Happy Birthday, Just in Queso!

This blog-child of mine has officially been in existence for one year now! Yay! In honor of this event, I’ve decided to write an EPIC  poem that shamelessly links back to previous posts.

Just to be clear, I’m not calling it “epic” in order to compliment it. (Although I DO compliment my blog. I love you, blog. You’re beautiful.) No, an epic poem is one that is long, and usually about some sort of heroic feat.  The definition doesn’t stipulate what “long” means, nor does it specify what entails a “heroic feat,” so I’m going to take advantage of this loophole and refer to my work here as epic.

After all, one MIGHT say that keeping a blog is a heroic feat. I don’t know who that person is, but they very well could exist.

I’m just going to leave this here and back away slowly before you can argue with me…

It’s my one-year blogiversary
And of that, I’m pretty proud
So I thought I’d write a little ditty
Reliving my posts out loud.

How many posts have I written?
The answer’s one hundred and seven.
And in a moment of poetic perfection,
My followers are two hundred and eleven.

As you may have figured out by now,
I am a dedicated fan of cheese
I’ve tested many quesos in this joint
In search of the ones that please.

Texican Café’s was too greasy, and
Super Taco’s was way too thin.
Chili’s was a revelation:
Calling that shit “queso” should be a sin.

Shady Grove was pretty good, but
Even better was Jack Allen’s Kitchen
I could really go for some of that right now
That pork was really bitchin’.

The most recent trip: Texas Chili Parlor;
The journey started with Kerbey Lane.
Sazon was in the lead for months,
Until Mamacita’s set us aflame.

Some quesos are spooned in tortillas
Others have been dipped with chips
Some let us make our own concoctions
But they all had us licking our lips.

Let’s move on from queso now
‘Cause I could talk about it hours.
Don’t believe me? Read this love poem
That stuff has magical powers.

I’ve written about my hatred of birds
And my love for all things dolphin
I’ve admitted my desire to kidnap dogs,
Which would be an easy feat in Austin.

I’ve  penned a letter to my router
And another to my laptop
I’ve made a Christmas drinking game
And I’ve narrowly escaped a cop.

Let me think what else I’ve done
Oh! I’ve house-sat like a boss.
I’ve learned a lot from Jerry Springer,
And I’ve also defended Ross.

At times I’ve confessed to telling lies
Like that time I called 911
Or that genius scheme to steal all the chocolate,
Or what I do for Sunday fun.

My family isn’t safe from spotlight –
You’ve heard about Mom, Dad, and Grandma.
They weren’t too thrilled with my “pantyless” tale
(But they should be used to my choices by now.)

In an ideal world I’d include ALL my posts
But that poem would be meters long.
My brain is too full of useless info,
But for my finale: here’s the carb song.

Thank you to everyone who’s taken the time over this past year to read my posts, and even better, leave comments with your thoughts! I love you all, and if I were having a birthday party for my blog, I’d totally invite you over for cake. Unless the cake was that multi-layer fudgy chocolate kind, and then I’m not sharing any. You understand.

I’ve had a lot of fun so far, and am looking forward to the next kabillion years of blog-keeping! ❤

blogiversary

The Look I’m Going for is “Lobster”

Each week, I like to pop over to Mind and Life Matters to read all the submissions to Rashmi’s weekly limerick challenges. She presents some sort of theme (such as envy or superstition) that everyone has to follow, and it’s entertaining to read the different spins that various bloggers take on it! Some are lighthearted and silly, and others are darker and more mysterious.

I’ve never participated in the challenge before, but as soon as I saw this week’s theme (color), an idea popped in my head, so I decided to give it a try:

A girl on a trip to the shore,
Didn’t like her pale skin and she swore,
She wanted a tan,
So she lay on the sand,
Hours later, she was reddened and sore.

sunburned

One Word Inspiration: Secret

secret1

A few days ago, I signed myself up for a Blogging University course called “Everyday Inspiration.” For 20 days, WordPress sends you a daily assignment to help you strengthen your writing muscles.

