These Dreams Will Not Wither Inside of Me

It’s 5:29 in the morning yet I’m at my most alert, despite being awake the entire night. An internal fire has begun and I’m tending to it now through the words you’re reading.

Lately the thing I hate about myself the most is how I talk and write about these honestly wonderful ideas, but have made no movement forward beyond some minor note taking. For months now, perhaps many. When I try to start, I get overwhelmed and tear up, mostly over foolish men, and other moments where I feel like no one will ever romantically love me. Or even want to.

It’s hard to see yourself as lovable when you don’t love yourself in the first place.

I’m beginning to, at least giving credence to the idea that I deserve to. I try to be good to others and loving, being affectionate and giving gifts. I’m totally shit at accepting it though. Kind, sweet, overflowing encouragement makes me want to run for some insecure reason. I think it’s because it’s rough for me to believe I deserve it. Even a sincere two line compliment keeps me silent. I don’t think they’re lying and this is how they perceive me. But something prevents me from saying thank you immediately. They all get read, but no reply.

It’s cold I know, but it’s also overwhelming. It’s really hard to justify my self-loathing when I see something real sweet that I know deep down inside I deserve it. I struggle with maintaining a kind self-portrait so maybe that’s why I’m quiet and just don’t acknowledge it to them. I really need to see a therapist lol ugh.

Anyway, I have a bunch of ideas I want to see through to fruition. Open calls I want to submit to, experimental essays, newsletter, book reviews, this damn blog haha.

I’m sorely lacking in follow through, but filling out my 2017 sketchbook project that was empty for too many years, for the #SuperFilipinaChallenge has been so much fun. I slacked off hard though but I’m going to try to catch up and at least fill out one more entry this morning.

It’s hosted by Super Filipina, whose own daily poetry writing led to her publishing her own book which I highly recommend. Really love her account, check her out.

Only posted the first three days on IG. I think I’ll eventually post them all, just want to let them ferment on the page and in my head a bit. It feels really good to write it all out and use my vintage dymo label maker. I adore using my glass dip pen and seeing the aftermath. I just hope it’s legible haha.

Filling in each page gives me some hope, some light that I can finish my projects. I hate how I get daunted by my ideas and all the effort I have to use to complete them. Even just putting down my goals and updating my Taste Victory notebook got me frozen for way too long yesterday. I didn’t even write anything, that’s the sad part.

There’s another project I’d like to do:

Art in a Box 9 – Isolation by Teetotum

Art in a Box is an exchange art box with 20 participant artists.
Each participant has to send 20 artworks, numbered and signed. The size can be up to 15x21cm.

A priority order is kept and the box closes when the 20 entries have received.

If the box is closed, the artworks that are left out, go to the next box.
Each box is numbered and each participant receives a box with 20 different artworks.

The participation fee is € 10 and covers the cost of the box and the shipping postage.

We accept all the techniques on paper (except photocopies), photographs, collages, engravings, mail art, handmade booklets, short stories, poems, short stories or anything that fits in a box!

Cool, right? There’s a deal at CVS where if you purchase a min. of 100 photo prints, you can get them at 20 cents each. Which is 20 bucks. I was thinking of making a photo of something I write through Phonto and get 30 copies for 3 different pieces. Not sure what the leftover would be, maybe I’ll push it to 33. It expires on 12/18 so I think I’ll work towards that. No deadline for the project itself though I would get the final spot if no one has mailed in anything yet. In any case it could go towards the next box.

I want to make like a booklet, connected through a brad so you can swivel the pages to reveal the next. The photos would act as bookends and a middle. The inners would be from some pretty paper I already have. Just not sure what to write.

Maybe a game you can play in isolation. Or a questionnaire you can fill out alone. Or building your own imaginary friend? Hrm.

I’ll figure it out, I just want to make it special and surprising.

My goal is not to buy anything new besides the photos. Still need to figure out where the brads are but I think I have enough.

Okay I feel better now. I’m a lot more resolute that I’ll get things done the way I want and need them to. I’m more than capable of creating my dream projects. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. Plus I have a strong support system who will help me light a fire under my ass haha.

I hope you cross off a goal before the year is through. May your outcomes amaze you in the best way.

