“When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am.”

The Daily Post

Maya Angelou by Spanglej, CC BY-SA 2.0.Maya Angelou by Spanglej, CC BY-SA 2.0.

Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with deeper meaning.

Find a beautiful piece of art. If you fall in love with Van Gogh or Matisse or John Oliver Killens, or if you fall love with the music of Coltrane, the music of Aretha Franklin, or the music of Chopin — find some beautiful art and admire it, and realize that it was created by human beings just like you, no more human, no less.

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

The idea is to write it so that people hear it and it slides through the brain and goes straight to the heart.

When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am, who we are, what we’re capable of, how…

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Let Go and Let God?

I had a bit of an epiphany/Moment of Truth the other day. After being swamped with work (and feeling a bit lazy due to being in a lull), I finally sat down and started working on the novella (yes, that novella).

Now, I had read Stephen King’s “On Writing” not too long ago, and he talks about not using plot so much as creating characters with problems, and they work those problems out. So I took some of this in mind. I have a general idea of how I want the story to end, but nothing is set in stone. It’s more of a “what would he/she do?” in a situation. It requires putting on the skin of that character, to see everything through their eyes. I won’t say this is a painful process, but it most certainly draining. But I love that feeling.

So, I sat down and started writing. It felt good. And cathartic. And I felt that feeling of apprehensiveness was pretty much gone. I studied this feeling with great interest. I was her, and he was, well…him. But for the first time ever, I was her, but he wasn’t him. He was the character. And the words flowed. Because I no longer felt a sense of embarrassment. It’s hard to explain, but to me, this is more than just a story. It was therapy. But perhaps now, I no longer need this as therapy, but the story needs to be finished. So it can be buried. the final nail in the coffin (Or, maybe…just maybe…I’ll be invited to the Brooklyn Book Faare, heehee).

I got excited. Was the pain finally over? I wondered. I’ve noticed that those feelings of nostalgia and revenge were gone, almost. And I didn’t even have to ask myself, “How do you know when  you’ve let someone go?” Because you’ll just know. There isn’t some checklist for these things.

I dunno. It’s a feeling of lightness, of calmness and clarity.

So yeay for me! I live for these light bulb moment.s

 

Damaged Goods

An old flame barges back into your life and attempts to rewrite history. The history that left you damaged, its imprints etched deeply into your skin.  

Some people don’t understand that “I don’t ever want to speak to you again” means “I don’t ever want to speak to you again.” It doesn’t mean, oh, maybe she’ll have a change of heart or maybe things will change. Maybe these things will happen, but it’s not up to you to decide that you’ll “hurry” things along.

I recall that scene from Sex and the City where Carrie is outside Aiden’s apartment at night and she’s blathering about being sorry for hurting him and she misses him. And then he yells “YOU BROKE MY HEART!” THAT, that drove the point home.

I may not have been in love with you. But I really don’t appreciate when people take advantage of a situation and then try to get back on friendly terms, as if nothing happened.  I don’t forget anything.   And what’s even more insulting is the passive aggressive way it’s being done. Text messaging. Liking an old ass photo on Facebook.  Which means you were on my page and combed through my photos. Who does that?!

Ugh. Anyways. That’s out. And that felt good. Time to brood.

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Karma. And Randomness.

I recently came across an article on modern dating and the ugly truths of it. A lot of them were no-brainers and frustrating, like how people seem allergic to set plans, and they create these “maybe” plans that they’ll only go on if nothing “better” came along (I couldn’t date someone who did that, save for emergencies, obvy). And then the whole communicating through texting, which is horrifically impersonal. Yet I admit that I did that initially with my current beau: it took me a week until I actually talked to him on the phone. Texting was ok, because he could have been at work, or just didn’t want to answer (decisions, decisions!). And our first phone conversation was six hours or eight hours long. Whoa!

BUT….this was the one that caught my attention the most, and it was about karma. When things end ugly, some of us like to think that this person will get a huge dose of karma, and as quickly as possible. Well, sometimes, karma does come, but sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes, these people will just live their lives, and you’ll be left feeling miserable as shit.

I’m wondering why we think like this. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism. Oh, you cheated on me, so one day, someone will cheat on you! Ha! Oh, our engagement fell apart, I hope you end up getting some chick pregnant or contract an STD ha! And I can’t help but wonder if part of our motivation to succeed and do better in life is in the hopes of running into said person again, life in shambles, while we’re on the top of the world. And see that look of despair in their eyes, the one that says, “Damn. The good one got away.” And maybe they’ll grovel at your feet, begging, pleading for you to come back. And you’ll just look them in the eye and tell them, “HELL NO.”  And walk away, with your own 70s blaxploitation-style music playing in the background.

Oh, wouldn’t life be better that way?

I’m wondering if that’s why it’s even harder to let go of people. It’s something that a lot of people that I know suffer. It’s something I have suffered myself. I sometimes wonder, how does one know when you’ve let go of someone? What is the list?

But maybe….if you have to ask, then you probably aren’t.