Stuck

What's up ya stuck fuck

Down to your last buck?

Walking through the muck?

Can't shake that funk?

You don't have that kind of luck.

Shmuck.

She said she loved you, then left.

Snuck.

You know there was someone else.

Cuck.

Feeling sorry for yourself?

Yuk.

No, no, no. It is time to reconstruct

Tell your boss 'have a nice day, and get fucked'

Cruise to the beach in an old pick-up truck.

Find a used guitar with strings to be plucked.

Maybe the last few weeks have sucked,

But there are people to meet, and beers to be drunk,

Roll up a king size, and take a puff of the skunk.

There will be plenty more people to love.

Quick recap: I took a trip to visit one of my best friends last week. It was exactly what I needed. I won't get into it too much, but damn do I have good friends. I went to a country music festival with my family over the weekend and had the best time. I was gonna not write this part, but this is my fucking blog lol. I missed her the whole time. Everything I do for a while I have a feeling I will have a little part of me thinking 'she would love this' or 'I wish she was here.' I know it will fade one day, but I was with her for 6 years, it is tough. Alright now that we cleared the air there, I am generally doing better. I woke up feeling sick on Tuesday but I just took a few personal days so I felt bad calling out again. Bad idea, slammed with work, client going nuts, the whole shabang. Whatever, honestly fuck it. Not sure what I am going to do because keeping my head down and doing good work hasn't gotten me to where I'd like to be so far. I like to think I am good at facing adversity. Not really from experience, because I am well aware that I have not had a tough life on anyones scale, but I think about it a lot. I will get through this adversity too, it is just a lot at once. I had some conversations with people at work today and it was not what I wanted to hear at all, but for some reason I felt relaxed and calm afterwards. I called my boss back and apologized for being unprofessional earlier, sent some emails, then went outside for a few minutes.

When I was looking out at the bird feeders and the squirrels I started to think about what the seventeen year old me would say to myself today. If he was watching all of this for the last few months, what would he think of me? Truthfully, I did not know. Would he be proud of what I have done? Would he be upset about what went down at college? Would he think I am a loser? Then, I think I figured it out. He would laugh, he would look at me and say 'you think you're stuck?' and he would laugh again. That kid was fearless. It certainly may have been ignorance, but it was fearless. Stuck wasn't in his vocabulary. It was around, over, or right the fuck through it. Every-day was a new adventure, a new lesson to be learned. Then I got wrapped up on this word stuck. Stuck stuck stuck stuck, I do this thing where I say a word so many times, I think about it so hard, it starts to feel like it isn't even a real word anymore. That is what I did here. I literally googled "is stuck a real word". Obviously it is, but you see what I mean?

It was time for me to be creative again, not just depressed and sad and wah Kafka bullshit. Yeah this poem has a little bit of sadness to it, maybe take some shots at myself, but if you look close, I think it is pretty good work.

My idea was the narrator is that seventeen year old me, and he's talking at me. When I was 17, I was witty, I was insightful, and I was also a prick sometimes. The first verse I chose to begin with the stuck motif. Stuck in a 5 syllable 4 line box. Stuck in this gross rhyming scheme. I thought of it as something I would've said trying to make someone laugh, but in reality all comedy has truth in it.

The second verse I tried to be a little bit more creative. I thought that if I used an uneven 7 syllable line and then a break to a one syllable line, it would show how I have been breaking myself down. By using hurtful words with negative connotation in the one syllable lines, I was hoping to show how healing isn't always linear. You have to say some of these things out-loud and wear them on your chest, but I have found that when I try to do it, I keep insulting myself before I can really heal. It is like my body doesn't want to let the pain go yet so it is trying to dig a little deeper. (I am getting better I promise).

Then I finally put some good creative fun on this website (LOL). The third verse is the transition that I am making now in life. Reconstruction. I have a good foundation and that is a lot more than I can say for a lot of folks. To represent a strong foundation I chose 10 syllables per line and 4 lines. Strong like a brick house. I also saw kid rock this weekend and he is a badass and probably inspired some of that country feel here. I feel like I started talking about taking MY life back. That is what he would say to me anyway, that 17 year old me would look me right in the eyes and say nobody tells you who the fuck you're going to be dude, snap out of it. I chose to continue the rhyme scheme because even though things are getting better, you have to recognize the rules to the games. How you play within those rules is up to you, but it is part of this all.

Verse 4 we start to see more change. The rhyme scheme continues for line one, but then starts to shift a little bit through the following two lines. By the fourth line the rhyme scheme is broken and done for the rest of the poem. Reason 1, beers to be drunk and a puff of the skunk, maybe that all went down before we wrote line 4 hahahaha. No, but that is funny. Reason 2 I really like that line at the end. I also went 8,12,12,10 for syllables in this verse. I wanted verse 4 to feel like the transition out of being stuck. When I was writing it I thought about what I would think right after I got saved from quick sand. I think my first thought would be "how the fuck do I make sure I don't do that again" but I am starting to realize those kind of thoughts just waste your time. You will get stuck again, there will be more quick sand, another shit boss, another woman, more troubles, so fucking be you. Have 8 syllables then 12 twice then 10 because fuck it I literally can.

It was short, probably not that good, but here I am again at the end of one of these posts talking about how much better I feel after writing. Excited to see what the future holds.

- Keep on Thinkin

Gilly