Good day everyone! Yes, hello! Sorry for the crude introduction. As of the moment I am not feeling well (I have a cold & it seems to be escalating into a fever) so I am really down on the dumps – not literally of course but you get what I mean.
So anyways, let’s go directly to the heart of this matter. So sit down, relax & read & enjoy! 😀
It has been days since I last wrote something for this blog of mine. Partly because I’ve been busy with my other one (My Camena) which is where I post all of my poems, but mainly because I haven’t had the flowing juices that I need to write something in particular.
Writing a poem is completely different from writing a blog or an essay or what I’m doing right now (which I call a share of thought), just look at the number of words for instance.
In my opinion, with regards to artistry, poems are more artistic, they sound more beautiful, they are like the sweet melodies of hummingbirds in the early light of morning, but when it comes to being free in expressing yourself without the grandiose verses, to just simply vent out or spill the beans, I think share of thought or blogging is more apt.
I love both of them, but I usually neglect the other one more often. It’s because my brain gets constipated. It does not excrete the necessary ideas & thoughts that I need to write something. So in order to break that form I decided I’d write something about what I feel right now which is: What the hell should I write?
“Being a writer is a very peculiar sort of a job: it’s always you versus a blank sheet of paper (or a blank screen) and quite often the blank piece of paper wins.”
― Neil Gaiman
Neil Gaiman says it best. It happens to us often, as writers, the one that usually wins is the blank sheet of paper & I cannot go into detail about the number of blank sheets of paper I have in my house simply because I have a lot them.
What happens in this state? Often, writers become catatonic, we have a sense of negativity in which we think we are not alive because we are not writing. It is our passion in writing that tortures us. We start to over think things like “I will never be able to write something” “I’m getting rusty” “What the hell is wrong with you brain? Why won’t give me something to write?”. Sadly, right now that’s what I feel as a writer, it is only at this instance that my hands are writing on paper that I feel light headed & happy.
I honestly miss writing on my blog & I’ll do my best to write as often as I could on this one. I guess that I became too focused on my efforts on being a poet that I forgot one of the most important memories I had as a child: I didn’t write poems. I wrote babbles. The same as this one.
My love for poetry over shadowed who I really was, A BABBLER, A TALKER, A WRITER. I didn’t start off by writing poems, no, I started in writing essays, letters, journals, diaries, I was my personal STORY TELLER. Looking back, I grew a little sad, not because I’ve been focusing on my poems & enhancing my skills in poetry, but because I have deprived myself to my natural process of venting out. Poetry has never been my natural venting out process, it is not my freestyle, poetry is my art, but being a babbler is my heart.
Keep safe & stay awesome guys! 🙂