They encourage you to publish the stuff you come up with, but I’ve decided to only post certain things.  After all, my blog centers around cheese (both in food and joke form), and it’s sometimes challenging to brie funny and lighthearted with these assignments.

Couldn’t resist fitting in a quick cheese pun 😉

Day Three (today’s) assignment was to choose a one-word prompt from a set list and interpret it in the way you see fit. The word I selected was “Secret,” and I decided to make a poem out of it. It’s a bit darker and more serious than what I usually do – never fear, I’ll return to the silliness soon 🙂

Secret

A secret, a secret
Burning a hole
Squeezing my mind,
Hurting my soul.

This secret, this secret
Longs to come out
I’m holding it in –
But dying to shout.

My secret, my secret
Maybe I’ll tell…
My mind might calm,
My thoughts might quell.

But then it’d be out there
Careless, unsafe
No taking it back
No choice but to wait.

Secrets, oh secrets:
Everyone’s got one
Some are harmless,
None are forgotten.

This secret, this secret
Still causing me pain
Seizing my heart
Wounding my brain.

My secret, my secret
Why can’t I tell?
Too many risks –
My conscience is hell.

The whole point of the course is to strengthen my writing skills, so any feedback would be appreciated! Again, I don’t usually do poems (unless they’re fun ones about dolphins), but feedback regarding this post is likely to be helpful for my other posts as well.

And for my fellow blogger friends – if you’ve never done one of these courses, I recommend trying one at some point! The assignments definitely have me thinking and writing in ways that I don’t normally consider.

 

 

This Probably Isn’t Normal: A Poem

normal-r

One night in college, after a series of relatively minor but unfortunate events, I found myself unable to go to sleep because I couldn’t stop checking my alarm clock. I was sitting up in my bed, lights out and sound machine on, unable to put down the clock, no matter how sleepy I got, or how crazy I felt.

The thoughts and behaviors I was experiencing back then are often associated with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, BUT I am not assigning this diagnosis to my situation, because I never actually sought help for the issue, nor received a professional opinion. Also, I do think that the label is casually tossed around way too often, and I don’t want to contribute to that.

This post started out as a regular ol’ narrative, but I soon found myself wanting to make a poem out of it. If you’ve read my previous poem, you’ll know I’m no poet – but I have fun with them anyway, even when they’re relatively serious 😉

Once upon a time
During college – junior year
I developed a nasty habit
That sprouted from a fear

I overslept one morning,
And this bothered me to my core
Because I would be very late for class
By the time I walked out the door

I fretted my professor would hate me,
Or at least find me careless or daft
I made up my mind to be more careful
And this is where the universe laughed.

You see, as “fate” would have it,
I had set my alarm wrong again
What kind of person makes this error TWICE?
That thought got under my skin.

I knew that I was only human
And humans make mistakes
But I was really angry with myself
And I refused to give me a break

The habit started simply enough
At night, I’d double-check my alarm
Then “just one check” grew to two, then three
I didn’t think it’d be any harm

I’m sure you can tell where this is going:
My “checks” snowballed to 50+ times
I couldn’t stop thinking about my alarm,
And I became anxious at every bedtime

What if the time is set wrong?
Or what if it’s set to p.m.?
What if the clock somehow turned off?
…Maybe I’ll just check it again

I’d make myself exhausted
I’d cry from the aggravation
My rational side tried taking power,
But the logic train had left the station

My body’s primal need for sleep
Would finally, blessedly, take over
But should I awaken in the night
The thoughts would just carry right over

Anxiety is its own kind of torment
A prison from which there’s no escape
I often felt I was holding myself together
With Elmer’s glue and pieces of tape

With some time and a lot of effort
I broke myself of the madness
But I still get nervous that it wouldn’t take much
To just slip back into the practice.