writing

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From 2015:

I just remembered.

I saw a great movie in my dream today again, (and oh god I can’t recall it fully now, of course, I wish I could) but I remember that it was great because when I still remembered it I told myself to remember that it was great.

Well, lets start chronologically –
I was seeing the last part of it when I was already in half-surfaced state–the dream-movie was still very vivid and detailed, but I was aware of myself sleeping and I was also aware of myself laughing in my sleep (and thinking in the back of my mind whether people supposed to actually laugh in their sleep), and the more I was thinking the closer to being awake I shifted, and then my dvd player in living room made some weird noise that really sounded like person snoring and I was torn away form my movie… startled and disappointed because it really was fun.
I then reached to my laptop (I happened to leave on the other side of the bed after writing late last night), and with only half of one eye open, tried to type some notes I could remember about the dream.

I just looked at that file and let me just copy it here while preserving all the ‘punctuation’ and ‘spelling’ exactly:

@�【”Scientist, ig brain hear tbrai (has fever ) rin on the chain on the neck – Cumber
Alling yourself with stars to trunsfer yorself as a power into any information sys
Somimes sendin one person( by sweeping jesture) sent all near ones (strongmen playing guitar on wifes birthday )”】

Now I’d love to know what did I mean.

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I read this book as part of my postgrad research (which you can tell by the number of sticky notes), but I actually have enjoyed it more for personal reasons.
I would recommend it to anyone who writes or plans to write, regardless of being male or female, because even though it does touch on a subject of being woman writer, I personally felt that the most interesting things were written on being writer in general, and dealing with yourself as a writer.
Even though you can put sex or race in front of some things, to claim or insist on some ideas, if you take them out you will realise that those ideas are true for more people than you tried to include.

Even though every essay had very interesting things to take out, I would personally recommend the “What Is It I Think I’m Doing Anyhow” by Toni Cade Barbara

 

 

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I do often feel that if I could just sit down and write, it could just save my life, but … my head is such a mess more often than not that simply can’t bring myself to even put things into words.

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It is hard to write.
Because most of the time, I don’t even know what language I’m thinking in. Because, sometimes, when I try to sit down to write, the ideas and things I want to say pour out in the wrong language and I can’t translate them because not all things are inter-translatable, many things in different languages just exist in different dimensions. Because, most of the time, again, I need to fight the feeling of guilt, because part of my consciousness tells me that right now I’m in a place where I need to be looking at things that are more real and material, as there is not much time left until last piece of land I’m standing on disappears under my feet. And spend the time I try to spend writing, studying or working, cleaning, healing…
But, it seems, Alfred Kazin has said once that, “One writes to make home for oneself, on paper.”
and ohgod I need that home right now. Any kind of home

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“… For this is the great secret, which was known to all educated men in our day: that by what men think, we create the world around us, daily new.

And now the priests, thinking that this infringed upon the power of their God, who created the world once and for all to be unchanging, have closed those doors (which were never doors, except in the minds of men),…”

Marion Zimmer Bradley “The Mists Of Avalon”

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Every writer has a myth-country. This does not have to be childhood … Myth does not mean something untrue, but a concentration of truth.

Doris Lessing, African Laughter

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The best thing about childhood, 

and the thing I miss the most right now,

is that feeling of endlessness of time. 

The feeling of a long long road in front of you,

that you actually feel anxious to walk quicker than you can.

That feeling that you can get a cold (most likely want to get a cold) 

and time would just stop while you could stay lying in your bed for few days,

and nothing would actually change when you got up again. 

Everything moves so fast now I actually feel like I’m being dragged by my hair and can’t get enough a break to stand back up on my feet. 

And I crave for something that will give me that feeling of time staying still again.