Absurdity: A Poem

Anyone who’s been around for a while knows I’m obsessed with philosophy. Specifically, I’m obsessed with absurdity, which is a (not) subset of existentialism and written about by Albert Camus in his book The Myth of Sisyphus. You may also be familiar with Camus’s novels, The Stranger and The Plague. In my opinion, The Stranger is more about reaching absurdism through (really weird) lived experience, and how a person might get there intellectually. The Plague is a sort of exploration about how absurdism manifests across a range of people with different lived experiences, and how different types of people deal when facing absurdity. Some reach for religion, some create their own meaning, and some just keep shoving that rock uphill.

Anyway, obviously I’m going to have some poems about philosophy.

This one is specifically about absurdism, and grappling with the meaninglessness of life in the context of absurdism.

Absurdity

The desperate desire
craving
yearning
to know why—

Isn’t it absurd
in the context of
infinity
eternity
to presume that something
as small as I
would ever know
why?

The relentless dissonance
resounds in my mind:
the yearning to know
that which is unknowable—
because it does not exist.

Ariele's Vlog: Endurance

Sometimes I like to think of writing as an endurance sport. It’s more like running a marathon than a sprint. It’s more like swimming the mile than … one of the shorter ones lol. It’s more like walking for days than around the block. Sure, you can go faster and slower. You might take days off to rest. But ultimately, the real skill is in keeping going. And going and going. And prioritizing your health and wellness. And recognizing that writing is a craft that requires time, effort, dedication, and endurance to grow.

Writing Tips (Sometimes): To Publish or Not To Publish, That Is The Question

There’s a lot of pressure in the writing industry to publish. Have you noticed? Especially now that self-publishing is so easy. 

If you go to a conference, a common question is, “Are you published?” and “How many books do you have out?”

The more books I publish, the more awkward this conversation becomes for me. “How many?” usually follows. More and more, I’ve begun saying, “a few,” and trying to change the topic quickly. 

Because the number of books an author has published, while certainly an achievement regardless of the number, is not the only way to measure the success, experience, or skill of a writer. Nor is income. Or awards.

So if publishing doesn’t guarantee you success, nor function as an indicator of your skill, should you publish at all? Why?

There are lots of reasons to publish, of course, first and foremost being, “I want to.” But you might also want to try to make money from your work. Maybe you want a larger audience. Maybe you enjoy the publishing process or get a sense of satisfaction from putting a book out. Maybe you like the idea of calling yourself a published author. Maybe it’s a dream you’ve always had.

But publishing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be either. There are a lot of people and companies out there trying to make money on writers who just want a published book. There are scam artists and publishers who will charge you an obscene amount of money and provide you with a poor-quality product. There are issues around copyright and reviews, criticism and critique, money and rules. So many rules for every distributor, marketing company, and designer.

That, and it's a lot of work. Whether you publish traditionally or indie, it is a labor-intensive process. And not a process that always brings a writer any particular amount of joy.

So let me just say this.

You don’t have to publish.

Personally, I think “I want to,” is a good enough reason to do so. But if you don’t want to, why are you doing it? What do you hope to get out of it?

And if the reason is, “Because I’m supposed to,” or "Someone told me I should," I’d invite you to take another look at that. Question it. Dissect it.

What else in life do you do “because you’re supposed to”? Why? What have you stopped doing because you realized it was dumb?

You don’t have to publish. If you want to, great! I’m all about it. I like publishing. I do it all the time.

But you don’t have to. If someone says you do, they’re wrong.

Publish if you want. Publish because it helps you pursue your goals.

Don’t publish if you don’t want to. You can always write for the love of it without all the extra crap.

You do you. And don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Ariele's Vlog: Brain Metaphors

Honestly, I think about brains too often. They’re the weirdest organ. And baby brains? Growing and expanding and shoving around their skull bones? And two sets of teeth!? Okay, that’s a little different.

But anyway, I have some neurodivergence, and so I am constantly trying to figure out how to cross the gap between the way I think and the way other people think. And sometimes, I just can’t. But I do try.

This ramble goes a bit into that, as well as gives some of my thoughts about how to think about thinking.

Yep. Enjoy.

Losing Streak: A Poem

Last year I had a procedure, though I prefer not to go into gory details, and went through a period of experiencing regular and ongoing pain.

You guessed it! I wrote a poem about it!

Physical pain, like emotional pain, is unique to the experiencer. One of the things I found myself thinking a lot about during this period was the language we use to describe the pain. How can a doctor know how to handle our situation, when everyone a.) had their own unique experience of pain and discomfort, and b.) has their unique way of describing it?

Great question, and I have no answers for you.

Anyway, here’s the poem I wrote while on painkillers.

Losing Streak

It’s weird when the pain leaves
the place it’s supposed to be,
and travels down and in and through
to my extremities.

It hurts to move and it hurts to sit
and nothing feels quite right.
Chair’s too soft and floor’s too hard
and shirt, pants, socks too tight.

I just can’t win, I don’t think;
the medicine is weak.
Nothing matters; all is pain.
I’m on a losing streak.