Tuesday, January 06, 2004
I have resolved to place entries in my blog more frequently, for as much as that proclaimation seems rather familiar to most blog-readers. I seriously hope to be able to accomplish that, but of course I'm simply starting with the aim of breaking my terrible entry rate of less than one per week. Impossibly dismal, and quite unforgiveable, considering that I'm in the midst of school holidays (which were terribly spent, in my opinion, considering that I won't be having many more holidays in the future, but that is beside the point). Not that I have nothing to write about, for I have found that there are all kinds of ideas floating around my rather poorly-organised cerebral cortex waiting to be released. I have simply spent too much time on Emperor (a city-building game based on China, and not some terrible Dune spinoff) and failed, quite miserably, to delegate some small portion of the four hours I spend sitting in front of the computer every day towards more enriching activities like writing.
I think you've all had enough griping - maybe I should start with something.
Writing, then. I love writing. I feel it gives me a chance to organise some of the huge whirling mass (or mess) of ideas and whims that swirl around behind my eyes. (At this point in time the image of thousands of writhing sentinels from the Matrix finds itself a way into my mind's eye - terribly lousy similes to be using, I must say, but I'm just describing what I'm truly experiencing now.) However corny it sounds, the simile is quite accurate in depicting what goes on up there. I am quite amazed myself at the sheer volume and variety of material present in my head, in addition to the reams of medical information that are beginning, quite insidiously, to nudge the pre-existing data aside. It's almost like some kind of war is going on inside there to decide the fate of both parties. And I fear that things that I used to know are beginning to disappear without my knowledge, so I'd better start writing everything I need to write before I become a medical automaton. Feels like I'm writing my will haha.
I'm getting a bit rusty at writing. I'm sure you can tell how terribly written that paragraph up there is, huh? This is disastrous. It has begun.
I quite enjoyed myself with the last entry on the wisdom tooth. I have not touched descriptive / narrative essays for so long that I really relished the writing process on that entry. Though I must apologise for the unwarranted assault on your eyes, haha. I kind of felt like there was something poetic in the images that flashed through my mind as I wrote, trying to remember all the minuscule details. Even in something as boring as a wisdom tooth extraction, I managed to find some beauty. I suppose that's what they mean when they say that there is beauty in everyday life, albeit a simple kind of beauty. You just need to see past the mundane and the poetry of ordinary scenes makes itself felt, I suppose. Haha quite naive of me to only discover that beauty now, and after a tooth extraction too. Feeling quite idiotic.
One thing about writing is how liberating it is for me. I personally am terrified by face-to-face encounters, for the impossibly absurd reason that I feel vulnerable when placed in the scrutiny of another person. All of which can be attributed to my lack of self-confidence (another story for another time). I simply feel too self-conscious of my actions in front of people that I tend to "clam" up, like a - forgive me - clam. Somehow, writing helps me get around that emotional barrier, since I do not feel the distinctly unpleasant feeling of being in the public eye when I write. Well, I do, but it is markedly less discomfiting than its counterpart.
Quite absurdly, I am only able to let go of many reservations, that I might have in normal public situations, when I am hidden by the veil of the written word. A paradox, in fact, that I am only myself when hidden by that veil. And yet, that is strangely logical in some way, as with people who like chatting on the Internet, hiding themselves behind false identities to get rid of their insecurities. Mine is just a simple variation of that example. Whatever it is, I simply feel that writing liberates parts of my personality that are usually hidden.
And I love writing, of course. It is such an enjoyable hobby to have. As enjoyable as reading.
I don't actually have much more to say, but it would be prudish to have some kind of conclusion at this point in time. If you have not noticed, by the way, I am totally trash when it comes to concluding my essays. I always say impossibly soppy things like, "blah-blah-blah has played a very important part in all our lives..." or "..we should look towards the future rather than place too much emphasis on the past..". Crap. I haven't managed to write a decent conclusion even after years of practice in writing, which is unacceptable in my eyes. It doesn't look like I'll ever get the art of concluding gracefully, though, as much as I wish to learn it.
Until next time, then. Which will be soon, in view of my resolution.
Avaris / 1/06/2004 03:24:00 PM
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