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| dead umbrellas. the rain came down in minneapolis today and with it my
inspiration returned. i strive to live an inspirational life but there
come times where silence pervades, sometimes perhaps because one has
lost all sense of hope of expression and other times because we find
ourselves caught up in experiencing the life set before us. i had found
myself in the latter. i am settling into my adult life and i love it. i
have heard that when happy, writers and poets (all artists for that
matter) are less active in the creative endevours, perhaps depression,
hopelessness, lonliness, and the general dark cloud that takes up
residence in hard times provide some form of catalyst for the brilliant
artist, but i have issue with this idea. why should the voices of
countless poets and writers be silenced simply because the sky is
blue and the sun is shining? so i shall write not because my heart
weighs so heavy with anguish that if i don't write words my soul may
burst but because expression is exactly that, expression, and i will be
true to the expression of me right now...
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| i can't find my words for yesterday like my tongue is searching for a way to form itself whilst simultaneously my brain can't actually think of real words. i want something to make sense of this, of me, of life, of the future. i was not happy with myself yesterday. i was not myself at any moment yesterday. there was nothing for me to say last night and all day, all my knowledge is nothing, in fact do i have any? | | |
| " Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative [or creation] there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definately commits oneself, then Providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one that would otherwise never have occured. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man would have believed would have come his way."
from W.H. Murray's The Scottish Himalayan Expedition | | |
| look at that sky
so wide like an all encompassing screen
it’s the walls of the room i’m standing in
my walls are changing
every minute more light is drained from them
the gold is running to the edges
it’s blue, so blue
i can’t almost bear to stand in the blue room
but it’s getting darker
like someone is pouring midnight onto blue walls
it’s blending all together
now i’m breathless
midnight has resided on my walls and i can’t see
i’m lost, surrounded by darkness
who can see me in the night room
i can’t see where i am
i look to the walls but see nothing but walls of nothingness
i fumble and fall onto my face
crying, i raise my hands
my fingers take in the texture of the midnight walls
i find something
in blindness, i turn it
then the walls are light
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| i wish there were a way to let out a literary scream. i am frustrated for no real reason but oh so many menial ones. i don't understand why its so hard for me to settle on any decision. i am one of those people who functions on a whim. i am spontaneous. i am passionate and every decision i make is passionate and no one can stop me once its made (its scary when i fall in love) but there are times i just would appreciate a clue as to my next whim. i can't decifer what is right in ambiguous situations and when that happens i freeze right where i stand , all my interest in anything shuts down and i simply don't care, all i want is an answer thats it. and am i sick and tired of being judged for having such a personality, forgive me for not being the planned type with their whole life fixed into categories, their budget designated so that if they buy a cup of coffee they have to feel guilty, they have to be single for a certain number of years and then married for another number before they have children, they don't dare speak to someone random because it might screw up their planned day. they know where they are going to live for the next five years of their life. i have one question for them.... are they alive? is it air they breathe or some kind of inhibiting chemical? but of course, i should be that way, right? NO. i refuse. REFUSE. i like who i am, i am opinionated but thank God i'm not passive, i am impulsive, i like weird movies, i don't like rules, i don't like being told by dull, self-righteous people that the way they live is the "right" way or better still that the way they interact with men is the best way, i'm messy and no i don't feel bad that i'm not organized in a way that ikea could advertise, i don't capitalize words and i'm not about to apologize for that, i hate being guilted into feeling a certain way about anything, i am tired of being looked down upon for talking to men like they are people but being labeled boy crazy, ENOUGH. i answer to God alone. i'm happy with who i am, i'm open to the whispers of God if i need to change something but besides that, this is the way i will stay. i'm not changing for anyone but God.
it feels good to state that. but i'm still annoyed that i don't know where to live come may. do i stay big city girl and hope i somehow stumble upon a community? or do i move to small town and hope that i won't be strangled as i try to form community with friends. do i take a risky risk of being alone but challenged to more or do i take a risk to stand up for what i want amongst the already-formed community and risk being silenced? where is the future for me? please understand i am frustrated that i don't have an answer but i am not frustrated that i lead such a life that forces me to ask. | | |
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