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 Well, not so much fun and leisure as...get some damn writing done, you fool! |
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A while ago, I attended a writers' workshop and the lady who hosted it told us all to go away with this bit of advice - to write for just ten minutes a day. I was determined to go ahead with it and I did...for two days. So today I remembered that I'd resolved to do so and I whipped out my journal and wrote for fifteen minutes. I'm typing out pretty much the same thing that I wrote earlier, with some differences. I find I can go a lot more in-depth when I'm typing than when I'm writing by hand. Writing by hand is such a chore! I've struggled with loneliness a lot throughout my twenty-nine years. I struggled with it when I was the only one home with my mum when I was a teen and everybody else had other places to be. I struggled with it after marriage and when we moved into our own house for the first time. I struggled with it after my son was born and I felt torn between pursuing my writing and being a good mum, because my culture seems to indicate that a woman has absolutely no chance of living her own life - or at least, she has no chance of attaining any goals she hasn't already attained - once she has children. I feel it occasionally still, even though I get so little time to myself nowadays that any alone time is simply awesome. I've tried to come to terms with the idea that being alone isn't a bad thing - and a lot of the time, it isn't. My friends don't live nearby so I don't get to see them often, and even when I do, I feel like there isn't much depth to our conversations. I'm surrounded by people who do not think like me, who do not share any of my interests and hobbies. I feel like I've become desensitised to isolation. Loneliness is my preferred way to be. I walked into my college cafeteria at lunch today and it was the usual hubbub of activity. Youngsters walking around, chatting animatedly, shouting across the room, laughing, eating, socialising. I could recall how that clamour wouldn't have bothered me ten-twelve years ago, when I would have been one of the youngsters talking excitedly with her friends. But, as this moment, I just found an out-of-the-way little table and sat down. I watched the crowds for a while, wondering why it was only at moments like these that the sense of isolation became so strong. In the middle of a crowd, I feel most alone. |
| 10:11 Today's entry is brought to you through the eyes of my kitten, Dean: The room smells like spices and sweat. It's enormous. Oh, a place to hide! Let's get in. I'm invisible! I'm invincible! Maybe I'll settle down for a nap... "Dean?" I sit up at the sound of my name. The voice is familiar. My human. My overly strict human who will now try to pull me out of my hiding place and shut me out of this room! The other human is here too, on his back and letting out enormous snores. He is the source of the strong smell. "Dean!" I crawl further into the corner, though I can't resist peeking towards the opening of my hiding place. The whole thing moves and I see her face blocking out the light. "There you are!" she says. "Come on! Get out of there!" I don't move. I want to stay here! She groans and pulls the mattress away from the wall and makes her way towards me. I dig my claws into floor, lowering my head over my paws, but it doesn't help. She has come to get me! A meow of protest leaves my lips as she scoops me up in her hands. She gives my head a rub, right between the ears. Aaaah, that feels good... She's not so bad really. That's ten minutes! Phew! I did not enjoy that! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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