I very much wish that I knew Whatever it is that you go do Wherever it is that you get to When the sky ceases its deep blue Replaced with an orange-purple hue.
Tag: Writing
fri(days)
Does our longing for Fridays
Shorten the other weekdays?
Alas, it prolongs the days;
Nothing short about Mondays
Nor the longness of Tuesdays
Nor cut short on the Hump Days
But to elongate Thursdays
Means shortening our Fridays
And we’ve long known that Fridays
Ain’t been shortened for no days
(Well, not counting Saturdays
and, of course, restful Sundays).
anger, irritability…and depression?
The other morning I heard this very interesting piece on NPR’s Morning Edition, and not only was I happy to hear such a thing addressed on a nationally syndicated radio show (which, granted, is par for the course for the greatness that is NPR), but I was also reminded of my own experiences with depression and how anger and irritability were related to them.
As I wrote here back in 2017, I’ve had my own issues with a temper, just like I’ve had my own bouts of irritability. Now, some of the latter is just life (i.e., I didn’t sleep well; my brothers were being brothers and annoying me; someone just wouldn’t stop talking in a movie; etc.), but in retrospect I can attest that much of that irritability was related to my overall mental state. That said, there’s no question that my temper was the greater signifier of said state. But when you’re dealing with a temper (or irritability), it’s quite easy to focus simply on that and not what could be the underlying problem: depression.
Now, I’m not cautioning you to go out and assume that anyone who flares up in anger or expresses irritability towards you is depressed–that would be a tad presumptuous. But if it seems out of character, or if it’s prolonged in nature, then when things settle down it might not hurt to ask them if they’re OK.
Thanks for reading.
-j
photo[journey]
In the interim, this site has changed its name (i.e., theroadkindoftraveled to theisswriter), and augmented its content (e.g., poetry and the odd grammar tip), but the purpose has remained the same: typing things; for me; for you. Well, now it’s changing, again. Late last summer, I purchased my first camera that wasn’t either disposable (remember those?) or a phone: a Nikon D3400. I coupled that with a Tamron SP AF17-50mm lens, and then recently added a Tamron SP 70-200mm. Neither the camera itself or the lenses are considered (at all) the best in their respective categories, but the equipment is solid enough to offer me a great starting point for this part of my creative journey.
I’ve always enjoyed photography–both viewing and taking–but my understanding of anything more complex than what my iPhone, or Android before it, offered me in that realm was beyond me. It was all, “iPhone added the ability to zoom with the camera OMG!,” megapixels, and auto-settings. Now it’s f-stops, ISO’s, and shutter speeds. What? But I’m learning–slowly, but more quickly than I anticipated, thanks to the tutelage of friend and professional photographer Hoss McBain. He answers innumerable questions, often more than once, and always with the same jovial smile and demeanor as the first time. His passion for the craft has been infectious: I’M INFECTED.
The interplay of the arts with our mood, thoughts,
and behavior matters…because it’s real.
Anyhoo, you’ll notice I’ve recently begun adding photos to blog posts (well, not the ones of me as a shirtless or robot-costumed kid, etc.), as well as a “photography” page. My hope is to not only be able to share my progress with you, but to literally add color to my posts. Photos, like music and writing, are evocative–especially to me, and often the idea for a post or poem stems from one, or vice-versa. Personally, it became too banal to simply post mere words. I want you to know what I’m seeing, listening to, or reading about when I write, because the interplay of the arts with our mood, thoughts, and behavior matters…because it’s real. And if I’ve done anything since taking the first step of this journey back in 2016, I hope I’ve been real (to you).
I hope you enjoy the photography.
Thank you for reading (and now viewing).
Best,
-j
cloudy
I like to let my poems speak for themselves, therefore I’m not particularly keen on prefacing them with any sort of context such as this. However, I feel it necessary to break that wall now so that I’m clear on one thing: I’m not depressed. If you’ve read within this space before, you’re aware that I enjoy writing about mental health–particularly my experiences with it. This is one such occasion. As always, thanks for reading:
A thought is lurking Inside me I'm aware of its Existence But I've chosen to Ignore it Not so much ignore As push it Beyond other thoughts Repressing Defending myself From its pain This is unhealthy I know this What else shall I do To forestall? Away, away please Go away Past the clouds into Deepest blue I'm certain we will Meet again Until then, away Away you.
eternity
What is eternity like?
What does one do forever?
Does one get bored?
Does one do the same thing daily?
Do days even exist anymore?
Do things begin or end?
What would happen to you?
What if you’re not there?
I’m not so sure about eternity.
I’m sure hoping you’re there.
Highland TER
My life in vintage colors Memories of simpler times Silver robots; red wagons Silly neighbors; street parades A life of unhinged laughter Amens before the altar Real Santa’s; make-believe friends Rabbit-like cars; in-car phones Within the Heights of Richmond On a Terrace named Highland Dreams wake; reality sleeps The imagined; magic reigns.
(my)our day
Havin’ my second party
You came
Cryin’ when she had to leave
Mom shame
Sittin’ with my grandparents
No blame
Openin’ my next present
New game
Quittin’ on the party NO
Dad claimed
Headin’ back here as soon as
Paul named
Eight Fourteen: The Theiss B-Day
Bro frame
Happy birthday, bro.
Stop crashing my party.
-j
(shy)light
I wish I were a skylight; a lamp atop the tallest building in my city; I want to look out from my lookout; I want to be urban; not sub but above urban; apart from you yet a part of your experience; not a subject, but a mere object; individually insignificant, collectively brilliant; just like you, but not like you; I want you to notice me, but not see me; to light your way, while staying out of it; eradicate shadows, yet staying in mine; my facade, faceless; your afterthought, thinking about you; extroverted travel to you 299,792,458 meters per second, from the introverted refuge of my bulb.
(writer’s) blocks
I liked blocks as a kid
So, why’s writer’s block bad?
sigh…well,
I have got it right now
But I’m writing, somehow.
shrug…so,
Like back when I was young,
Playin’ with blocks is fun.
Thanks for reading.
-j
theisswriter: typing things. for me. for you. 