Quirky Confessions

A Few Really Odd Details About Val That You Probably Didn't Care To Know

Warning: This list is really peculiar and pretty embarrassing so if you'd rather not know such details about me, then don't read.

1. I like lists-- like this one.
2. I don't like the sound of alarms. It's not that I mind waking up to them, but I just don't like the sound. I prefer a phone with a loud vibrator to awake me. Unfortunately, my phone is too suave and quiet now for this to work.
3. On the lines of alarms-- I don't like waking up fives and zeros, like 6:30 or 6:35. I prefer times that end in twos, fours, sixes, and nines, like 6:32, 6:34, 6:36, and 6:39. Nines are rare. Eights are okay occasionally.
4. Speaking of nines, nine is my lucky number. I was born in the ninth month, on the 29th day, in the year 1989 at 9:03 am. Fate? I think so.
5. I passionately despise being cold. For example, my toes are cold right now and it's distracting me.
6. I don't like my feet.
7. My arms are hairy. And when I first wrote that I spelled hairy as "harry."
   
8. I buy dirt cheap clothes and then never wear them. Then I feel guilty for my frivolous spending and hang onto the said article of clothing forever. It's terrible.
9. Along the lines of clothes, I wear shirts, shoes, jeans, etc... that I don't like very much every once in a while so they have their "turn." Sometimes these offending pieces of clothing are those same pieces mentioned in number eight. I also listen to crappy CD's every so often for the same reason.
10. I am mildly obsessed with words and names. I am registered on pregnancy sites (okay only one) so I can explore the name databases and chat with expectant mothers. I supposedly had a baby girl in September. Must get pregnant again... And www.thesaurus.com and www.behindthename.com are two other favorite sites of mine. I have favorite words that are just comfortable to use.
    
11. Did I mention I really, really don't like being cold?
12. I have favorite spots, like a favorite position on the couch, seat at the kitchen table, desks in classes, and such. I am not overly bothered by upsets in my system, but it throws me off kilter for just a minute. The only favorite spot I am very particular about is my parking spots.
    
13. I love juice. I drink a lot of juice. Apple juice to be specific. Wal Mart apple juice is rather icky. Once in a rather stressful week I counted eight half empty cups of icky Wal Mart juice scattered throughout the kitchen. Bad Valerie.
    
14. I refer to people by their full names on frequent occasions. Like I said, I like names.
15. My roommates just reminded me I eat cereal very often. I'd like to give a brief shout out to all those who have first of all even heard of King Vitamin and second of all enjoy eating it.
16. I sleep in the same spot, in the same position every night. I am told I sleep like a corpse. Or a mummy. Take your pick. I have a horrible confession. My bed at home actually has a butt imprint of just where I sleep at night.
    
17. My roommates say I brush my teeth a lot. But I don't think so. I brush after I eat. Is that odd? Yesterday, the dental hygienist complimented me on my clean teeth and nice gums. It made my day.
18. Speaking of dentists, I feel horribly guilty when he tells me to floss more (even though I floss quite often), so guilty I get sick to my stomach.
    
19. Before going to the hairdresser, I always do my hair really cute and dress up. I don't want the hairdressers to think poorly of me.
    
20. I can be kind to a fault. And sometimes I store all this pent up meanness and just snap and that's not pretty.
21. I have a very hard time saying no. I can be too passive. Which is odd, because I am either too passive, or way too stubborn. Rarely in the middle.
    
22. I passionately love poetry. Poetry deserves to be read out loud. Unfortunately, there is little room for privacy in a house with five girls, so the other day I read poetry out loud on the bottom of the basement stairs. Parks and mountainous locations are also good for the reading of poetry.
23. This list makes me sound like I might be in serious need of professional mental help. I promise I'm okay.
    
24. I tend to be overly apologetic.
    
25. I sometimes forget to feed myself.
    
26. I love grocery shopping. Really, I love it.
27. I also love book stores, particularly used book stores. When I'm having a bad day, I like going to book stores and just letting the pages upon pages of print absorb my stress.
    
28. When I forget to do something important, I feel excessively guilty and can't stop thinking about it until it's done, even if there is nothing I can do about it for quite some time. Sometimes writing the item up in a list helps.
29. My feet have warmed up, but now my hands are cold.
    

Okay now that I have exposed myself in a scandalous fashion, it's your turn. To which of my quirks can you relate? And any of your own quirks you'd like to confess? It's oddly therapeutic to get that all out there in a nice tidy list. I recommend it thoroughly. I like lists.

