Another Conversation With You. My Friend.

Quiet Moments

Hello. How are you? I’m terrified of boring people with my posts, but today, or, I should say, this evening, I felt like having a conversation with you. Whoever you are. It doesn’t matter. Just as long as you’re human, with a beating heart. If you’re anything else, then, well, I suppose I have cause to be afraid. Please spare the libraries once you’ve annihilated all the other institutions, okay? Oh, and spare the people.


These couple of days, while I’ve been moving into a new place (it’s not nice, but beggars can’t be choosers) and getting my life back into order, I’ve been struggling with injecting authenticity into my blog. My words grew shiny and shallow, like pretty pieces of ornate bone without the flesh. Perhaps I’ll look back on this blog, after I’m a published author, and laugh at my musings and silly struggles. But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You never hear from the people before they achieve success. That’s the darkest period: when no-one cares about you, and sometimes even you find it hard to give a damn about yourself.

But, yes. I felt I had lost something, somehow. One of the aims of this blog is to be an antidote for loneliness, mine and yours. To be a place where hearts could touch across the spans of miles, countries, worlds. To make people feel less alone, less scared. To commiserate, and realise there are others like us out there. In trying to make my writing better, and hating the results, I think I lost some of that. Did you notice it? You probably did.

Recently, I’ve given myself over completely to writing. Well, that’s my piece of inspiration over and done with; I’ve taken plunge, now so can you! But honestly, it’s less of a plunge and more of a dizzying free fall into oblivion. In all honesty, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m terrified about what I’m going to do. I’m terribly sorry if this bores you; but I just felt like having a honest conversation for once, without the fluff, without trying to impress anyone, without censoring myself for fear of not writing well. Bare my soul, I suppose. Capture a moment in time, a thought.

But, yes. Basically, writing has become the be-all-and-end-all for me. It wasn’t a sudden decision: it crept upon me, day by day, inching its ink-stained fingers across my body, until I was thoroughly taken and ensnared. In regards to making money, and keeping a roof over my head, I literally have no backup plan. Of course, I’ve been trying to make a crack at freelance writing, and whatnot, but they have been baby steps filled with pompous self-confidence. I’ll probably fall flat on my face, but that’s okay.

And what spurred me to this final decision? To fling away a future of financial stability? Well, love and hate, really. If you take anything away from this slapdash, stream-of-consciousness post, it’s to follow your dreams. I don’t want to settle, and I don’t want to compromise. Maybe you’re like that too, you know? Especially if you’re creative. I have the kind of temperament that can’t stand institutional regime and rigidity. A free spirit, as you may call it. The thought of having a normal nine-to-five job makes me want to claw out my own eyes.

In essence, it seems the only thing I’m slightly competent at (or trying to be), and the only reason I was put on this earth, seems to be to write and tell stories. These kinds of things, well, you just know, if you tap on your ribcage and ask your heart. I suppose, eventually, if I’m forced by financial necessity, to get a normal, odious part-time job in the ‘real world’, rather than spend my days writing articles as a freelance writer, reading, and working on novels and short stories, I’ll do it. Perhaps sweeping popcorn off the floor of a cinema. Clean bathrooms. You know you want something bad when you’ll do anything if it means you can keep on working towards it. Well, perhaps not anything: prostitution and drug-dealing are two occupations I am compelled to rule out.

In other words, it’s a balance between squeezing as much time out of the day to be spent on literary and creative pursuits while still staying off the streets and not starving. Well, that’s the plan. Feel free to call me out on it, dear friend, and slap me into reality if you disagree. After all, this is a conversation. I can imagine you talking back to me. Oh, dear. Now you probably think I’m crazy. Then again, if you’ve read my blog up to this point, and haven’t intuited a bit of my madness through my writing, either you’re undiscerning, or I’m just good at covering up.

