Things I Take for Granted

So... I am still completely out of ideas. I figured I'd draw up another list of me contemplating myself... This one was inspired by the slow drip of melting snow from the eavestrough on my roof.

1. Winter/The Seasons

I guess this is the first thing that I'll start with since it is what inspired me to make a list. You see, I hate winter. And I don't take the word hate lightly. I'll tough out most things, but my body has never adapted well to the cold. It can make you forget how wonderful winter is. It's winter that makes spring all the more so dramatic. To switch from barren lands. Frozen deserts. To that sweet smell of the first buds of May. The burst of colours emerging from a once white winterland. It's birth. Regrowth. Life.

2. Life in Canada

There's no doubt about it. We live like 16th century monarchs. (Or whatever century you'd like to pick.) You never realize how lucky you are until you've stepped outside of your own little world. As Canadians, we enjoy luxuries that even Americans aren't privy to. National security. I can't ever remember a time when we've had to deal with large scale "terrorist" attacks on our homeland. Free healthcare. Free education. At least until university. And even then we pay almost half of what Americans pay.

3. My Friends

I sometimes find myself wishing my friends were more like myself - shared the same interests, held the same values and beliefs, reached for similar goals. But how boring would that be? Each of my friends have their own unique thing that endears me to them. If we were all like me, well... It's good to be unique sometimes. Variety is what makes things interersting - conformity creates ticky tacky boxes.

4. Freedom?

??? I've run out of ideas already. I guess this part comes from living in Canada... But I guess it deserves it's own spot too.

I tried...  I really did. I think I'm gonna go for something simpler next time. Maybe a dialogue. Maybe I will upload a bit of my big project next time. (I am in the process of writing a novel.) I've been completely drained of all my inspiration and creativity. I think I'm gonna go try some redecorating... Maybe take a break from writing again. Well, until the next time.

Why We Write

Beware of literature. I must follow the pen, without looking for words.

- Jean Paul Sartre, Nausea

I do not write for myself. I rarely if ever write for myself. I write for my friends. For my audience (which currently stands at one Canadian - stats courtesy of google analytics). I write to entertain people. To make them laugh. To make them think. To hopefully push them beyond their limits. I write in the hopes that someone may rebut my ideas or debunk them completely and make ME see things in a different light.  

I do not write by the pen. Each word is strategic. Carefully chosen. Manipulated to its utmost degree. A rose is never just a rose in my world of purple hippos and pink elephants. Nothing is accidental.

Check it out...

P.S. I thought of this short film while writing the last entry. I think it is the most awesome of awesome short films ever made. Possibly one of the most awesome films ever made - short and long. There are no words to describe how amazingly awesome it just is. Watch it.

http://www.gethappy.com/watchmore.html

Just trying to get some writing in...

Words fail me. I've been known to be a quiet one, but I've never been at a loss for words. They're what I have. I've never had dancing feet, or fingers for piano, or a voice so beautiful it could stop time every time you heard it. But I've always had my words. My pen and paper. And later on my keyboard.

But today, yesterday, the day before yesterday. Words fail me. It's as if the past 23 years of my life have been bubbling, and brewing, and mixing, and colliding, and generally biding time til now. Now when every second of my life has accumulated to this one moment. This one fork in the road. And I have so many mixed emotions that I'm rendered speechless.

Memories of the past, that I never recalled until now, evoke supressed rage and anger and bitterness of always "getting the short end of the stick". And I'm angry at the world. I sulk. Pessimism clouds my vision like a security blanket. I feel safe in a world I understand.

And yet... And yet, that veil is sometimes lifted. And I see life as I want to see it. As it once used to be for me. That spring is eternal, and if you can't feel it now, it's always just around the corner. Life is good. Life is better than good. It's beautiful. It's full of opportunities and promises to come. Life is love. Love is life.

I guess, in my eyes, the two paths are life or death. Maybe it seems so simple. That most people would choose life. But it is life in all it's glory. Untamed. Uncontrollable. And death... Well, death is security. It's an end to a never-ending story. It's the daily hum of a well-oiled routine. For how can we say we're really living when we try to shield ourselves from all that life sends our way?