Listening To An Ordinary Writer

When everyone started in school, the program gives a treat to anyone who speaks his or her mind. But being naïve and conscious of the peers, most would settle to nail themselves in seats safe from indifference. We weren’t warned of the desperate need in old age. Everyone wants to talk but no one wants to hear. Now we’re desperate of reward and recognition, assuming that indifference is some sort of unique sense above everyone’s thinking. Some of us though grew up stuck in the same want—to dwell in cold silence. These people realized that the realness of their entirety comes out when not visible. Without regards to foreign perception, one becomes real. Maybe this is how Emily Dickinson had felt. Those stories and poems of death and self implication would be nothing but a suicidal letter now, an object of subjective commentary. She wrote to declare herself, and kept those until her voice expires from existence. No matter how we recreate a meaning to it, she’s the only one who knows.

I found some of my writings written few years ago. My hands were budding artifacts of feminism and world pessimism. But who cares anyway. I’m glad I wrote it. The words came out like parables. Obviously, I didn’t want it to be found. I didn’t want anyone to understand. At my age now, I could only grasp a few words by remembering how I was feeling that time. Self realization was, I couldn’t recognize my old self. My writings told me that I’ve changed. Somehow, it had become a twin sister--from a widowed soul to one who has been found.

More than a collection of theoretical seeds planted in journals, theses papers or articles, writing is a mirror of self, bare from outsider’s anticipation. I guess people think that written words are just artful craft of sales and printing..a hand meant for the gifted ones, whose purpose is to publicly proclaim principles and concepts. Einstein is a gem. The verb tense for this purpose shows the infinite relevance of his writing. He implicated his own limitations and the grandest price of being human.

Have you written about faith and what life means to you? Or wrote about bold rejection of love? If you’re a young blood who cares less about the urgency of time, you would have probably written about the agonies of listening to a balding professor who loves to graph the consistency of space and time. Like most would have, you’d scribble details of passion stained and smelling from bedroom sheets. In few years time, you would be writing about boring professional rituals, endless complications in relationship, or a question on what you could have done.

So how is writing being implicated in ordinary lives? Technology have done us great, spoiled us from its convenience that we have forgotten to listen to our own voice. Your life shouldn’t be held by a box. Your life is not a fancy image of sports cars and dancing queens. Your life is who you are and no one else could claim it. I dare you to write every piece of it so its value could be more realized. When that face withers like old wood in time, you could go back and say, “So this is how my life was spent.”
pursuitoftheblackwidow pursuitoftheblackwidow
31-35, F
1 Response May 9, 2012

well, some of your best writing here.

thank you.. though not always good enough for profit makers..

Are you seeking profit from your expositions, insights, and analysis?

actually not thinking about that right now.. feel like I'm not ready..used to work as a formal writer but finds it soo boring. there's always no heart if you're doin it for money..I'm just looking forward to finishing the book.

I can say that you have a very unique writing style. sometimes I am not even sure what you are saying specifically, but I always get a feeling of what you mean and try and respond from my gut. I think I understand you often because I think in similar ways. we are very different in our life circomstances and sex but I feel something in the very center of ourselves is the same. like two different trees grew uniquely do to environment but came from the same seed.

that's very well described. I completely agree. We're only differed by decisions we make. I wrote a featured poem for a competition before when I was working in sales and its amazing that people have interpreted it differently..I think that's because they've read it based on individual feelings gathered that time. I don't write to influence anyone but just to bring out one's unique emotions.

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