Red Does 'Research'

I'm sitting here next to a stack of notebooks. (I have this weird fetish with having to have one for everything.) Problem is I don't really get around to labeling them, and no matter how many I have I can't ever seem to find one when I need it, so I just grab whichever is near.

I thought it might be fun to dig up an old poem, and no matter what the notebook was SUPPOSED to be for, there is bound to be one or a dozen poems with in the pages of any one of them.

So I pick one up just now and wouldn't you know it, it just happens to be the one I've been using for work.

WORK. Blah. I didn't want to be reminded that I have WORK to do!

Now I have guilt.

Gee, look at the time. I'd be doing myself and my client a great disservice by doing ANY work for them at this time.

BUUAATT.... I probably COULD go do some 'research'. Yeah, that's it. Research. To a writer, reading things that other people write, is research.

Suddenly i'm not so tired. I've got WORK to do!

A poem from with in my red head...

Except When It Comes From You...

I march to the beat of my very own drum. I feel like this today- but tomorrow who knows what I will become. I'm a butterfly in my own right- but it's ok if I only appear to be a moth in flight.

I am what I am, people's opinions don't even make me blink- except when it comes from you and what you think.

I don't care if I go unnoticed or if I stick out in a crowd. I might fly under the wire, or live out loud. It really doesn't matter to me, whether or not they can figure me out. But I need you to know what I'm all about.

Why do I care if any one disapproves? Why should I worry about fitting into the grooves?

I am what I am. People's opinions don't even make me blink. Except when it comes to you and what you think.

I don't put much weight in all that other racket. I don't put my eggs all in one basket. I don't lean on tradition or always do what's customary. In fact you'll find, I do things to the contrary.

It really doesn't matter to me whether or not they can figure me out. But I need you to know what I'm all about.

Tell me, why do I care, so careful about what I share? I put my life on a shelf for display each and every day. But you got me walking a tightrope, so afraid of what you might say. I don't need for them to think I matter as much as I sometimes think I do. I don't need anyone's approval-

...except when it comes from you. Red 03-04-08