Day 21: Biggest Fear

Right, my biggest fear. It depends really. If there’s a spider in the house, then it’s definitely spiders. But on darker days, it’s being alone; failing (at everything); or the loss of someone I love.

Then sometimes when I’m feeling particularly fragile, it’s really stupid things like talking on the phone; making any kind of decision; or getting my tax receipts together so the accountant can sort out my return. But these last things sound particularly pathetic when I read back over them… Better stick with spiders.

What's your biggest fear?

Counting down to Edinburgh

At the start of August I'll be heading to the UK to take part in the Scottish Universities' International Summer School. I'm going to give the Creative Writing Course a red hot go.

I'm both nervous and excited by this opportunity. I think I'm feeling a little intimidated by it all and I'm not sure that I'm up to it. I tend to do this to myself - dash out onto the limb and then realise how far down it is, get scared, vow not to look down again, look down anyway, have a mild panic attack while I imagine myself splattered all over the ground below, then become frozen in place like those cliched cats that have to be rescued by the fire brigade (don't the fire brigade have anything better to do?) In this case, the 'frozen in place' part will actually ferry me swiftly and surely to Scotland since all the arrangements have been made and I'm now too scared witless to do anything about it. I'll be dragged along by a tide of my own making.

I hope they don't mind a metaphor, a simile or two in this course, I think I've got that under control.

In the hospital

In the hospital you said,

“We used to have fun,

you and I,

when you were little.”

you held my hand tightly

and I couldn’t feel

my fingers

You said,

“You were a terror

knocking down

the houses

I’d built of cards.”

I leant forward

in the uncomfortable chair

left for uncomfortable visitors

smiled

and laughed too loudly

agreed

I talked about the kite

we made

together

that wouldn’t fly properly

until it’s frame broke

in a spectacular crash landing

you did a hasty repair

and finally

it flew

You held my hand and said,

“Anyway, ninety-one’s pretty good,”

and I laughed as if you were joking

kissed your cheek

and left

as if nothing was wrong

Somewhere a house

of cards

fell down

**************************************

Background:

Recently my Pa wasn't very well and the conversation we had before his operation to remove a bowel obstruction frightened me so I needed to write about it. The ending is about my fear, not Pa's demise & in fact, he's doing very well.

Poetry under the Grandstand

Arriving at the Queen Elizabeth Oval, I parked a distance away (I didn't know any better) but it gave me time to breathe and quell my churning stomach before walking into the club rooms. The flurry of report writing I had found myself in over the past two weeks hadn't allowed me to think too much about the poetry reading and get myself in knots over it but once I got to the venue, the reality of it hit me. I was about to read my poetry in front of an audience, and an audience that included the likes of alicia sometimes, Nathan Curnow and Sean M Whelan! Not to mention the local poets with whom I would be reading whose accompishments also intimidated me, and those who were there as audience members whose accomplishments etc etc. What was I thinking? What was Tru thinking asking me to be involved? What was Nic thinking encouraging me to say yes? Neither of them put much thought into how out of my depth and drowning I would be!

Tru started the show with thank yous and a general overview of the program for the evening. And my stomach turned itself into a pretzel-shaped knot of anxiety. Tru introduced the first poet and my heart began to thud so loudly I thought it might put the poor woman off her reading. I don't think I heard her first couple of words and all that blood rushing around in my head was about to ruin my evening so I had a quick but very stern talking to my self-esteem and told it to get over itself. From then on the night ran smoothly. When Tru called upon me to read (even though Nic had to put a hand on my knee to stop me from leaping to my feet in over-anxious enthusiasm and my face burnt with embarrassment at my limited bio) I was able to walk reasonably calmly to the microphone and read my two poems. People laughed (at the funny bits), people clapped, I was relieved and high on 'I-did-it'.

Later, I was able to schmooze with alicia and Nathan and meet some lovely local people too. I'm pleased to report that nobody knew I was nervous (or at least they were all too polite to say so) and that my poems went over well.

Now I can't wait to do it again...

A Poetry Reading

Next Friday I am going to be part of a poetry reading which is a collaborative effort between Bendigo Poets and the Going Down Swinging commissioned event called 'Static'.

I'm quite daunted and even a bit intimidated by the other names and their achievements. I sat reading through the Bios last night and felt sick at being included when I have so little to show for my writing efforts. I'm nestled amongst logie winners; published poets, short story writers and novelists; and generally fabulous people. I'm not sure what I'll have to contribute.

That said, I'm also very excited and really looking forward to it. I probably didn't need this distraction amongst report writing though...

Some poems that I'm considering to follow.