Tag: writing

single dog/1

I’ve decided to start writing again. Not sure what to write about but just kind of feel like writing again. I guess writing is a way to talk to my unconscious self. There is voice in my head that needs to be listened to. Now that I’ve decided to write again, what should I write about? I’ve been chatting with strangers on the net. Should I write about that? Should I write about him? Should I write about myself? Or should I write about philosophy?! The big questions. What are they?

I am not sure but I should just keep writing until I find out what I want to write about. Then I should be okay. Sometimes I think I think too much. There is nothing to be worried about. I mean, what difference would it make, worrying or not worrying? I’d probably die sooner from the stress of worrying. That being said, if I just do what I feel like, would my life be better?I think once I stop worrying, I know what I really want to do. And if I just do that, then I would get satisfaction from fulfilling my desire. I think life is not only about fulfilling desires, but what would a life be like without fulfilling desires?    

I have been taking a walk to the beach almost every morning and it is very healing. I suspect myself to become depressed if I don’t see the ocean, though I didn’t think much about it in the beginning; I thought it was just good exercise.  I take a photo of the ocean and the island nearby and I sit on the bench and just listen to one song from my playlist and then return home.    Often I feel lost. Especially in the morning, I don’t know what to do with my time, and the day ahead can be a overwhelming dread.  What should I do today?  What do I want to do today?  What do I need to do today?

The questions started bugging me in the back of my head and tried to remind me to be someone who knows how to take care of herself, someone who knows what to do with herself and to be responsible for her life. A big lie. The truth is I don’t know what to do with myself or my time. And why should I? Because I am an adult who has already lived half of her life and a mother of two teenagers? That’s just bullshit. I never know what to do with myself. One day as I sit and look at the vast blueness and seeing the colors changing by the sunlight and the clouds at every moment, I realized that the ocean really heals. It feels like my emotions, good or bad, are all absorbed by the ocean: all is forgiven. And I am reset.

week 19

INT. DINNING ROOM – MORNING

Reading the book “How to Be an Existentialist”, I started to reflect that what has happened in my life is kind of existentialish. Or at least I’d like to think it that way.

Just about everyone has a problem or problems of their own making. Hopefully, once we see the problem, we will have the determination to change ourselves. Like the saying: “You can lead to a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink”, you can lead a person to see a problem, but he is the only person who can take the responsibility for living his life.

Time is a tricky thing. Every second you can change your thinking and perspective to something else. Every second you can change your life for the better or worse, with a snap change of attitude. It’s really up to you, but every second becomes your responsibility. Time is very heavy, yet it’s invisible.

Every second is a choice.

When I asked myself what I wanted to do if I could do anything I wanted today, I wanted to write.

week 19

INT. STARBUCKS –

Early birds sitting around me, chatting.

Dressed in black and white, I arrived two hours before my shift by mistake and I ended up coming to the bookstore. Now I only have one more hour left.

“If only I had my iPad or a book!” I complained to my LINE group of friends. But then I realized that I could type on my phone like what I’m doing now. I remember the first time when I typed on my phone on my bed in the darkness on a cold winter night, I thought “Wow~~” I felt it was so awesome that I could write whenever and wherever I want to.

I don’t remember what else I did in the last hour: I emailed E’s teacher to make an appointment. I checked the LINE conversations. I drank my latte. I checked Messenger. No reply from him yet.

But as soon as I realized I started browsing the net and wasting energy on random events, I thought I should find something to write with.

Yes, I can still type like this with my phone when nothing else is available!

week 2/2018

K’s grandmother passed away on December 23rd, 2017, the day of our arrival in Japan. I went to Taipei with the kids on December 26th to 28th, went shopping with K in Kyoto and Umeda after we returned to Osaka; returned to Hawaii on January 5th, went to the doctor on the 11th, contacted the travel agent and our next trip to Osaka in March is already booked.

During my trip, I contacted Jim after all it’s said and done. I guess it’s finally over between us now. It was painful for me to see what happened and relive the experience which I had forgotten. I was young and vulnerable back in high school, but I survived and it’s all that matters. I imagined what would happen if I was not married and if I were to get back with him, but I only see that nothing will change in the end, just like what happened between me and G.

Relationships are like science: the trick is to know enough so you know when to say no.

And I am tired of stories. Tired of hearing people’s voices. Justice is what we want after all; we just don’t want to admit it depending on which is to our advantage, and in that sense the truth is always manipulated. Nevertheless, we all have a need to tell the truth, perhaps to make ourselves feel better, like what G said, and perhaps, I have run into self-doubt again, so I started to tell myself that the truth doesn’t matter because it’s only self-justification.

Yeah, the need to tell the truth is why I am writing. (Besides the need to release tension from my sex deprivation.)

Last night I had a dream of me getting an F for the writing class. I guess I am really scared of being judged, although I know by now that a writer needs to put her work out there because it’s what writers do: put yourself out there and be judged whether you like it or not because the whole writing thing is one giant learning process.

Remembering my dream, I quickly went online, and was unable able to believe what I saw at first–I got an A. I bursted into tears soon after I checked it again, thinking the teacher was too kind and how little confidence I have. As much as I thought I was indifferent to grades, the tiny letter does give me the encouragement to keep writing. It seemed to whisper in my ear: don’t give up just yet!

week 48/day 17

I realized that I might not be as healthy as I think I am. On Thursday night, I had a breakdown when E refused to put the games in my room as he had promised. I just started crying so hard and thinking that I didn’t have to do this to myself, trying to be a writer and taking care of kids and working; it’s all just too much for me to handle.

