The Rose

A LETTER TO YOU, THE READER, SO THAT YOU CAN FINALLY FIGURE OUT WHAT I’M THINKING.

—————————————

THIS MONTH: Moving Another Rubber Tree Plant

————————————————–

“Just what makes that little old ant
Think he’ll move that rubber tree plant?
Anyone knows an ant, can’t
Move a rubber tree plant!

But he’s got high hopes, he’s got high hopes
He’s got high apple pie, in the sky hopes!

So any time your gettin’ low,
‘stead of lettin’ go,
just remember that ant!
Oops! There goes another rubber tree plant!”

-excerpt from “High Hopes” by Frank Sinatra (Lyrics by Sammy Cahn)

Dear Reader(s),

Yesterday night, I was walking back to my car from Kresge Library, when I saw an extremely large black mass ahead of me on the sidewalk. As I drew nearer, I realized it was a creeping, moving, pushing, shoving, hustling, bustling “party” of black ants. The disgusting, yet interesting display, caused me to pause in wonder; because, I had never seen such a sight- black ants spread like a living blob of tar filling a pothole over an entire section of curb-line- like that before. Someone must have spilled a good deal of their lunch on the curb- or something!

As I walked on, immediately, my thoughts were diverted to that song about the ant moving the rubber tree plant (“High Hopes”). Those ants were not moving a rubber tree plant, but they were vigorously moving something integral to their survival. It made me remember how strong ants actually are, despite their small size. And then, I starting thinking about how that applies to me.

This October, theoretically, I believe I will be the ant trying to move a rubber tree plant. Now that I feel more settled at O.U., it’s time to do the impossible. It’s time to just continue doing what I’ve already been doing… minus the exhausted/overwhelmed part.

Yet, despite my good intentions, time continues to go by quickly over here. For example, I have no idea when I will be free to be poetic again. Writing time seems to be scarce these days because there is absolutely no time to think about anything but my studies. Similarly, in the summer, when I threw myself into work, my poetic juices seemed to be stagnated. The ever-so annoying result: I haven’t actually (gasp) written any poetry in 3 months. Where has the time gone? I say!

Thus, it is time for me to descend on the task at hand (school, work, poetry, ect.) and just do it. And, on that note, I’m going to go to class and continue studying for my midterm tomorrow. Poetically speaking, let’s just call that a “rubber tree plant”.

Well, that’s all for now! Have a great month! Heave, ho!

Sincerely, Your Author,

Jessica Anne McLean