(no subject)
Mar. 2nd, 2007 01:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
floweranzaSmall things from the Writing Center today.
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For a mere second after I jerked my gaze up from my book, it seemed to me as if the world around me was simply a moving picture, complete with sound and smell and three-dimensionality, but nothing concrete, not reality. It was one of the oddest sensations I had ever felt in my life.
*
Something of my derisive attitude about it remains, though I do think that I'm self-entitled to any rage that I express through my writing. There is much to write about. Rage is as good as any fuel to write about common things in your life that, while not being intense or shattering, are still hurtful and an itch that life has deposited on you.
*
With some people, it's very pleasant to simply let myself go. Without anything restraining me I am a wild thing, largely unconcerned for the feelings of others. When this happens, I am no longer concerned about the question that haunts me daily, that search for that something which continuously elusive and that I will never be able to find. However, there comes an inevitable depression, and so I don't let myself free very often.
*
I don't think a lack of understanding is always necessarily bad. There are probably times when it will be the worst thing of all, a murderous thing, but then at over times I feel like it can also be something powerful. Sometimes people say wonderful things when they don't understand. Someone else will have understood the significance of those words, though, and I think that defines the beauty of the world.
*
Someday I will figure out why I am so fixated on writing about deserts.
I have yet to visit one, and maybe I should make that a personal goal.
*
I think it's rather frightening that our own perceptions can fool us. (How fragile everything is, how intelligence depends on genes or the tissues of the brain or a superfluous chromosome and not the, I suppose, well, the person - and even that I wonder about. If my brain is 'me' and my body is 'me,' why is it such that it is 'the brain' and 'the body' and not the person... this is probably a very stupid thing to even think about. Leave it to the realm of philosophy.) When you look at the numbers on a digital clock and it says 1:45, you don't think that it's a very long time to 2:00 at all. But when you look at a physical clock, at the hands ticking around and the circle, it seems that 1:45 is so very far away from hands-at-12-and-2. But it's the same thing, and that's distressing. I think it's distressing that I can't master that.
---
I still can't write the things I want to write the way I want to, though. Still working.
---
For a mere second after I jerked my gaze up from my book, it seemed to me as if the world around me was simply a moving picture, complete with sound and smell and three-dimensionality, but nothing concrete, not reality. It was one of the oddest sensations I had ever felt in my life.
*
Something of my derisive attitude about it remains, though I do think that I'm self-entitled to any rage that I express through my writing. There is much to write about. Rage is as good as any fuel to write about common things in your life that, while not being intense or shattering, are still hurtful and an itch that life has deposited on you.
*
With some people, it's very pleasant to simply let myself go. Without anything restraining me I am a wild thing, largely unconcerned for the feelings of others. When this happens, I am no longer concerned about the question that haunts me daily, that search for that something which continuously elusive and that I will never be able to find. However, there comes an inevitable depression, and so I don't let myself free very often.
*
I don't think a lack of understanding is always necessarily bad. There are probably times when it will be the worst thing of all, a murderous thing, but then at over times I feel like it can also be something powerful. Sometimes people say wonderful things when they don't understand. Someone else will have understood the significance of those words, though, and I think that defines the beauty of the world.
*
Someday I will figure out why I am so fixated on writing about deserts.
I have yet to visit one, and maybe I should make that a personal goal.
*
I think it's rather frightening that our own perceptions can fool us. (How fragile everything is, how intelligence depends on genes or the tissues of the brain or a superfluous chromosome and not the, I suppose, well, the person - and even that I wonder about. If my brain is 'me' and my body is 'me,' why is it such that it is 'the brain' and 'the body' and not the person... this is probably a very stupid thing to even think about. Leave it to the realm of philosophy.) When you look at the numbers on a digital clock and it says 1:45, you don't think that it's a very long time to 2:00 at all. But when you look at a physical clock, at the hands ticking around and the circle, it seems that 1:45 is so very far away from hands-at-12-and-2. But it's the same thing, and that's distressing. I think it's distressing that I can't master that.
---
I still can't write the things I want to write the way I want to, though. Still working.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-03 07:41 am (UTC)Ah, how true.
I like these musings. Keep writing them =)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-03 06:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-03 05:58 pm (UTC)Wow. Can I quote this? It's like.. the Zen. LOL
Loves all these thoughtful writings. It makes me feel all warm. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-03 06:05 pm (UTC)Mom said that these were all contradictory and she didn't like them at all. I was like, 'It's kind of... meant to be... to relay my utter sense of confusion.' :P
Thankyou~. ♥