Then I thought about mom and how she must have struggled through all the resistance from people around her. Ambition and the desire to protect her family were what helped her to success at business, and I feel I could be ambitious too when I try to be a better writer. But I realized that ambition is not what makes me happy; it’s being who I am that makes me happy. I don’t want to do it anymore if being a good writer means I have to become someone who I am not.

I enjoy writing when I write for myself because writing is like a process of problem-solving to me. Therefore it often doesn’t make sense to other people when my writings read like how I had solved my problem in my head, without a context: this is the self-understanding I gained after taking the creative nonfiction class. I have also learned that the writing skills and the techniques should only serve as tools to help me find my clarity, instead of to nourish my desire for recognition. What’s the most precious about writing is finding one’s thoughts and I hope everything I have learned in class will help me to find and polish my thoughts.

week 48/day 15

ENG 273N is finally over. I feel a little overwhelmed with the sad feeling that we won’t see each other anymore, yet a sense of relief that it’s over. I know I am not a good writer, but I am glad that I met so many creative people who shared their stories with integrity.

I think writing begins when one puts thought on paper, but the thought is just a thought if it ends there. Without the chance of being communicated, a thought will forever only be a thought and never complete what it’s capable of doing, its call to action.

It’s really up to the person what she wants to do with her idea, so why do you want to have yourself heard or share your thoughts with the rest of the world?

The teacher never answers the question, but I guess it’s really a personal preference, like there are people who want to be heard and who couldn’t care less, and there are people who are good at expressing themselves and those who are not. Then there are those who keep trying.

In that sense, I feel it’s okay to give up my ambition to become a professional (?) writer because I know I will always be trying — trying to be clear and to share because it’s what makes me human.

week 47/day 10

Every good piece of writing reveals a truth about the writer, whereas great writing reveal a truth about the world. A story shows us its author’s picture of the world, whereas creative nonfiction is like an author’s self-portrait.

I am collecting data of my writing progress by using the writing tracker from the book “diy MFA”. Since I am not good at time management, it’s a good idea for me to record and analyze my progress so I can be more effective. I guess the desire to write not only for oneself should be what separates a good writer and a lazy one.

It’s been windy with light showers recently. I slept from about 1 am and got up around 10:30 am today. I need to go to sleep early because if I don’t sleep early, my body and my mind don’t recover from sleeping late. Today I couldn’t stick to the cleaning plan as I usually do on Saturdays.

I feel anxious about writing after I bought many good books on writing yesterday. I was overwhelmed and didn’t know were to start. Then I suddenly realized that I’d better start reading first and then pick up what I need to do along the way.

Sometimes I feel like giving up on writing, but I also feel like working hard to become a good writer when I am upset about something. Perhaps now I know how writing helps me to release negative energy and transform the energy into something constructive.

I’ve learned from my experiences that the emotions at the subconscious level have a big influence on one’s actions. Since such emotions are hidden, one’s actions can’t be explained until you try to understand what’s buried under one’s consciousness by looking at the big picture.

Writing is a way for me to find my own truth. My writing style is to present the facts (the situation and the actions taken) and let the readers decide who the character is and what they can learn from her experience.

week 46/day 1

Eventually I started to think that I should give up writing because I realize that I live in my head most of the time. I feel this way so much so that I can’t describe what’s surrounding me and what I write are mostly thoughts. I really don’t have the ability to see things and describe them and show them, and I don’t know if I care to show them or not.

But the good thing is I think I have found out what I wanted to say in my story. It’s what I once read in the astrology reading: “Sometimes the ego cannot win.” The unconscious is powerful and it explains human behavior. I want to acknowledge its presence and the force of the unconscious with my story.

My problem is that my writing doesn’t have the kind of things that good writings require and I doubt if I will ever have it because of my personality. But in any case, I find the effort in trying to share one’s knowledge to be a rewarding learning experience.

week 35/day 9

I am at a cafe and just ate half of a blueberry scone and after this, I will force myself to read for my class at the school library. Creative non-fiction might be my genre because I am honest and I am interested in big ideas and I write about my experiences all the time. I like to read the scientific books, which means I am interested in facts. I still need to read more and learn how to write because my writing doesn’t have the research part and it lacks the language skills that good writing needs.

I have started to take English 273N, a creative non-fiction writing class at a community college. I wish to write something I like and complete my stories, so I can move on to something new. Maybe I will take a philosophy class next year? Or a film writing class? Or I will keep writing creative non-fiction.

But another part of me is trying to escape, like how I tried to escape from studying philosophy in school in the past. I was interested in philosophy, but I couldn’t commit myself to my courses. When I had to work on reading or assignments, I just wanted to go shopping and do something else instead. I was being irresponsible.

Maybe I am trying to escape from the possible failure and embarrassment. I wonder if my work will be good enough and people will like it at all. Nevertheless, I will write for myself first. Even if it’s not good, I will enjoy myself and know that I’ve done my best.

I really miss writing journals and having them edited and posting them to the blog. It’s not for anyone else but me, and the simple activity makes me happy. I enjoy writing for myself when I don’t feel the pressure to try to be accepted.