Click

A couple weeks ago, on Halloween actually, I had an unexpected afternoon to myself. Armed with a camera and a book of poetry, I went on a photographic exploration of my neighborhood and the college campus. My camera batteries eventually died-- probably for the best --and I sat on a grassy hill and read poetry until rain and the coming darkness chased me home. I have claimed this as a blog of creative writings and such. I suppose this falls under the such category. But there is something so poetic about autumn and art! These are a few of the better shots taken that wonderful afternoon of freedom.



PHOTOGRAPHY BY VALERIE OWENS

Blue

What a strange morning. I ran to the gym this morning in a thick fog. From the windows of the gym, I watched as the rising sun bled into the misty gray dawn, melting away the shadowy sky. Within an hour, the sky was June blue-- exquisite-- with the exception of a few dusty clouds lingering at the horizon. Now, not an hour later, the fog has returned, thicker than before. It is hard to imagine that somewhere beneath the heavy grayness there is a blue sky, waiting quietly to return.

In other news, it is a Tuesday. It is also Veterans Day. I am so thrilled to be an American! Last week was my first time voting. What a thrill that was! I am grateful to those men who fight to protect my freedom, so I can do things like vote-- and enjoy November fog. The pictures below are of war memorials in the DC area.

Photography by Valerie Owens

Like Unto a Photograph

Poetry is much like unto photography. The desire and end goal is the same-- to capture the power of emotion and beauty of vision into one pivotal snapshot, to say much with little, to use a moment to relate to a lifetime... Out of a hundred clicks of the camera, only one photo worthy of note might be produced. The same is true with poetry. The poet continually pumps out poem after poem with hopes that one, just one, will rise above the mediocrity of the ninety-nine others.

I have now missed lunch due to poetic attempts. Dang.

Poem 3

The topic of poem three is clothes, hence the title, "Clothes." Really, it's there for lack of a better title.

Clothes
Valerie Owens

Poets, dreamers, and rebels sing the same song,
the melancholy tune of November's chilled winds.
I wrap myself up in a swanky sweater
and pretend to be all three.

I'd like to weave the words
of life and love and longing.
I'd weave the finest robe there ever was
and flaunt it proudly the streets.
I beckon those who'd dreamed the dreams of poetry
to garb themselves in words
and dance through life with me.

Poem 4

Pretend
Valerie Owens

So one Friday night
We shared laughs and chip dip
Over a game of truth or dare
At a party
Where we were both strangers
And you wore that hat
And I said I like it
Don’t pretend that you know me

So we wound up as roommates
Sharing dishes
And gossip
And chatter
So you’ve known me
A season-- no more
Don’t pretend that you know me

So you were a teacher of mine
I sat in the front row
And listened contently
You graded my papers
And answered my queries
So once I was in your class
Don’t pretend that you know me

So we were lovers
Or so we believed
We shared kisses
And dinners
For a little while.
And once you said you loved me.
But.
Don’t pretend that you know me.

Details and moments
This is what you know-- not me.
Details and moments-- not me.

Then what am I, if not these?

Please, my friend
Take a seat.
And please, my friend
Listen
Won’t you try to get to know me?


This poem is still in the rough draft stage. I can't get the flow to come out just right, but nonetheless, here it is. The topic of Poem 4 is not liking something. Pretty broad. So that's that. What sort of things do you not like? Or, what sort of people pretend to know you so well when all they know are details about you? Does that make any sort of sense?

Photograph by Valerie Owens

And the picture has nothing to do with anything, but blogs with pictures tend to be more interesting. I suppose I could make some deep philosophical claim about how we are all stained glass windows and the distortion makes it hard to see the true view. But that would be foolish, so I won't.

Poem 2

STEPWIFE
Valerie Owens

I am not the dark eyed beauty he married
and lost.
I am not the woman he met on shores of Spanish sand--
the woman who spoke three languages,
bore him four sons
and made him a five course meal
for a tenth wedding anniversary.
I am not the Ivy League graduate,
wearer of pearls,
and PTA president.
I am not her.
Yet, our passion is pregnant
with thoughts of her.
She lies entangled in our midnight sheets
and taints the tenderness our kisses.
She twists her slender fingers
in and out of our arguments,
taunting our struggles
and mocking my tears.
He holds me loose in his arms
I feel as though I am suffocating him
with all that I am not.