bus were in Danish too. Doesn’t mean they don’t suck. Just in different ways.
I love self-deprecation.
If you like writing, shouldn’t you write?
Someone on Livejournal suggested that the piglet with the eyebrows should be named Groucho. Haha. I love that.