To be honest;
Date: Jun 24th, 2008 10:11:57 pm - Subscribe
Mood: jumbled
Music: death cab
I've been avoiding writing much, or just avoiding issues by sticking someone else's words in here in quotes, or hardly writing anything at all.
To be honest, I'm cold, turned on and kind of tired. Tired; although for most of the day I did almost nothing of greatness. Watched Juno again, listened to soundtracks, ate and.. oh, I actually started a book. Well technically, I started reading one last night; Richard Pelzer's, the one that always makes me cry reading nearly every paragraph of the first chapter. No wonder I don't get very far before I call it a night, the tears draining me so much; and I feel as if the book is too much to take.
I remember thinking last night about the power of words. It's funny how you can have the same subject thoughts over again and never come to any plausible conclusion on what you were thinking about. Words are strong, words are beautiful and overflowing and sometimes can be baffling; energetic or depressing, loving or hating. Words can defuse terrible situations, words can save lives and can be open and allow your imagination to run away with you. No doubt, words can be hurtful and negative, and in some situations; just plain wrong.
I've been thinking a lot about words. Words have been a core component of my survival.
So you may be thinking, 'this girl's a little crazy droning on about "the power of words" and she should shut up and move on to something more interesting.'
I do often ramble, but it's because I have all these words at my mind's disposal that I don't want to stop. Words can say little or a lot. Nothing or everything. I used to read a lot growing up; from as far back as the age of 2 or 3. I used to be read to, I used to learn of stories through picture books; I used to read and practice my letters of the alphabet. I remember having lots of books as a child. Many may have called me a 'bookworm' or the startings of an introvert.
I remember reading all sorts. From fairytales to long poems; those 'press the buttons as you go along reading' books and the series of Goosebumps or the Wondercrump Poetry. I still have some of my old books; I started reading proper novels, aimed for more younger adults than anyone else, when I was just 9.
We went to the York Dungeons in York one long weekend, I remember scoring 3 books from then. So much excitement amongst sucking on aniseeds and all those smiles. Anyway, from Dahl to Gaiman; words have inspired me, taken me away, led my imagination astray. They have helped me think of future escapes, what it can be like, what i can achieve. they've given me hope and witty one-liners and an extensive vocab amongst a lot more. And it's not only fiction, sometimes non-fiction; true tales are really nice.
At one point I wanted to become a writer; my former friend Emily Heizler (who left to move to Soho... aka Solihull when we were 10) had previously published a short story book about a cat, with the guidance of her grandfather. I wanted so badly to get something of mine published but knew my ideas were far too big; and my stories were too good to really share with the world. Later on, my talent was indirectly crushed; by my parents of course. 'Writers sit around and do nothing for months until they finally get all the inspiration they need to finish a book... then, only the lucky ones get paid; because it depends on how many copies an author sells.. and you wouldn't want to take a job chancing like that.'
It is true, but I've been thinking that writing could be my career. Wouldn't pay tons, unless I was well renowned like J.K. Rowling or someone. But, you know, I could try.
Of course all my inspiration and constant writer's block/avoidance at this stage isn't a good sign.
Nonetheless, I think if I got that help, I could do whatever I wanted. Right now it feels like the scale only has two options; seek real good help or plunge for the depths of death. I am passionate about helping others, but maybe a book is a good starting place? Psychologists are always writing self-help, parenting books, articles and others.
If I could live by an ocean, or in a warm and quiet-ish little town where there were lizards and cool creatures. If I could have a guy with me, there to take in all the beauty of everything; really appreciating it. Money not being an obstacle or something we desperately need. We could grow our own food and occassionally order take out. I would love to be pregnant, have children screaming and playing about the masses of land around us. It was be awesome, inspiring; and.. this is strangely reminding me of Canada and all the sights, scenes and smells about The Rockies.
Gosh, If I could; I would.
P.S. (although I don't know why I am doing so on this entry..) Haven't had my period in a good close to seven weeks. :/
May have to go see a dr if nothing happens next week.
Pregnancy wishes come true? Ahah.
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