Anyway. I figured I’d start posting here again, since, you know, I bothered to renew my domains and shit. Might as well use them. I am aware I kinda stopped posting late last year. I blame uni/NaNoWriMo and a general lack of intellectual thought process with which to write entries with.

I figured I’d loosen the format (wait, I have a format?) a little. Maybe not bother with trying to make super-epic formal intelekshual entries and just write something. Anything. Even if it’s me bitching about assignments. Any entry is better than none, I suppose.

Summer so far as been slow. I survived Christmas, my birthday, and the New Year, and have come out the other side slightly tired but ready for other things. Uni starts again in three weeks as well. That’ll keep me out of trouble. I have afternoon classes this semester to, which will be lovely.

This also means it’s time for stationery shopping, which, it has to be said, is one of my favourite past-times. I will take myself shopping next week and purchase some books and pencils and shit. Things will be good.

My current music playlist has somewhat diversified lately, as well. I don’t know, I seem to have a knack for knowing when I’ll like a particular band/album/artist/etc. This has not let me down very often. Current obsessions are The Darkness, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Daft Punk, Depeche Mode, and Cyndi Lauper. Why, yes, I am awesome. Thanks for noticing.

I have been writing this month though, which has been nice. Got a few ideas for original fiction I’m developing, amongst other things. One involves space pixies and terrestrial fairies and is apparently going to be a trilogy. More on this when it’s more than just a list of what I’d like it to include.

Apart from that, not much else has been happening. I like that January is somewhat slow. I feel like I need it, after the chaos that was November and December. Kinda took a lot out of me. But at least I’m still here, and in one piece, so yes. Might leave this here or I’ll end up rambling for another three hundred words.

Anyway. I suppose it’s been nice not feeling the urge to write so much. I mean, sometimes you need some space to just let ideas gel and emerge and form themselves into a coherent form, and sometimes that doesn’t happen when all you’re doing is writing.

Other writers might call this spate of not being able to write ‘writer’s block’. But I don’t see it that way. I’m not blocked, I’m just giving space to ideas. For me, in spite of my feeling that I would die if I couldn’t write, I don’t spend most of my time writing. I sleep, I shower, I eat, I watch TV and videos, I game, I go to class, I study, I spend time on public transport, I occasionally work. When I have the time, I write. When the muses prod me enough, I write. When I absolutely can’t keep the words in any longer, I write.

Being a writer is a strange thing for some people to understand. Just like I don’t really grasp what it’s like to be a musician, so non-writers don’t get writers and why we do what we do, and how. I always have words singing in my head. They’re like… little scrappy ideas. Sometimes, they don’t take long to be fully formed, sometimes they take much longer, and some don’t get written at all.

So sometimes an idea needs to float around in my brain until it’s ready to be written, and to me, just because I’m not physically writing words on paper doesn’t mean I suddenly have writer’s block because I’m still thinking about writing and those little ides that wanted more time to develop. That time to develop can mean the difference between something getting finished and something remaning as a little scrappy idea I thought was interesting at the time. If you looked at my hard drive and my inbox, you’ll find many ideas that I wrote down as they came to me and subsequently went nowhere after that.

There are weeks when I’m struggling to think of something to write here, and certainly university aids in giving me suitable material on which to ruminate until some sort of idea forms in my head enough to write about it. If anything, this blog is full of little scrappy ideas I could use for other things if I wanted to develop them further. If, you know, I had the time and inspiration to do so. Which I don’t. So there.

I’m an inherently disorganised person. I always have been. I’m also in no rush to get things done. I finish things in my own time and in my own way. I have infinite patience with life. Things happen when they happen. Why hurry? Life’s too short to rush through it at breakneck speed. You’ll miss all the good things that need time to be seen, rather than glanced at and forgotten.

As much as I adore music, it’s written in a totally different language and my brain can’t interpret it or understand it. Now, music with lyrics, on the other hand, because there are words, written words, I can cling to them and understand them as if they’re a translation of the music. This is why instrumental music is often boring to me. There’s nothing to hold my interest and nothing to tell me what’s going on.

So while for some, music with lyrics is distracting because the lyrics distrupt their writing, for me it’s the opposite. Music with lyrics I find far easier to write to than instrumental music because it’s music I can understand. It’s like the difference between me watching a film in Cantonese (which I don’t speak), without subtitles, to watching the same film with subtitles. One I can understand, the other I can’t. Visuals aren’t enough for me to interpret what’s going on; I need the words to translate those visuals into something I can understand.
I always have a frustratingly awesome time writing musicians though, because in some ways, I can understand them and their relationship to music, but in other ways it’s an utterly foreign way of thinking and being. I am not a musician, I am a writer. I live, breathe and think in words. Not music, not pictures, not poetry. Straight prose. Words. Wordswordswords. That is how I understand the world. It’s difficult for me to grasp how a non-writer experiences the world. All I have to draw on are my own experiences, and that isn’t always helpful.

I often wonder if other creative people are like this too, that they can’t quite ‘get’ other ways of thinking/creating and in some way require a translator.

Apologies if I’m not being clear. I’m doing my best to explain something that’s not easy to explain. It’s like… writing, words, the urge to write, it’s instinctive, like breathing, living, everything. .It’s in every fibre of my being. I can’t comprehend not writing, or not being able to write. I’m somewhat more scared of losing my ability to write than of dying. Everyone dies. But if I lost the ability to write… It scares me. I need to be able to write. I think I would die if I didn’t or couldn’t write. It’s not something I can just switch on and off, some sort of hobby. It’s an impulsive urge that is difficult to ignore. When the muses strike, nothing else matters, just getting the stor down before the muses go away again.

Okay. I would like to admit to a little clandestine drawing on the side, which I indulge in occasionally. I don’t see myself as an artist, and most of the art I do is to complement my own writing. I do my own fanart, basically. XD So there are some areas of visual art I understand, and I’m good with abstract symbols, but it’s mostly an art form I do not understand and tend to have little interest in.

But I think I’ve written enough for the moment. I appear to have hit a dead end. I’ll probably write more on this later when I get a chance to think on it some more. I’m all out of thoughts now.