Change of any kind tends to send my routine driven brain into total panic and I seek shelter in the two things that have always been a constant in my life: my bed and all 10 seasons of Friends. However, one of the first friends (actual friend, sorry Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, Joey, Chandler, Monica…) I made in Lalaland, and now I’m lucky enough to call her my roommate, refused to let me wallow, muttering about how I missed the cold, NPR with my mom, and people who honked to say hello and not crush my spirit. She had been to a nearby poetry lounge recently with her boyfriend and had a feeling it was going to be my kind of scene. She took me one chilly, autumn night and all dramatic/cheesy/god-this-girl-is-too-much feelings intended, my life was changed.
Spoken word became therapy for me, a creative outlet for shit I didn’t even know I had buried deep down, and maybe most beautifully, I formed families. We listen, really, truly listen, something that I don’t think we do in society enough these days. I actually now have to be hyper aware because when I’m in writers groups or workshops at school, I have the tendency to go “mmm” when someone is reading something that I’m connecting with. Oh, don’t mind me. Just having a little, audible orgasm over here because WHAT YOU ARE SAYING SPEAKS TO MY SOUL.
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