{"id":40,"date":"2009-08-26T18:23:04","date_gmt":"2009-08-26T22:23:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.sherryquanlee.com\/?p=40"},"modified":"2009-08-31T10:52:00","modified_gmt":"2009-08-31T14:52:00","slug":"dinner-a-movie-a-cook-a-cook-a-poet-and-always-love","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.sherryquanlee.com\/?p=40","title":{"rendered":"Dinner, a movie, a cook, a cook, a poet-and always, love"},"content":{"rendered":"

Blog number 3:\u00a0 Dinner, a movie, a cook, a cook, a poet\u2014and always, love<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Dinner and a movie.\u00a0 Julie & Julia.<\/em>\u00a0 I loved Mama Mia<\/em>, that\u2019s all I will say, love. \u00a0Perhaps I shouldn\u2019t have gone to a 10:55 showing or eaten steak and baked potato and, then, popcorn with lots of butter and salt.\u00a0 Others, I hear, loved the movie.\u00a0 I loved going to a movie, being in a theatre, having someone sit next to me (if only an ex\/or especially an ex), instead of my usual popcorn and DVD at home in my rocking chair, alone but for\u00a0my grandsons’\u00a0stuffed dogs gracing my living room.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Seeing a current movie gives me something to talk about, to write about.\u00a0 A writer\u2019s prompt.\u00a0 Cooks and writers, both artists for sure.\u00a0 I understand working for a public agency, don\u2019t many artists inhabit the cubicles of many a federal or state agency? I am fortunate, I work with other artists in my role as \u201cprogram associate\u201d and, unlike, perhaps others, my work, however trivial and routine, is work spirited in the arts and I do feel blessed to be in the realm of women and men who want to create, who for them creativity is not always just about pleasure, but it\u2019s a necessity.\u00a0 (Also, I might add, I am blessed with an office and a window\u2014the fourth room I\u2019ve occupied in the eight years I\u2019ve been at the University. but yes, my first two rooms were cubes.)<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Where was I?\u00a0 Julie & Julia.\u00a0 Julia, bored, wanting something to do, wanting to be someone, blessed with a supportive and loving husband.\u00a0 Julie, bored (maybe), wanting something to do, wanting to be someone, blessed with a supportive and loving husband.\u00a0 Julia, it seemed, could afford to do something, become someone\u2014spend eight years working toward publication.\u00a0 Julie, however, how did she manage to work fulltime, cook every evening in a cramped, small as a cardboard box, kitchen, and blog!\u00a0 524 meals in 365 days!\u00a0 How did she afford the ingredients for all 524 recipes (and why didn\u2019t any of them gain weight)?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

How does an author write without a room of her own (what did Virginia Woolf write about A Room of One\u2019s Ow<\/em>n)?\u00a0 I think we need space.\u00a0 Space to empty monkey mind.\u00a0 Space away from \u201chave to do\u2019s\u201d and doing.\u00a0 But, like Julie, I think we writers can write in a cramped kitchen, at a dining room table, or at our desk at work during our lunch hour or breaks\u2014if, we have had the space beforehand to contemplate, and murmur sweet or sour, hot or cold delicacies.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I admire Julie\u2019s perseverance, and as a writer, I can learn from her.\u00a0 What motivated her?\u00a0 What fortified her?\u00a0 How did she handle set backs and criticism by family and friends?\u00a0 I admire and I\u2019m challenged by Julie\u2019s day-to-day productiveness, and the success of accomplishing her goal.\u00a0 However, I\u2019m not challenged enough to say, I can do it, or even I want to do it\u2014I want to write 524 poems in a year (why 524 and not 365)!\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

There are online challenges where writers write a 30,000 word novel in 30 days (or some such challenge), and poets have been known to write a poem a day\u2014but for how many days?\u00a0 As for me, a poet, the last thing I need is a deadline.\u00a0 Writing deadlines, for me, equal anxiety, and, yes, sometimes fear.\u00a0 Writers\u2019 block!\u00a0 (However, as a worker bee, deadlines are sweet and savory.\u00a0 Deadlines, for me, help me get a job done.\u00a0 A job done is something my self-esteem can stick to.)<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I am committed to posting blogs.\u00a0 I am not committed to posting something every day.\u00a0 Perhaps a cook has the stamina to cook something yummy every day.\u00a0 There is always the satisfaction of someone tasting the beef, even if it is only the cook herself.\u00a0 A meal cooked and eaten.\u00a0 However, with a poem, like Julie\u2019s burnt stew, I might want to start over.\u00a0 Throw out everything except the basic ingredients\u2014the subject and knowledge of the craft.\u00a0 I might not want my raw poems consumed.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I am a loner.\u00a0 No supportive husband in the background waiting to dine.\u00a0 Aha!\u00a0 Perhaps that should be my motivation.\u00a0 My subject is love.\u00a0 An alternative to online dating.\u00a0 Love poems\u2014to anyone, to everyone.\u00a0 One a day.\u00a0 Maybe I should rev it up.\u00a0 Two or three a day.\u00a0 What would it take to find the lover who will hunker patiently, waiting to consume\u2014my words?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Here\u2019s the challenge.\u00a0 Make love noble, global.\u00a0 Make love make a difference.\u00a0 Make love a poem.\u00a0\u00a0 Make it green\u2014or red, or purple.\u00a0 Let love save us.\u00a0 The day after 9\/11 I visited my local dry cleaner.\u00a0 I said to the owner, kissing him with words, I said there is nothing left now but love, nothing but love.\u00a0 I embrace that thought questioning why there are times the world comes together (times of illness, of disaster, of death)\u2014and love rules; and there are times love is so absent I must cover my ears because the noise of the lack of love is so painful, so sad, so not understandable.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I believe in love.\u00a0 I believe it like I believe in miracles.\u00a0 Love is a miracle.\u00a0 Here is a love poem for today, first draft, no revision.\u00a0 But, I don\u2019t promise another one tomorrow.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Summer has sent chills<\/p>\n

down<\/p>\n

my<\/p>\n

back I want water<\/p>\n

crave fluidity<\/p>\n

listen for sound like wind<\/p>\n

wandering through trees, yet<\/p>\n

wet\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 weekends not enough<\/p>\n

to escape from sheet rock and nails<\/p>\n

I want sun sizzling, crackling like wounded<\/p>\n

cement, my view of night.\u00a0 Darkness<\/p>\n

awakens me, memory of seasons<\/p>\n

I could afford to be happy.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Sherry Quan Lee<\/p>\n

August 24, 2009<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Blog number 3:\u00a0 Dinner, a movie, a cook, a cook, a poet\u2014and always, love \u00a0 Dinner and a movie.\u00a0 Julie & Julia.\u00a0 I loved Mama Mia, that\u2019s all I will say, love. \u00a0Perhaps I shouldn\u2019t have gone to a 10:55 showing or eaten steak and baked potato and, then, popcorn …<\/p>\n

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