Poetry v. The World: To cook

Hello everyone!

I hope you all are holding strong in these challenging final few days before break.

This weeks piece is on the topic of cooking and how it can be more than just something you do when you can’t afford anymore take-out.

I really do believe that there is something special to it. A friend of mine loves to see the first bite when someone tastes her food, she says seeing the person’s face makes all the work worth it. Now, she is probably a trillion times better than me at cooking in general, but I think the same rule generally applies. When I do cook, and I really put all of what I can into it, I don’t feel rewarded when I eat it myself, or even when I have it for leftovers the next day. It’s when I share it with my roommates and I know that they like it. That quiet acknowledgement in a mouthful of food is something else.

I also tried to illustrate how much artistry can go into cooking. I’m not at a level where this applies, but I’ve seen actual chefs who do it for more than just a living, you know? And they get the idea that what they are making is really keeping that person, their customer, alive. Like, poetry and movies are great and all, but no matter how many Shakespeare monologues you watch you’ll still be hungry. A cook has that genuine physical connection to their “audience”, which is so unique and beautiful. And obviously I agree that the need for things like poetry and other arts is just that, a need. But the yearning for purpose through language is different than just being super hungry, and I think it’s okay to celebrate that difference.

And then of course, you have the hypocrisy. I value the craft of cooking and admire those who are good at it so much, yet I almost always seem to resort to the cheap and quick meal at the end of the day. I have gotten better since I was a kid, but I’ve still a long way to go before I don’t reach for the Blue Box more often than not.

-Jonah J. Sobczak


Poetry v. The World: It’s morning

I wake up decently earlier, usually shooting for around 8:30 everyday. Nothing crazy, but enough to where I still get to enjoy a morning routine.

For about an hour from when I wake up to when I finish breakfast, I am in this odd state of mind. While I’m mostly awake, the adult, “get things done” part of me isn’t. None of my obligations have any weight to them, and I can just kind of boot up my systems without the pressures of reality that plague every other time of day. It’s a calm that I appreciate. Especially on a beautiful morning like this one, where I’m thankful my apartment has so many windows.

The concept for this poem actually came from a song called Goodmorning by Bleachers. He encapsulates the feeling of oblivion from when you first wake up, before anything sets in. The lines “One foot out and I knew the weight was coming/ cause I left it by the bed last night” in particular always stands out to me. It’s morning isn’t so much about the unconscious absence of mind, but rather the fact that the light grogginess of just waking up can dull my anxiety to a point where I don’t have to worry about anything. While our pieces don’t necessarily address the exact same feeling, I still think they come from the same vein.


Jonah Sobczak


Poetry v. The World: Election.Night

This was the first election that I have been apart of, and the first election night where I lost sleep over it. For most of my life, I didn’t really care about voting or politics in general. As a child they seemed distant, and as a young adult they seemed trivial. Even the 2016 election had little effect on me, before or after the results.

However, this year was different. I can’t tell you why, but for the first time I felt so unbelievably nervous about anything and everything surrounding it. I was checking the polls every two minutes, barely getting any work done at all. I talked to my friends about what we wanted and what needed to happen to get it. I was talking about electoral votes and deciphering which candidate needed what states to win and all the different outcomes. It was, to put it simply, exhausting.

This poem is meant to capture a lot of the different feelings that I felt on Tuesday night. My anxiety and how thinking about certain scenarios made me cringe inside, the rollercoaster of either excitement or despair depending on which way the states were swinging, and even guilty at how others will be much more affected than I am with the results. But I think the idea I wanted to convey the most was how tired I was of it. It is very clearly important and I believe that whole-heartedly, but I would be lying if I didn’t miss those days when I was a kid and I wasn’t sympathizing with all the adults who had to worry about the news headline the next morning. It was nice and didn’t raise my blood pressure at all. My young self had that privilege, and I do not. I voted, and like a normal person, I was concerned for my country’s future. And that’s how I held onto my sanity, and how I still am.

-Jonah J. Sobczak



Poetry v. The World: washing clothes


I’m not sure if any one can share the same sentiment, but I feel like washing clothes is such a hassle. I think I can be productive between loads, but, since each break is kinda small, I can never be productive and just end up wasting that time. Rinse (no pun intended) and repeat.

However, for the few minutes I spend putting in the clothes and listening to music, I feel relaxed. It’s hard to describe. My mind normally moves at a really fast pace, but something about the mindless act of throwing clothes into a washer numbs it to a slower pace. So I can actually enjoy certain things about my life that I usually view in a much more anxiety-ridden mindset. However, this smooth motion between different thoughts in my head can be dangerous as well. If I unconsciously bring up something negative, that negativity can spread everywhere. It smears onto the next thought and that smears to the next in a vicious cycle.

This kind of functions as the motor behind the piece. How even the thing that feels most healthy for your brain in the moment can turn into something just as toxic as the rest of your day. Those few moments before it turns rotten seem so productive in its own way, but then it quickly turns and all progress is lost. Honestly, it’s more disheartening than anything.


Jonah J. Sobczak

Poetry v. The World: Hot Showers


How many other vlogs start out with a shower scene!?

I’m a big fan of very long, very hot showers. It’s an interesting feeling, being in the shower and just not being able to turn the water off. I always just assumed I was still tired and the water was similar to being under the covers in my pocket of tempered air and that’s why my body didn’t want to leave. But then came this poem.

The idea for this poem surfaced when I read a post from a “science facts” Instagram account (as all great art does). It said that people who take long, hot showers are usually incredibly lonely. It claimed that the warmth of the water serves as a substitute for the warmth of human contact, such as from a loved one. When I read this, I’ll admit I was vaguely offended, but I was also intrigued. Suddenly a constant part of my life was ripped into a new perspective. I do, generally feel lonely, but are the showers really are result of that? Usually I say no, and I just think warm water feels nice on your skin, regardless of who you can cuddle up to at night. However, sometimes I wonder if the handle would be easier to turn if I just had someone waiting for me when I got out.


Jonah Sobczak