An Inspirational Night

I just came home from a poetry reading with some of the instructors at work. Being a part of an intellectual environment is so rewarding. Everyone is always seeking to expand their knowledge. It is very inspiring.

Tonight the Head of the English Department invited the faculty and staff to his home for a private poetry reading with a woman who tours the US at various colleges and universities and reads poetry. Did you hear what I said? She READS poetry, she doesn’t write any of it. While my colleagues may be amazed at the way she performs her pieces I was amazed at the fact that people PAY this lady to read OTHER PEOPLE’S POEMS.

Shoot…. I can read too! If only I were single… I’d tear America up. I was born to perform. But..oh well.

She was excellent by the way. Full of energy and passion and her tone led itself to its own interpretation of the author’s work. The most fanulous part of the night was the opportunity for the guests to read some of our favorite poems or our own work.

I was so hyped when I read about that in the invitation! I came home sulking because I knew that all of my old poetry was in my old computer, which has been sitting in the closet since I moved to Miami. I dragged out my tower and tried to hook it up, but I gave up and yelled out, “Maaaammaaaaa!” She came through and hooked it up to her monitor but I couldn’t print because my printer wasn’t installed. So I actually sat there and HANDWROTE two poems. ~whew~ I haven’t HANDWRITTEN anything in a long time. I really don’t like doing it and I hope I never have to do it again.

So I took my two poems and read them for everyone. They laughed. I read a poem about my love for magazines and a poem about my dream vacation. I didn’t bring any of my racial stuff. I knew I was gonna be the only black person there and I didn’t want to go there.

The beautiful thing about sharing our favorite works was the fact that some people brought in poetry in other languages; Romanian, Latin, Spanish, French- we heard it all. And even though I don’t speak any of those languages, the language itself spoke to me and I was able to appreciate the art for itself.

The words on their lips brought raucous laughter to the room, tears to my eyes and a rise in my, er, loins as some of the poetry became quite seductive. As we nibbled on triscuits and different kinds of cheeses, relished the various desserts that were served and sipped our favorite wines, I really felt inspired. I want to learn more about poetry. I want to read and appreciate it like these people do.

I want to become more educated about the arts and the world in general. I am sometimes so wrapped up in me, that I forget that there are others out there just like me, who are creating and exploding with their passion onto paper and screen.

I guess I am one of those artsy types that I always admired so much.

One of those weird chicks who made you raise your eyebrow at their exuberance. I may be a bit MUCH. ~cringes~ A little TOO honest. A little TOO open. A little TOO insecure or moody or hopeful. But in the end, I’m just me.