A Prisoner of Technology

I have been drifting between my laptop and the TV all day today. And now I’m in front of both. Sitting on the couch watching the Habs kick Penguin’s ass with my laptop keeping my lap warm.

I want to go to Bread Garden to check if that really hot chick I saw there two weeks ago is there… She looked like she was waiting for someone, or something to happen. But the exciting game is keeping me glued to the two pieces of technology I despise.

As I explore the world of blogs, the amount of writing and content on the internet shocks me. There are endless links to wonderful, artsy blogs. Most of them are all so wonderful… beautiful… inspiring. How I wish mine was like that, too.

Or maybe I wish I wasn’t chained to this beautiful world at all. Then I could roam the world outside for once. Run around in the wild with the sun shining on my face (instead of the glow of the LCD screen).

But I love reading people’s writing. Especially if they’re better and more intriguing than mine. And currently, I love the Montreal Canadiens!!! (Canucks were a disappointment last night)

Yay for them winning the series :D and nay for me sitting in front of radiation all day long. I think I should sign off and do some healthy exercise. Step One towards freeing myself from electronics: turn off all power supply.

Calls For a Reply

Why do most of my writing inspirations come up at late nights, when I am fatigued and unable have the luxury of time to finish my thoughts? Is time truly measurable? Or is it more metaphorical? It looks linear, but really, is it not circular?

Speaking of time… what’s with the kids in our generation having short attention spans? We never seem to focus for a long time, whether it be working on a project or studying for an exam. There are way too many distractions. The world wide web ranks number 1, then our own weak wills follows closely behind.

Why is my thinking and writing specific to my computer (or a particular one that “feels” right), or else I can’t write? The last time I tried writing somewhere else, it took me an hour and a half just to proofread a draft that I had written the night before…

Why do I sacrifice sleep for my writing? Is it really that important? Why do inspirations come late at night, when it’s silent and dark? And do I owe it a documentation? What if I don’t write it down and it never comes back? Do I find something else to lament or do I go back and attempt a search for a less satisfying topic, like…

You fall for me yet you don’t know me. You fail to grasp the details that make me who I am. And here I thought I was the cruel one, not giving you what you want to make you happy. But I now realize that I should stop punishing myself for what had happened. Why do I even try to be your friend? You say you care, but really you’re no better than an amnesic. Either that or you’re always drunk when you talk to me because you don’t seem to remember anything about me. So, seriously. Figure yourself out first before you try to figure me out. ‘Cuz whatever you’re doing now ain’t working, girl.

I write and then I write some more. Thinking goes on all day, and I only have a more or less 4-hour window to jot everything down. I wish the world is more innocent. What if things aren’t as complicated as they seem? Would I have a smaller brain? Or maybe it’d be all the same.

Faith

Faith. It’s the engine of everything I do. Well, maybe not all the time, but just about anything anyway.

Flipping back in my notebook, I come across the notes for a World Literature class I took in fall 2008. On the last page of the notes, in point-form, I documented the class when we were in a teleconference with Gina Ochsner, an award-winning author. We had been assigned to read two of her short stories,Articles of Faith and Halves of a Whole in her book People I Wanted to Be. It’s been almost two years now, and only the titles sounds vaguely familiar. But I remember her stories centered around the themes of the “good” supernatural forces and magical realism. She believes in ghosts and is superstitious. Regardless of how skeptical I was about the beliefs she held, I enjoyed her stories. Then when she she mentioned that

faith is the engine of her writing

I had no doubt she was going to be a great writer (as if she wasn’t already).

Faith is sure belief and trust. Faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of things even if you cannot see them.

Having faith in what I do, what I want to do, and what I can accomplish is what gets me through the day. I don’t know how anyone can carry on with their life without having at least a little bit of faith. I can’t guarantee that my degree will ensure me a well-paying job. But I have faith in myself, in what I learnt and will learn, and in my abilities that I will eventually get there. Having faith in life helps you to accomplish a lot of things, things which you might otherwise think is impossible.

Yet like how life is unfair, there are times when spirits are weary and your faith can wear thin. When that does happen, doubt starts to settle and your belief and trust weavers. So… what then, what if you do lose faith? You sink really really low… and it’ll probably take a long time to rebuild your faith. That’s when friends and family comes in handy. And hopefully their faith is infectious enough that at least you can take a little faith bug away from them.

Then you can pick up where you left off. Or not, if it’s better to start new.

I’d like to believe that I’m a pretty faithful person. Yet I don’t know if I have faith in my writing. I love using words to express myself. Sometimes they are not the most appropriate, or that they reveal too much. Writing makes me feel vulnerable… when I am indeed writing about what I’m feeling. But I guess I wouldn’t be doing it unless I have at least a little faith. Even the tiniest amount counts. Faith, it’s what carries you and me across the page.

March Onwards

Recently my friend has inspired me with her own project: 365 days of yoga. Yes, she’s doing a year of yoga. And the best part of the process (in my opinion) is that she’s blogging about it. So far it has been 11 days. But knowing her (somewhat), this is going well!

Looking back, my February numbers were really lame. Yeah, okay, it was a short month. But ONE post in 28 days? That’s a little extreme. Maybe things were taking my mind off writing for a while, but I should’ve kept journaling anyway. I think I’m going to start now, in March. Since j-town is doing her yoga thing, I figure I’d do my writing thing. So, I’m hoping to write at least ONE POST PER DAY —no pressure! I just really need to remember the thoughts which are worth expanding into legitimate arguments or rational opinions.

BUT!!! There are no “blog police” around. So I can write whatever I want. Like now, when I want to write about judgment/ hypocrisy, I’m writing about WHY I’m writing. And my blog content. I always worry that whatever I write won’t be interesting enough for my readers. I suppose that’s why I don’t always have a steady readership: my posts are so random. They range from rants to random stories I come up with on the spot to poetry. How very diverse of me.

All silliness aside, I am writing more. And will continue to do so —hopefully.