I just spent the last hour trying to fax two documents to my new school district (yes, I accepted the "heart" position). It wasn't pretty. The fax machine ate the paper like it was in the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest, so I had the bright idea of seeing if any of my 17 email accounts has the option of faxing. They don't, and it turns out the fax machine's problem was a paper clip wedged inside. I did, however, find an old email I had saved. This email appeared in my email box December 10, 2000. I still don't know who sent it to me, but it is a rather interesting note.
Dear Allison,
I'm not exactly sure how to begin. You were my biggest competition when
we were in high school. I always thought that you're poetry was very profound
and that you have a very inspiring intellect. I was moved by the way that you
were able to paint a picture with the words that you used. So many poets try
to accomplish that goal,but fall short in the end. You should feel very
blessed because, poetry is not something that everyone can do. To be able to
wrap yourself up in a moment or a feeling and turn it ino a picture that
anyone can relate to is utterly fantastic. As in the words of the late ,
great Wiliam Blake ' tyger oh tyger, what immortal hand or eye could frame
thy fearful symmetry' .
So few people can look beyond what lies before them in this world and
make sweet sense of the whole situation. So from poet to fellow poet I would
like to say thankyou for making this life just a little sweeter; because
within the words there is imagination and that can take us any where, any
place, any time that we want to be. Within the very lines that we write
people will find any fantasy that they dare conjur. And with that profound
thought, I ask you, do you realize the unique power with wich you've been
endowed?
I'm flattered...and just slightly stunned. For the life of me I cannot remember competing with anyone in high school in the writing field. That's even weirder because I have this freakish memory. I can tell you who I sat next to in each class and describe each hallway I walked. I still know the birthdays of all my high school friends and most of their high school phone numbers. I can describe people down to the finest detail, but do not remember ANYONE competing with me as a writer.
Now that I am facing a move, I am really thinking about what we hold on to. Our minds and memories and closets are packed with all sorts of paraphernalia that in the end may or may not really matter. I need this reminder today as I'm trying to keep myself from succumbing to the feelings stirred in me from saying good-bye to my home and co-workers and knowing that someone else is saying good-bye to her home and beloved animals (including euthanizing one of her dogs). My life is bittersweet today, and for the first time in my life, I want to embrace the flavor.
I'm not exactly sure how to begin. You were my biggest competition when
we were in high school. I always thought that you're poetry was very profound
and that you have a very inspiring intellect. I was moved by the way that you
were able to paint a picture with the words that you used. So many poets try
to accomplish that goal,but fall short in the end. You should feel very
blessed because, poetry is not something that everyone can do. To be able to
wrap yourself up in a moment or a feeling and turn it ino a picture that
anyone can relate to is utterly fantastic. As in the words of the late ,
great Wiliam Blake ' tyger oh tyger, what immortal hand or eye could frame
thy fearful symmetry' .
So few people can look beyond what lies before them in this world and
make sweet sense of the whole situation. So from poet to fellow poet I would
like to say thankyou for making this life just a little sweeter; because
within the words there is imagination and that can take us any where, any
place, any time that we want to be. Within the very lines that we write
people will find any fantasy that they dare conjur. And with that profound
thought, I ask you, do you realize the unique power with wich you've been
endowed?
I'm flattered...and just slightly stunned. For the life of me I cannot remember competing with anyone in high school in the writing field. That's even weirder because I have this freakish memory. I can tell you who I sat next to in each class and describe each hallway I walked. I still know the birthdays of all my high school friends and most of their high school phone numbers. I can describe people down to the finest detail, but do not remember ANYONE competing with me as a writer.
Now that I am facing a move, I am really thinking about what we hold on to. Our minds and memories and closets are packed with all sorts of paraphernalia that in the end may or may not really matter. I need this reminder today as I'm trying to keep myself from succumbing to the feelings stirred in me from saying good-bye to my home and co-workers and knowing that someone else is saying good-bye to her home and beloved animals (including euthanizing one of her dogs). My life is bittersweet today, and for the first time in my life, I want to embrace the flavor.
Comments
I think it's interesting to note that those to whom we constantly compare ourselves may not even be aware of the competition.