Here for it.

eileen

Adored Ephemera – pages 10 & 11

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Pages 10 & 11 of my sketchbook project “Adored Ephemera”

I haven’t updated about my sketchbook project “Adored Ephemera” since last year. Hopefully this 2018 I’ll finally finish blogging about this and mail it already. Here’s pages 10 & 11. If you want to see what I have so far blogged, go here. To get your own sketchbook project, check out: https://sketchbookproject.com/

Page 10

Seeing a polaroid of fresh snow with a poem titled “The First Day of Spring” feels timely given the weather in the Northeast. Though it looks like things will get warmer this weekend, hopefully haha. When I took this photo from my porch, I think this was done in winter though, a few years back. I like the way I laid it out on top of a lacy doily. And beneath the poem is this:

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I love this illustration of flowers. I believe I got this ephemera from a package I got from Ari Bird. Here’s the poem

The First Day of Spring

You’re a snowfall landing on the Spring Equinox. Unexpected and perhaps unwelcomed but I love your magic anyway. The way your words dance in the air that I swear I can see shooting stars. How you brighten the darkest nights just by being you. How you softly touch me and slowly accumulate until I see an avalanche of love. You make everything feel like a wonderland. You make all things new again. I want to start the world over with you. Let’s rename the flora and fauna, create
our own strange paradise. Watch God hand make oceans, ridges, and volcanoes. We’ll marvel at our bodies and how they fit perfectly together. We’ll write and draw
the greatest works of art and you’ll be my first model, my only muse. And I’ll be your warm, sunny day on the Fall Equinox, shining for you when you expected a chill.

This poem makes me feel warm and cuddly. I hope I find someone who makes me think of this work. Be like “Oh, you’re the reason I wrote this.” Years later but still haha.

Page 11

I took a polaroid of a Burger King chicken fries and French fries, beside the fast food paper bag, which I later cut out as the background for this page.

Fast Food

You’re so bad for me but I want you anyway.
Grease, fat, and oil, you’re worth the
overeating, the weight gain. This pudge is
from you, for you. Deep fried carbs, extra
salted goodness, I crave at your scent. My
mouth waters for your dead body. You’re
worthless cholesterol, toxic to my cells,
fakeass nutrients, but goddamn look at you!
How can I resist? You utterly destroy my
temple, make a farce of my diet, and you’re
so hard to lose but I win when I eat you
out. You’re so cheap, fast, and easy to
get. You put all other foods to shame with
your quick access and convenience. You’ll
always be #1 in my heart cause you’re the
#1 cause of my artery blockage. But I can
never turn my baby away. I’ve known you all
my life from chicken nugget finger food to
scarfing down a juicy burger on a late
night food run. You fill my emptiness with
emotional, delicious overeating. You
complete my fatass.

It’s been a long while since I wrote tongue in cheek, funny ode. They’re usually to food lol. Actually in this same sketchbook project, I had one on Artichoke Pizza. *drools* I must return.

I’m craving Popeye’s right now. I’ve been thinking about it all day lol. Maybe I’ll get it tomorrow. I shouldn’t though, but it’s calling meeeeee.

I need to stop satisfying every frivolous desire. I’d save more money that way. And self-respect haha.

Probably won’t though,

eileen

Adored Ephemera – pages 8 & 9

Adored Emphemera 8 and 9

It’s been awhile since I’ve updated my sketchbook project 2015 posts. Here’s pages 8-9. If you want to see what I have so far blogged, go here. To get your own sketchbook project, check out: https://sketchbookproject.com/

Page 8

I smeared make up and nail polish on the page from the makeup you see in the picture. It’s probably the last time I used most of them. Here’s what the poem says:

At what cost do we cover up our blemishes and flaws?
Do we lose our chance to truly reveal ourselves to those we
love, by hiding our unsightliness?
Can we honestly love someone who pretends to be perfect?
Why are we so afraid of being ugly when it’s so relatable,
when it’s how we connect to mythical and biblical heroes?
It’s not just the face but the hideous behavior that draws
us in.
To remind ourselves that we can rise and fall just like
them.
Perfection is boring and overrated. The ideal is not real.
And I’d rather hold something that’s dirty and marred than
an object pristine and immaculate.
Perfection belongs on museum walls and in special effects.
Not in my clumsy, smeared hands, not by my erroneous touch.

So hold me bare. Let me feel your actual scarred skin.
The only color s I need to see are the ones reflected in your
eyes.
I want you as you are.
I love you as you are.
You are beautiful without the make-up product.
You’re beautiful because of your choices’ product.
All our mistakes and missteps led us here
and the only perfect choice I ever made was adoring you.
Put away your shadows and concealers
and let your real skin breathe.
I promise you that you’ll glow the you’re always
meant to be: natural and divine


This felt timely to read again as I sometimes feel ugly with my adult acne face, with pockmarks and scars and such. But I’m starting to like myself more, taking only a few selfies to settle on a photo I like when usually takes me a dozen.

Here’s a selfie I took at Dunkin’ Donuts yesterday:

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I love my smile here and my entire outfit was cute. I appreciate my chipmunk cheeks a lot more too. And this was with no make-up so yay!

I’ve become a lot more honest within my writing and when conversating. More vulnerable than ever before and I think that’s a good thing. It means I’m sincere and genuine and trying to build a strong connection.

I get scared that one day I’ll want to delete this blog, my facebook, and other social media. That I’ll regret sharing a post, which is something I’ve done before. So I’ve been trying ensure that I stand behind my writing. And I think they deserve merit, hopefully.

