%%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. |
| 09:49 I usually start off my day by writing my blog but sometimes, I forget. I did manage to get my minimum amount of writing done though! Now I need to concentrate on doing my assignments. I have less than a week to finish one of them. I think I put them off, thinking it's going to be a big hassle, even though I really ought to know better. Even if it is a hassle - which it isn't, not always - it's much more of a hassle if left to the last minute. But anyway, that's boring. So in yesterday's encounter group in the counselling session, we were all told to go and reflect on what was said and write in our journals. My journal is woefully blank. I have been mentioning the odd incident or reflection on here, I think, but I don't think it will be enough. And I've been blogging for some months now so I would have to trawl through a hell of a lot of entries to find a tiny little sliver of the kind of information I'd need for my self-awareness assignment. To be honest, I'm not chilled out enough in class to share my thoughts openly. Maybe I ought to share that? But then they'd ask why and I don't really know the answer. Last week, I had a good session because not many people were there and I was drawn into conversation. This week, I didn't contribute much. In my defense, I was tired as hell and did actually fall mid-way into sleep in the encounter group. I have not had a good deal of sleep the past few nights, for various reasons. They talked about using humour as a cover-up for serious topics. One lady mentioned how she always felt that she had to respond to her son calling for her and she could never tell him to leave her alone for a bit despite him now being a teenager because of an incident when he was four. It was a humurous story on the surface - about a goldfish accidentally being placed in scalding water and the lady not coming to check what was going on because she was in the shower - but yeah, I suppose if you dig down, you could imagine the lady's distress at the time of the incident and wondering how to deal with the situation. I'm not like that with my son. I have imagination enough to envisage him doing something silly when I'm not around but I try not to give in and be overprotective because that's just going to make it worse, isn't it? He's little. He will learn if he does something silly. Of course, if there's real danger that's another story, but I'm quite consistent in keeping sharp things hidden and making sure everything is as child-proof as it can be before I have to leave him without supervision while I do my prayers or go to the bathroom. But he's three now so he has a pretty good idea of what he can and can't do. This entry went on forever! 10:04 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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