I’m sitting here listening Bon Iver and making NYE plans with Roch instead of writing CIHR grant forms (don’t tell my supervisor, I swear I’m trying my best!). The biggest argument I got into the past couple days had to with the tendency of the liberal media/government/education bodies to allow tolerance to be defined by being outwardly (but at the same time unconsciously) anti-Christian. That and the false propaganda associated with global warming. Oh and finally whether the DBZ guys or girls were hotter (definitely the guys, come on...Majin Vegeta and future Trunks do not trump Videl, Bulma, or any other female figure in the DBZ universe). I guess I like arguing. Or not. Actually I don’t like arguing, I just have an opinion and find this uncontrollable need to state it all the time.
Sometimes I wonder if I have too strong a flavour, too strong a presence. I know that sounds conceited, but if you didn’t know, I write. Mostly poetry, some short fiction, but yes I write (as an aside, I’ve been debating getting a writing section up on here but I don’t know how to link a separate section and blah blah. Let me know if I should or shouldn’t, if you will.).
Today is Tuesday, and if I was at home I’d be heading to Denny’s to meet up with the best writer’s crew on this half of the planet (shoutouts to Craig and Donna, especially). Writing is not difficult for me in the sense that I don’t sit down and mull about for words and ensure that every single word on the page was carefully chosen and most correct. When I write, I write fast and hard. Writing is hard for me when it comes to sharing, as I do not censor the emotional truths I write about, especially pertaining to myself. In fact, it is in my writing that you see what in me is most vulnerable but also what is most Shani, at least in that moment. It is a very fragile act, sharing one’s writing. I mean, people have this idea of who I am (or who they suppose I am), and oftentimes it doesn’t match what they read. In fact, my mom said that my stories were way too emotional and that I should stop writing what I wasn’t.
It’s scary sharing my works with people closest to me because maybe what I share is not what they know of me, or have come to believe of me. But what kind of a person doesn’t write the truth? What kind of a writer doesn’t hunger for the truth? If it is truth that sets us free, then no wonder so many of us feel trapped. Our survival is oftentimes based on lies, to ourselves, to others. I’m tempted to say that not all the lies are bad, they are necessary. But with necessity comes compromise and we (or at least I) oftentimes compromise the truth in order to maintain some sort of regularity, normalcy, continuity.
Alas the writer’s world is a complicated one. Not very practical though. It’s 1:30 p.m. and I think I’m off to get some soup.
Cheers!
Denial is key to survival because it helps us from going into panic attacks when bad things happen to strangers. Something that has always fascinated me was an article I read by these British sociologists who discovered that the average human emotional capacity was only 150 people (give or take for some, but on average 150).
ReplyDeleteThe suggestion is that at most people we can simultaneously care for is 150 and everyone else becomes a stranger, or over time is demoted to something along the lines of acquaintance. You'd feel bad if something bad happened to them, but if they were within your sphere of 150, you would actually feel the tragedy and may even feel compelled to help in some way.
Also, Krillin's android wife, 18, was pretty cute.
mmmm soup
ReplyDeleteWhen I read this I paused for about 2 seconds to figure out what DBZ was... then I figured it out ;) Guess I know you pretty well ;P
ReplyDeleteIf you need help with linking just ask me :)
As long as your not writing Mills and Boon, I'll still love you.
ReplyDelete