lillian m. blakey moon_window




DIARY
Newest Entry
Archives
Profile
Cast
About Me
Agoraphobia
Disclaimer
Diaryland

LOCKED DIARIES
Valeofenna
Againsthesky
Echos-Cry
echo-beyond

CONTACT
Notes

LINKS
eXTReMe Tracker


Sunlight on Earth

� Copyright 2006-2012
Sunday, Nov. 25, 2007 - 11:50 pm

=*=


I suddenly want to write. Writing is spawned by the need to escape, primarily; the need to be someone else, some place else. Parts of poems and short stories are saying,'I'm rising from the dead,' and they are. 1.5 weeks is all I ask of them. That's all I need for Finals, and then they can come all they want and wake me up at 3 am.

The themes are primarily escape, well the desire for escape while in confinement. And the desire for the end of it all. To either be free or die...a theme (sort of) in a recent terrible film I watched in my film class. I refuse to say the name of it till school is out. There are other things too besides that, but scenes are coming to mind constantly. The snow, which fell on Thursday and Friday, blanketing the entire landscape and the mountains in the far off distance is the primary cause of all of this. It has since melted off, except for the northern sides and the mountains. In summer I want to be outside with my imaginary friends and the bugs and the flowers, in winter I'll keep my imaginary friends indoors.

ahem...

I'm almost done with my still life paintings for art class. They're decent. I hate still life, but they're decent considering how much I don't like them. Now if we'd painted a landscape or a model in warm, cool, and black and white tones I'd probably like these things. Instead, I had to paint a small bud vase with an imaginary flower in it, a tiny book, a tiny pumpkin, and a paintbrush. oh well, I'll paint over them later.

I cried this afternoon when I woke up. I think part of my wanting to write once again is a re-occurence of what I used to go through during the 6 years I didn't leave the house. I'm feeling isolated here. I go to school, and I sit by myself surrounded by books in the library. I'm just as agoraphobic as I am here at home, I'm simply agoraphobic in public places now. And books were always my friends when no one else would be. And here I am 10 years later, without friends here to visit. And I still own my 1200 books.

I think the problem I have with writing is that I often go backwards in time. I despise modern devices in writing. Even the telephone doesn't belong. TV's are an intrusion. Vehicles are allowed for the sense that they ease the time of travel between scenes, but in my mind they're still old Chevys and Fords, they're definitely not modern. So I need to write in a timeless sense. It could be happening now, or 100 years ago. But, writing needs a purpose besides my aesthetic twittering of words, and it's that that I struggle with. I also (still) have zero confidence in my ability to write, or any point of writing when the majority of people prefer to sit, eat, and zone out into the TV.

And I've found myself missing the big city life. I know I can't handle it, but intellectually I miss it. I miss anonimity. I miss diversity. I miss blue nail polish. I miss sidewalks. I miss the ability to find everything you want in one day. I miss libraries with actual books in them. Pizza Bagels, I miss those too. Multi-level clothing stores...god I miss those. fuck, I'll go ahead and say it...people, I miss people. I miss the ability to go shopping for food at 11:30 at night and not be the only people doing so.

Maybe I should move after all...Cambridge, Mass.?

well, any city with sidewalks and a transit system would be okay, really.

Maybe London or Berlin?

hmm, that would require flying...oh well.

See, that is what writing is for...

~e

=*= one day i'll fly away =*=

most recent entries:

waving white flags - Wednesday, Sept. 27, 2017

yeah so, stuff is happening... - Monday, Sept. 18, 2017

my mind is on the blink - Tuesday, Sept. 12, 2017

How stupid of me - Saturday, Sept. 09, 2017

finally breaking down - Monday, Sept. 04, 2017