wordsarehard

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Today,
writing is like untangling those strings from a tightly-tangled ball, before even attempting to weave them into any sort of fabric.

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Sometimes I feel like writing is building a huge puzzle from few thousand pieces without knowing the final picture.
Sometimes I feel that it is like building a living body in baby steps, assembling the bones on the first draft, then connecting the nerves, the muscles, adding some meat, some blood with every next editing, and finally skin, and colour before it is ready to become its own seperate being.
Sometimes I feel that it is like having a thousand of colourful strings and trying to weave a tapestry having no idea how to do it.

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I can’t use my writing to get the bad blood out of myself.
Because I need my writing to be my good blood.

But then I suffer a lot from the need to get the bad blood out somehow and not knowing how…

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got tired of saying ‘shit’ 50 times a day, so I switched to ‘Scheisse’

I also shout ‘funya funya!’ in angry intonations when I really need to swear but don’t want to

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got stuck in a very silly place in a middle of a chapter

staring into the wall trying to think how hair different to my own would behave in a world without hair products
seriously

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found this going around the Internet once
Reasons for admitting women into an asylum:

ello-xhdpi-94c5bcbf

I find a few other points also interesting.

Menstrual deranged?
Over action of the mind?
Tobacco and masturbation?
Bad whiskey?
Excitement as officer?
Time of life?

Might be a fun idea to count how many of them I currently match.

(Also, when I read ‘congestion of brain’ I always imagine something less ‘stroke’ and more ‘constipation inside the head’ for some reason… )

 

 

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I find it interesting, that when my brain is tired it is much easier to create new languages than to remember any existing ones

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Too often in my life, I feel like I’m moving in slow motion.
With one my blink, time rashes by so fast, I can’t even catch a glimpse of its tail.
Everything is just moving too fast. I can’t catch a breath.
Time is the air, air becomes wind, and when that wind hits you in the face with speed like that, it might as well be a truck.

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It’s much more fun making typos and spelling mistakes in japanese, than alphabet based languages.
Because it’s now so much easier to say that some writer was a very well known female elephant, instead of “symbol”.

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when I laugh a little too much at myself entering ‘men’ where I was trying to type ‘pen’ into the search bar of an online shop…