Sloth, and much and more to do. I pay my membership just to stay elsewhere, it seems. Luckily, at nights like this when sleep eludes me, something rekindles in me. So here I am, a few months have passed, and a lot has changed again.
Some basic facts have changed. I am no longer single, and it is now certain that I will 'start' university in Scotland in September. I have also started to play the guitar, and enjoy a more social life than before.
I used to be afraid certain qualities are singular to people who pass through life alone, and in a certain loneliness. To a certain extent, I still believe that is true, as certain qualities can only be nurtured by empty time and an empty soul. Well, in some respects an empty soul, in others a very full one. It all depends on how one looks at it. I have feared qualities such as those that live under these conditions will diminish as the conditions change. For the longest time, I kept expecting my writing to wither and lose quality in correlation with my thoughts. Perhaps as a result of this line of thinking, I haven't written in a very long time, in fact, I have barely touched my dear black notebook at all. Despite this lull, I have faithfully carried it wherever I go. At this point I would feel almost naked and unsafe without it.
Perhaps all things require times of sleep, so to say, as has been the case with my writing. Perhaps, it has been the only right path to follow, to leave that in the background while developing other sides of myself, like the slightly imbalanced, watchful relationship side. What would life be without its slight and sometimes not so slight fluctuations? You gain some, you lose some. It is a matter of choice and chance.
It is between 3 and 4 in the morning, the Sun is coming up and the rain has ceased, as has the semiregular tapping of raindrops on the roof. I guess it would be wise to attack the bed again, and conquer the pillow. But the darn birds just started their monotonous song.
Some basic facts have changed. I am no longer single, and it is now certain that I will 'start' university in Scotland in September. I have also started to play the guitar, and enjoy a more social life than before.
I used to be afraid certain qualities are singular to people who pass through life alone, and in a certain loneliness. To a certain extent, I still believe that is true, as certain qualities can only be nurtured by empty time and an empty soul. Well, in some respects an empty soul, in others a very full one. It all depends on how one looks at it. I have feared qualities such as those that live under these conditions will diminish as the conditions change. For the longest time, I kept expecting my writing to wither and lose quality in correlation with my thoughts. Perhaps as a result of this line of thinking, I haven't written in a very long time, in fact, I have barely touched my dear black notebook at all. Despite this lull, I have faithfully carried it wherever I go. At this point I would feel almost naked and unsafe without it.
Perhaps all things require times of sleep, so to say, as has been the case with my writing. Perhaps, it has been the only right path to follow, to leave that in the background while developing other sides of myself, like the slightly imbalanced, watchful relationship side. What would life be without its slight and sometimes not so slight fluctuations? You gain some, you lose some. It is a matter of choice and chance.
It is between 3 and 4 in the morning, the Sun is coming up and the rain has ceased, as has the semiregular tapping of raindrops on the roof. I guess it would be wise to attack the bed again, and conquer the pillow. But the darn birds just started their monotonous song.
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
erosennin:
I don't really write per se, I just note down thoughts, comments or observations in a little notebook I carry with me wherever I go. Sometimes if inspiration hits me I write haiku poems, but it's been quite a while since I last did something like this. I guess lately I've been more focused on just experiencing, watching and stalling than writing. I got this feeling I ought to lay back for a while and stop using the pencil, since keeping up with the same routines may make the whole process feel more like a task than a pleasure. I must say this last year has been very eventful, and I could have written much more than I have. I've read a lot though. It seems I always try to read less books, as I plunge into them and sort of devour them without stopping in between. When I finish one, I start the next. It happens half accidentally, and I can't break the habit. Sometimes I feel it damages me. I was supposed to have a break after the last two I read (really enjoyed Kerouac's On the Road) but when I went to the library to get a few CD's I couldn't not get a book on reaching orgasms with influence from the East. At least this one's non-fiction=)
quirky:
I tag you!