My love for literature goes way, way back. I remember my parents reading to me as a young child, and I was truly mesmerized.  I listened to their breath change as they spoke the words on the pages.  I knew then that The Written Word and I would always be pals.

When I was a sophomore in high school, my English teacher left in the middle of the school year to take a job with a non-profit educational foundation.  His last day in the classroom was emotional, but it was particularly memorable for me because I saw a grown man cry freely over something that wasn’t sad.

You see, my friend Joelle’s tribute to him was reading this poem aloud, and it was the first time I was truly breathless over the power of literature. It winded me, just as sure as I had been sacked by a linebacker.  I saw Mr. C’s feelings crescendo as she spoke, and as his tears fell when she stopped speaking, all he said was, “thank you.”

Yet it’s surprising now, even after all these years, and as many times as I have read this poem, that it can still catch my breath. But then again, not such a surprise at all. And that’s the whole point.

————

‘I am cherry alive,” the little girl sang,
“Each morning I am something new:
I am apple, I am plum, I am just as excited
As the boys who made the Hallowe’en bang:
I am tree, I am cat, I am blossom too:
When I like, if I like, I can be someone new,
Someone very old, a witch in a zoo:
I can be someone else whenever I think who,
And I want to be everything sometimes too,
And I put it in along with everything
To make the grown-ups laugh whenever I sing:
And I sing : It is true; It is untrue;
I know, I know, the true is untrue,
The peach has a pit,
The pit has a peach:
And both may be wrong
When I sing my song,
But I don’t tell the grown-ups, because it is sad,
And I want them to laugh just like I do
Because they grew up
And forgot what they knew
And they are sure
I will forget it some day too.
They are wrong. They are wrong.
When I sang my song, I knew, I knew!
I am red, I am gold,
I am green, I am blue,
I will always be me,
I will always be new!”

“I am Cherry Alive,” by Delmore Schwartz

HI!

Oh hello.  I’m Amy.  Most people call me Bridges, which makes internet anonymity hard to achieve.  I’m a 39 year old artist, writer, environmentalist and comedian, although not professionally.

Here are a bunch of stupid facts of that are mostly superficial in nature.

My favorite colors are orange, lime green and hot pink, much like a sixth grader.  I’m bad at fashion and hate how clothes fit my body, so I would love to live in a barefoot, bra-less world of loose-fitting t-shirts and yoga pants.

I have long eyelashes, so naturally mascara is my #1 favorite thing on the planet.  This whole blog could be about mascara but according to user testing, it’s “not important” and “irrelevant” and “totally dumb.”

I love live music of all kinds.  I especially love if that live music has amazing harmony. I hate denial. I love reading. I love my cat, Otis Redding. I love debating, but I despise arguing.  I irrationally hate bell peppers.  I have an English degree and a great vocabulary but my favorite word is the F one. Making someone laugh is my daily goal.

I have a collection of crosses on the wall by the door in my apartment, a Buddha in my living room and another one in the bathroom. Mostly I believe that the universe’s* love, protection and grace is all that really matters.  I believe in giving someone a helping hand, personal responsibility and equality for all people.

Lastly, a note on Awesomeness:  When I pay attention to what I hear on television, and read on Facebook and Twitter, I hear non-stop messages about how I’m not accomplished enough, not married enough, not thin/smart/rich enough, how I don’t move my bowels or engage my core enough, etc.  (You get the picture.) After years of reflection, introspection, and self-awareness, finally, I have learned to say to myself, ENOUGH.  I’ve heard enough already. I am enough. I’ve started own mental b-roll and voice-over, chock full of how awesome I am.  Get ready to listen.

And when my awesomeness occasionally crosses the line to highfalutin, I remember the time I split my pants in the airport, and I regain perspective.

I really hope you enjoy your time here.

-Bridges

*God, Allah, Universe, Mother Oprah