I thought about photographing my crêpe
But then, I thought, then
It will no longer be solely mine.
The tree is still up in Portsmouth
Though nary a jingle in sight
The calendar’s leaning towards Easter
But still Yule in the Square’s the sight
Here’s a handwritten/scrawled poem. Because a) it’s easier than typing it out, and b) doesn’t it just look better this way?
As the publicist for the New Hampshire Film Festival, the festival weekend tends to be a complete whirlwind for me.This was my second year in this role for the festival, since joining Vital, the festival’s official marketing partner, in August of 2013. With 123 films screening this year, and over 100 last year, there are so many great stories to tell leading up to and throughout the weekend.
But this isn’t just an event about eating popcorn and watching movies. As NHFF Executive Director Nicole Gregg points out, there is something about the festival that makes the film experience so much more than pulling up a movie on Netflix. More than just bringing great independent film to the Portsmouth audience, NHFF also brings them the storytellers—and the story behind the telling.
Prioritizations passed down
From leaders, peers and self
Trying to put in order
Of most to least likely
To cause a crisis
If ignored
But then I escape
Rediscover
That childhood secret refuge
Look up — up — up
And
Who am I to ignore
This tree’s priority
Of being looked at
Of being appreciated
For its gnarled bark
Its high, reaching limbs
Stretching — stretching
Who am I to say that
The contemplation
Of what caused
That bend — and
That knot
Is less crucial
Than anything sitting in my inbox
I lost my grandmother in February.
I walked home from work swaddled in two hats, two scarves, two coats, two pairs of gloves, and two very toasty, sturdy boots. Foolishly, I only had on only one pair of pants.
Before the kickoff of NaNoWriMo 2014, I wrote this guest article over on tanyagold.com:
Ever wonder why there are three lengths of dashes, and if they each have a specific intended use (spoiler alert: they do!)? Or, mayhaps you hadn’t even noticed that there ARE varying lengths of dashes! Never worry — I’m here to help!
Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o’er wrought heart and bids it break.— William Shakespeare, Macbeth
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