You know. We’re all the same. We just want things to be Okay. You want your life to turn out Okay, and I want my life to turn out Okay. Wanting crystal balls that actually work is an expression of our distaste for uncertainty. Uncertainty leads to thoughts such as: What if I’m not good enough? What if I don’t get published even after I die? What if I don’t succeed?

That instability will never disappear. Once, late at night, I got to thinking about how wonderful my life would be if I never had to worry about money, and could concentrate solely on my writing. And then I fleshed it out, imbued the daydream with cold-blood reality, like slipping some anti-freeze into the veins of a live, flopping fish, so I could get a good look at it; and I realised if that was so, I would probably die without putting my pen to paper. I would be too comfortable; it would be far too easy to procrastinate. I would spend half the day nibbling my fingers and the other half bemoaning the talent of others. Maybe fear can sometimes be the greatest motivator of all. Maybe that’s why people from such disadvantaged backgrounds can leap to such heights of achievement. Because if you’re already at the rim of the bowl rather than the bottom, and can already see the view – ah, lovely, lovely, and are not wallowing in darkness, you’re less likely to make the final kick to escape.

Anyone who has had parents know the expectations they can put on you. The thought of breaking to my mother the news of my New Life Plan (the only motto of it being: FOLLOW WHAT YOU LOVE) makes me cringe. A shower of acidic words will rain down upon me, I know it. But you know what I know more? It’s that I’m dying. That you’re dying. WE’RE ALL DYING. And I don’t want to squander the little time I have here on this earth. No-one does. You know, it’s very simple: find what you love, and follow it through to the end. That’s what life should be about. But we both know society likes to tangle things up into knots, until we can’t make a head or tail of it, and are too afraid to deal with it all.

How easily they scare you. Parents scare you, advertisements scares you, teachers scare you, governments scare you, news scares you, statistics scare you. It’s no wonder we’re all a bunch of obedient little puppies, clocking in at our everyday puppy training, pushing bones across desks and yapping on phones to other doggies. Recently, I was reading a few news articles on the terrible job prospects of those who didn’t choose degrees on concrete subjects e.g. science, mathematics, engineering, law, etc. It makes people like me wonder why we were put on this earth. Does anyone appreciate creative intuitive people? Are we seen as providing value any more, with our dreams and words and feelings? This entire New Life Plan of mine might be just a delusion. Maybe I’m just lost in my fairyland, and haven’t yet been exposed to the harsh realities of a capitalist society. I’ve grown up dirt-poor, but I live in a developed country, so I’ve never been truly hungry. Maybe I know nothing about how hard it gets. If that’s the case, dear friend, I would highly appreciate it if you would burst my bubble. It would be the better for society; they’d get a new dog, then, instead of a loafer.

Follow the joy. See? My heart’s singing. It sings when I think of libraries, books, words, imagination, wacky worlds and wackier characters. Sometimes, it’s easier to cram a whole fish down your throat than to believe in yourself. Ah, the fear of delusion. That ought to be a topic I should tackle, in my little blog here for dreamers. Dreams are curlicues of spun sugar, and so breakable, so brittle, so easy to shatter into a thousand clear nothings. Our hearts spin wreaths of them, but what happens when the source of the dreams grows tired?

I don’t know. All I know is Love. I’m trusting the Love in my heart.

I’m an idiot. I’m probably delusional. I’m a madwoman. But I don’t care. Because I’m a dreamer.

I wish you well, dear friend. I want to hug you, and comfort you, and tell you that everything will be Okay. But I don’t think Okay is something we can ever control. All I can do is urge you to find your true happiness.

Farewell, for now.



6 thoughts on “Another Conversation With You. My Friend.

  1. so much heart and soul! thanks for writing this one. most people who’ve gone to bed feeling peaceful or woken up with a smile have been branded delusional. the majority seem too unhappy for dreamers to want to fit in with them anyway! i wish you all the luck and light.

