Blog @ Work

Missing things

Prompt: Right now I am looking up at the ceiling; when outside, I look up at the sky, the clouds, and the tops of trees. Do you ever look up, and what does looking up mean to you?(BC)

No, I usually don’t look up while walking the streets for example. There are two reasons I always look down. First I have weak ankles. I tend to stumble and sprain my ankle if I am not careful. The slightest unevenness in the pavement causes a sprained ankle so I am always careful walking. The other reason is my dog Arie.
He tends to pull the leash a lot so I am always looking down at him while walking. To see what he is up to and to correct him when necessary. Both reasons are responsible I miss out on a lot while walking the streets. I tend to miss out on clouds and even people. Simply because I am occupied looking down.

Looking up to me means looking up to somebody I admire or love. On this site, I look up to a few writers. I won’t mention any names though; it is partly because I am a newbie still figuring things out, and because there are many awesome writers working this site. When I am a fan of somebody, I tend to look up to that person a little, without idolizing though since I don’t like that. That’s too much honor. We are all equal in the face of Life. But some people are more prone to greatness or are more lovable than others.

Prompt: "My first poem was a bolt from the blue... it broke a spell of disillusion and suicidal despondence... it filled me with soul satisfying joy." - William Carlos Williams. Have you ever written something or encountered a piece of writing that filled your soul with joy. If you haven't had that type of experience when writing did you have it at any other time. Tell us about it. (BCoFs)

Yes, I had that experience of feeling soul satisfying joy when I finished my first Dutch thriller 16 years ago. It contained 120 pages and its title was Molest. I had written it in a few months, writing day and night and experiencing that writers flow for the first time. It was mind bubbling. I loved that feeling. Unfortunately, that writing is lost in moving house and changing computers so I don’t have any copies of it. It is as if it doesn’t exist at all. Only in my memory, I have that notion of accomplishing a piece of art.

Day NINE "Give It 100!"