But I will stand behind this poem. I love it. And the next prose piece I’ll share as well.


Page 9

It’s a polaroid of my bare bedroom wall, with a spotlight flash on the center. And I chose pretty paper background to make it look like ornate wallpaper.

Portrait of Myself

I want you to see yourself in the light I see you in. you’re kind, sincere, devoted, and wonderful. I don’t understand how you can believe you’re this horrible, useless monster. Your mind scares you more than you’ll ever truly frighten someone else.
You’re not a cruel person; you ached when you realized you killed
a houseplant, when you witnessed a fly die by the car window.
You’ve known loss and hurt and you remain beautiful, maybe even more so. You’d never damage someone though you thought about it in flashes and let them disintegrate. Don’t be afraid of the light. It’s warm, curing, and effervescent. Let it shine on you and reveal just how worthy you really are. Let it dispel the darkness that shadows your heart. All the notions that you’re overwhelmingly awful. Let the light seep in your veins and expel the bullshit out. You’re so much sweeter than these sour concepts you have of yourself. Did you know that the person who has harmed you the most is you? Please be good to yourself. There’s only one of you. And the world would be at a loss if you were gone. You mean more to your loved ones than you’ll ever realize. Don’t slip your love away. Believe me. I love you.


I’ve been meaning to write a love letter to myself but this is pretty good. I think I’ll still do it though. I wrote this to counteract the self-loathing I felt. And I think it worked. I definitely don’t feel it as bad as I used to. And I hope I never will again.

Also, my name, Eileen, means “light” by the way. And I also mean the spotlight as well, letting myself speak my truth and putting myself out there. I wrote this before I performed at open mics and onstage. Before I had that courage and fortitude to do so. Now I believe my past words more than ever. This was just sweet to read and I hope the next love letter I write to myself will be imbued with this much affection and care.

See you at 10,

eileen

Codependency: A Poem

I was too late to submit to the July issue of Visual Verse which is:

An anthology of art, poetry, short fiction and non-fiction.

We supply a compelling image and invite writers – published or unpublished – to submit a piece in response. There is a catch: you must write it within one hour and it must be between 50 and 500 words.

Compelling right? I enjoy their images though I consistently submitted for them, sadly. Though I got published by them months ago with my poem “Beacon“. Visual Verse actually tweeted it:

Succinctly explains the whole premise that I never caught on til I read the tweet lol. I wish I wrote this latest poem before the deadline just so I can see what they would’ve written but oh well.

Anyway, that featured image above is a photography by Oscar Keys. Here’s his site and this is his facebook page. I wonder if he knows that there are scores of writing that was inspired by this singular, evocative photo? What surprises to treasure and hoard, damn.

Without further ado, here’s the poem:

Codependency

By Eileen Ramos

Why can’t you let me go?
You bind me with soft caresses
and gentle threats.
You manipulate nostalgia
and dying love embers
to withhold me
from moving forward with my life.

You remind me of all the sweet love
you bestowed upon me while omitting
how bitter,
how rotten,
and how hollow
it tasted.

…but why can’t I allow YOU to let me leave?

And why do I always end up craving you?

Your overbearing grip is soothing to me.
Your loving stranglehold on our past
makes my future so desperate
without you.
Your sweet nothings make me feel
like an adored nothing.
You blind me to who I truly am,
to my full potential, but God
our grasp is so soft
and so cold.

I find a true comfort
in my dread of you.
A blooming power
when I deny you.
Adrenaline when I’m sunk deep
into our shared drama.
And such delight when you
distract me from all
my dreams and realities.

You’re a bruising escape
from responsibilities and aspirations.
A pain I feel I deserve.
You’re the guilt I proudly bear
and the excuse I worn out
from shirking from the stars
within my reach.

You’re the fear I follow,
the reason I’m fallow,
and the nurturing pillow
I want to smother
and still
over my faltering fugly face.

With you I was enough,
and the world was so full.

And now,
without you
I’m truly not
and the world is emptier
than I ever witnessed before.

I don’t know how to move on
without you holding me back.

I acknowledge this
debilitating addiction,
this reason for insanity,
but I don’t want to leave
the one obsession
that made me feel whole
and unforgotten.

Is it bad to hold
onto someone so cruel
despite your loss of growth,
peace, and well-being
just to know you haven’t failed
at being noticed,
hoarded,
and adored?

Hold me closer.
There’s too much
room between
us.

I confess I didn’t write this within a whole hour, I went touch and go throughout a few hours, so I guess it was good I didn’t get publish for the integrity of site.

I wonder if any of my imagery matches the other images from the other works in this issue? I’d like to find out, but right now, I’ll keep this vision unique and mine until tomorrow.

I’d love to know what you saw in this photo. What it conjured within you. What did it evoke inside you?

It feels damn good to write poetry again. Just to write in general really, but especially this medium.

I should do it more often.

eileen