Love letters to myself

a little alone

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Garçon!

The waiting makes me cranky.
The waiting makes me
cranky.
The waiting makes
me cranky.

It shouldn't. When I get dressed at the very last minute, when I start washing my hair when I've said I was already out the door. People get caught in traffic, get delayed by last-minute arguments with parents, simply move slower than they'd like to. I of all people should know.

And I shouldn't.

What's with the hurry? Savor the anticipation, always always frantic to get to the moment.
Slow approach, nice and easy, no need to get all antsy, let the wanting wait.
So what if he's an hour late? Hopefully that means extending your time together
an hour longer. ---

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Off to a start

If there's anything I learned from all those lectures in literature class and various conversations with poets and writers, struggling or established alike -- is that one must strive to write everyday. No, one MUST actually write something everyday. Even just one sentence. One word. Writing is a craft, a skill to be honed, therefore one cannot improve without practice. And although writing down one random word does not necessarily constitute exhaustive practice, at least you're off to a start.

The problem with me, is I write everyday but I do it in my head. I form sentences and whole paragraphs narrated by the voice in my head and captured in my mind's eye. Admittedly, it takes the pleasure out of the physical act of writing your thoughts down, or typing them out -- in this instance -- but it is also an experiment on how long my memory can serve me. For example, the beginning of this post was composed entirely in my head, and it's cool how I can actually hear myself think.

And sometimes, the ideas just come in a whir and it's nice giving them free reign in the blank wide space in there, instead of always trying to pin down every link, connection that these single thoughts make. However, when it's actually time to gather material for publishable ouvres, or anything close to it, i draw -- ironically -- a blank. They all get lost there inevitably.
So maybe the point is, I'll write (type) these words anyway, but always in the spirit of automatic-writing (google it later) just type type type away, edit later, or not edit at all. Let's have all the raw energy of my fabulous and insightful writing skills come to life, materialize, the word made flesh, do the best I can. Anyway my 60 WPM resume perk is no match for the velocity and speed of the tiny voice in my head.

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