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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. |
| 21:18 This entry is a little later than I would like but I'm here now. Unfortunately, I've run out of electricity and we don't know where the key thingy is so I don't think I can get emergency credit. As a result, I'm sat in my darkened kitchen, eating fruit for my iftar (the meal upon opening the fast). Ramadan is off to a wonderful start! Oh, and it's also cold outside so I could do with a bit of warmth. Anyways, the reason I mentioned the lack of electricity is because I can't use my computer and am having to rely instead on my very limited phone data to continue the challenge. So apologies if the entry is shorter than ten minutes. As for the challenge, I don't know. I mean, I paint, but I paint decorative canvases. That doesn't require a whole lot of skill, if you ask me. See, that's the first kind of art that comes to mind upon mention of this little three letter word. But what we writers do is also art, right? We pour our skill, our time, our effort, and our passion for what we do into it. Writing can be an outlet for suppressed feelings or it can be a way to take a break from our mundane lives. Or maybe we simply like it and want to spend the time to perfect it, as much as we can. So art to me is writing, which is an escape from the everyday. I'm honing it all the time, and I think frequently about it when I'm not actively engaged in it, as if itching to get back behind the keyboard so I can continue typing. 21:31. Not bad! I didn't think I'd have the patience to write for long on my phone after getting used to the ease of the computer. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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