Left perplexed trying to explain,

but letters keep obstructing my way,

roadblocks between me and what I want to convey.

I refuse to follow a recipe. This has led to epic baking mishaps becoming legend in my circle. I know that I must follow most rules. I follow them while driving, while writing research papers, at my job. I don’t want to follow them in my kitchen. I started out cooking with my mother and we always followed a recipe, so I internalized the basic concepts. Now, if I want to make something, I look at the ingredients and then improvise. After years of cooking this way, there is a flow to the experience I find freeing. 

I think of writing in a similar way. I want language to flow easily. I believe format and grammar should be studied and understood as the origins of a specific type of communication, and then used only when not a hindrance to honest, vibrant writing. I want to know the rules so I can ignore them, so I can reach that place of fluidity. I argue that any student of any subject should want the same – to know it well enough to turn it on it’s end, rip it apart, find out what works best for them, and be confident enough to defend their position. 

I rip my voice out at it’s root, tear it out and hold it in front of me, try to turn my back on it but this disembodied voice in my hand turns me back around and facing it squarely now, I realize it’s weight and it pulls me to the ground.

I’ve spent most of my life attempting to hold back my voice. I believed, I might still believe, that I must focus on research areas that will result in a conventional career, that my passion for the arts will never produce a stable income. I’m currently at a critical point where I’m beginning to understand how I might bring together a research focus that could develop into a career and include my interest in arts and culture.

Poem by Dawn Kinstle, used with permission