  2. Hello!

    It’s good to know that you already established yourself in the new place. I was feeling helpless because I couldn’t think of something useful to say. But you’re doing great with your blog. As far as I can tell, there are no boring posts here. Everything you write resembles a curious and ingenuous character, but with the pillars of a wide world view stuffed with understanding and wisdom. Kind of stoic, but with the compass pointing to the dreamland (what the heck am I saying? Maybe is the INFP inside me, very sensitive to stimulant witty writing).

    You’re already a writer. And you’re already a published writer also. What you do is self-publishing. Just because a gatekeeper doesn’t know about you or is unable to recognize your writing, that doesn’t mean that you need to wait for him/her. You already have at it. You are already famous. Don’t believe me? I guess you know it. A lot of dreamers are bumping and glancing at your blog. And their reaction perhaps is like mine: WOW. In no time you’ll be reference to the word dreamer. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t be afraid of being known. Accept power. Embrace the freedom to dream. And infect people with it.You don’t have to pay duties and try to be someone who you are not. Just be confident and move on. You are already successful, because you have the tools (good writing and disposition) and audience. The remaining is just a leap that eventually will happen: word of mouth. But don’t let this blind you! Keep writing.

    Today there are a lot of options for self-publishing writers. For example, you could turn your blog into a book and add some special chapters in it, and these chapters will be only available in the book. Or you could think of making series of short stories and make crossovers between them. I don’t know, just trying to give some ideas. Whatever path unfolds for you, it’s going to be at least interesting to see.

    In this post, what struck me most was:

    “Maybe that’s why people from such disadvantaged backgrounds can leap to such heights of achievement”

    Three things come to my mind immediately. Bear with me.

    1: Theodore Roosevelt: . Yesterday I started to read the book called: The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt. And I’m feeling it’s a great read.

    2: David and Goliath of Malcolm Gladwell: . I didn’t read it, but saw the interviews on Youtube and the heavy critics to it. But I believe it’s worth checking it out and maybe I’ll.

    3: Okay, this is going to sound weird. I watched an japanese animation called xxxHolic. And in the second season there is a character that reminds me of you. Her name is Kohane Tsuyuri: basically, she’s a lovely prodigy child whose mother has divorced and treat her strangely, without realizing her true strengths and talent. A drawing of the show: <a href="”>

    P.S: You became stronger, don’t you think? I mean, you’re more realistic. And still, overflowing with sweet and enigmatic words. That’s beautiful. Moreover, you are beautiful.

    • No, thank you for being beautiful, and for your beautiful words. Honestly, your heartfelt comments have been the equivalent of hugs when I’m feeling down. Yes, I do think I’ve grown stronger and grittier. Yet, the dreamer within me is still very much alive. Thank you for those inspirational examples. They helped. Everything helps. I will keep on writing and dreaming with every ounce of my being, and I’ll leap into the abyss and make my wings on the way down if I have to. What do we have to lose? We’re all dying, and it’s wonderful that we are, because then there’s no reason we shouldn’t chase after our dreams with what little time we have. Thank you once again. I wish you well.

  3. I would love to snowboard for a living but I know t’s never going to happen. Maybe it was all the years of my dad questioning “Is it going to make you money?” that lead me to believe this. So instead I’ve sacrificed myself by working a humble 9-6 in order to at least pay for this expensive hobby.
    But just because I couldn’t make it as a professional ______ doesn’t mean you can’t. Some (you?) were just destined to do bigger and better things…

    • Oh, dear. I just typed out a long comment to your reply and accidentally clicked off the page. Doofus. Anyway, the long and short of it was: it’s okay to pursue what you love after work. However, unless you give it all your heart and effort, you won’t become a professional snowboarder. So, if it’s just something fun you like doing, then I think it’s great, and you should keep on having fun doing it. Sometimes, it’s not about doing bigger and better things, but just chasing your passions. People tend to become bigger and better in the process, but it’s all about the love. Love what you do. Have fun.

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