%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 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. |
| 23:50 I thought I'd miss the constant noise at my parents' house when I came back home but, so far, I'm loving the peace and quiet! And I've only just turned the computer on despite the fact that I've been home for about four hours and, in the first half hour, I put the little one to bed. Basking in the quiet and calm, I prayed the late afternoon prayer, then played some games on my phone while waiting for the sunset prayer (I'm lazy so I try to make one ablution last for as many prayers as I can, which is usually the last three of the day since they're closer together this time of year). Then I made myself a sandwich and watched a K-drama. Then I did the night prayer and now, here I am! I remember in my childhood, I didn't enjoy the peace and stillness that comes after someone who'd stayed with us for a while went back. It happened with my sister. She would come, bringing my nephew with her, and it was so lively in the house. He is my first nephew so it was a big thing for all of us when he was with us, back before they moved to my parents' house. Everyone was cheered by the baby. I got to see the soft side of my dad, which only comes out around very small children who are part of the family. Not that he's mean to other people's kids - but there's a certain distance we maintain towards strangers' kids, no matter how much we love children, right? Speaking of my father...boy, was staying at his house for two weeks a challenge! He seems to be getting even more critical of everything with age. Nothing is ever up to par. Everyone is a disappointment. He moved my car for me last night, because he was out and the spot I usually parked at had been vacated. He told me today that I had to refill the oil. I do not do cars...aside from barely-passably drive them. And during this refilling of the oil, I heard so many criticisms! "You've left the car in a right state!" and "The paint work was so nice and you had to go and scrape the door somewhere!" I mean...they were all valid criticisms, don't get me wrong, particularly since the guy got me the car. I'm not a great driver. I've been in a few minor scrapes. My husband, who was driving the car mostly for the last few months, has left it a pigsty. There is cigarette ash everywhere, despite my constant requests that he not smoke in the car. And the gas pedal is loose, for some weird reason. But I mean, come on! You don't talk to your daughter that often so, when you do, must you speak in that way? And meek like idiot that I am, no matter how old I get and how much I come to see my dad as just another human being, I can never seem to climb the hurdle that is the awkward relationship between him and me. This was a bit ranty. Sorry >_< 00:11 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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