write or not to write

I just thought I should write 20 minutes in the morning everyday, that way, I will be sure to have a chance to write before my day is over.   I have been thinking about the idea of becoming a writer, but I doubt myself just as soon as I think everything is hopeful.  Maybe my writings are not going anywhere, but writing is the moment that is meaningful to me, when I am alone with my thoughts and my thoughts are alone with me.

So I was working on a story and I finished the 1st draft for writing it into a screenplay.  I finally did it and I was pretty proud of myself.  I was transforming my emotions from real life experiences to a creative work, and I actually enjoyed it.  I used to write about my emotions in journals, but now writing in screenplay form is different, because the energy is transformed into something for a different purpose. The energy, unlike the emotion being presented in the form of a diary, is not raw anymore, but reconstructed in a meaningful way with imagination.

I enjoy writing, but I don’t know if I will be good at it.  I want to write and create, and I want to feel my knees tremble as I see my work displayed in public.  But another part of me keeps on telling myself that it’s not practical to be a writer and there is no meaning to have my private thoughts shared with the rest of the world because the consequence is to my own disadvantage.  “Other than the inability to write, your experiences only prove you are a loser,” the analyzing part of me says (she can be really mean sometimes).

I know my fears, but still I am hoping that I could be a writer, simply because, I just like myself too much.   I like to know what I have experienced and what I have been experiencing emotionally.   I want to write about my thoughts, whether good or bad, light or dark, because they are a part of me.  Even if my writings don’t have a point, at least I’d have enjoyed myself in the process.   The creative process gives me energy, and then I give energy back into my work.

I am just happier if I accept who I am.  I might have tried to persuade myself into becoming what I think I should become from time to time, however, I never asked myself if I should write.  Maybe I would decide when, or how long I would like to write, but writing to me is not much a choice.  I just “need” to write.  If I don’t write about my feelings, I feel stuck.  Now I think my writings feel stuck because they want to become a story: a story has an energy of its own.   Maybe that’s why writers are said to be like mid-wives, who help to give birth to a new energy, and hopefully, the new energy will go on to help others to keep on going.

And the last thing I know is, if I just let myself write, the 20 minutes will last forever.

(Image from Google)

Sewing teacher

  This morning, I remebered my sewing teacher in my college year.  I was not a good student because I had problems with myself.  One day, she gave me a big portion of her lunch.  “It’s too much for me,” she explained.

She was thin, spoke in a high-pitched voice, her hair curled up.  She always looked respectable and neat.  She sometimes took her husband who moved in a wheelchair to the classroom after class.  She was a good, funny, very self-disciplined teacher, but I was a dreamy and irresponsible student who might have disappointed her.

I knew she was nice to me to offer me her lunch.  I thanked her (even though I didn’t really want the steak).  The thing is, now I understand her kindness, and how she cared for me in a subtle way.  It gives me a warm feeling, and the understanding makes me feel grateful.  But now I also understand how I just couldn’t care for anyone else but myself at that time.

Perhaps this is what growing up is all about.  I wish I could’ve been a better student not just for the people who cared for me, but also for my own sake.  But the fact is, I couldn’t do what I couldn’t do.  However, it doesn’t mean that I won’t be able to do what I couldn’t do “someday”.  Frustration, anger, and self-doubt come along the way.  But the point is not giving up on yourself.  Because if you kept your patience, the day will come, the day you’ll see how you’ve grown.

(Image from Google)