scribbles

“2 AM and I’m still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you’ll use them, however you want to”

- Anna Nalick

“Breathe”

yes so i’m in love

with these lips of yours

they flirt coyly

with my conscience

as if they know i cannot refuse anything they propose

i love the way they get after my

bite

brilliant raspberry red

deliciously inviting

come a little closer

let me get a taste.

so many children, yet so little childhood.

i heart music. i heart rock. i heart smart boys. i heart butterfly kisses. i heart holding hands during the scary part of a movie. i heart laughing at my own jokes. i heart dark chocolate. i heart apple shampoo. i heart puppy dogs. i heart big rings. i heart beach kisses. i heart laughing so hard your stomach hurts. i heart giggling. i heart text messaging. i heart peanut m&ms. i heart roller coasters. i heart sleeping to the sound of the sea. i heart pretty boys. i heart the cinema. i heart arundhati roy. i heart black eye liner. i heart jumping on beds. i heart gossiping. i heart theatre. i heart books. i heart paintings. i heart dyc. i heart receiving mail. i heart lollipops. i heart driving and singing along to the radio. i heart my ipod. i heart paneer. i heart sushi. i heart china. i heart shopping. i heart clothes. i heart history. i heart the smell of rain. i heart wasabi. i heart chopsticks. i heart africa. i heart bvlgari blue. i heart photographs. i heart the surfboard at dyc. i heart oasis. i heart poetry. i heart getting dressed up. i heart being called "peaches" and sometimes even "ducky". i heart lisps. i heart finding money in a pocket randomly. i heart waking up before the alarm clock..and realizing you still have a few hours of sleep left. i heart good hair days. i heart traveling. i heart doodling. i heart suprises. i heart chick flicks. i heart boxes. i heart the number 13. i heart the beach. i heart hugs. i heart cuddling. i heart kisses on the forehead. i heart being tickled. i heart big windows. i heart making cloud pictures. i heart massages. i heart "iris" by the goo goo dolls. i heart breakfast food. i heart dancing. i heart swimming. i heart talking on the phone. i heart peanut butter with nutella. i heart kinder eggs. i heart "toy story". i heart paul frank. i heart zanzibar. i heart guys in suits. i heart pineapple (on pizza). i heart arcade games. i heart golden retrievers. i heart holding hands. i heart hammocks. i heart pina coladas made by carla. i heart summer. i heart piggy back rides. i heart "heart lists".

“We can be quiet together, and pretend – since it is only the beginnig – that we have all the time in the world.”

“And everyday we shall have less. And then none.”

“Would you rather, therefore have had nothing at all?”

“No. This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now and those other times are running elsewhere.”

– A.S Byatt, Possession

Don't know why I'm still afraid
If you weren't real I would make you up
now
I wish that I could follow through
I know that your love is true
And deep
As the sea
But right now
Everything you want is wrong,
And right now
All your dreams are waking up,
And right now
I wish I could follow you
To the shores
Of freedom,
Where no one lives.

– Joseph Arthur

"Honey and the Moon"

“Sir, I admit your general rule

That every poet is a fool

But you yourself may serve to show it

That every fool is not a poet”

– Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I can’t say that I’ve always known I wanted to write. At first I wanted to be an artist because I thought coloring in my coloring books as child was fun, and then I wanted to be a vet because I had just got my first puppy. But when I wanted to be a writer it was first the appeal of the soulful, deep, thinker that sat in coffee shops all day typing incessantly on a sleek laptop, while pausing perhaps to chew thoughtfully on a pencil or to sip the Espresso on the side. However somehow my passion for writing stayed, even after I realized that I probably wouldn’t be able to sit and sip coffee all day and even after I realized not every person who called themselves a writer could wake up one morning and write the next Booker prize.

The writing I think, started off with the most selfish of reasons; because it felt good. It felt good to formalize or just see my thoughts in front of me, and not a mess of tangled musings floating somewhere in my head. Through writing, journalistic or creative, writers are able to experience everything twice, from actually experiencing an emotion or event to the arrangement of it on a page. For the readers as well as writers the words on the page immortalizes that moment, that feeling that can encompass more than a memory because the writing is alive, it represents that moment in its entirety whereas a memory may have a few gaps, alterations and subject to the erosion of time. Writing is more than any 1000 words a picture can paint because writing lends the thoughts and emotion to those who read it, a picture can only scratch the surface.   

i usually only write creatively because i think you can hide behind it. when you write you can take on a different self, your characters can be anyone, and they don’t neccesarily have to be a reflection of yourself. i guess that goes with most art forms, its the freedom to be someone else and live in a different world that attracts most people. the actor, the performer is always somebody else on stage, the writer can be someone else through words and the artist’s art is usually a physical representation of this fantasy.

focusing on writing now, most people say that you should write what you know. i can understand that, emotion and feeling can be best described and conveyed if you’ve actually been through it yourself. experience is a wonderful tool. but then, what happens to imagination? imagination - the ability to imagine is what sets us apart from animals, its part of what makes us human. books like the lord of the rings would have be unheard of without imagination as we can be sure that jrr tolkein did not know of any hobbits personally. so writing what you know can’t always be a good thing. sometimes people want to be lost in a book because its about something that’s so far removed from their lives. if art can’t provide a means to escape, or provide solace…what will it do for society?

the same goes for acting. some schools of thought say that when acting you should you bring the emotions and experiences from your own life in order to create a more convincing performance. logically this makes sense, if you’ve actually gone through an emotion then bringing it out again on stage will make your performance more realistic. but then is regurgitating old emotions acting? acting is about presenting something you’re not, creating an illusion – but if you’re using past experiences in your acting then you’re not acting, you’re representing reality. isn’t the ability to express emotion and character that is so far removed from yourself the makings of a truly great actor?

now since i’ve probably labelled myself as pretentious to all those who happen to read this, i might as well stop before i start getting hate mail or something. well maybe atleast that would liven up this site.