Saturday, June 15, 2013

Does Good Mean Sad?

I'm having writer's block. Well... that's not exactly an accurate statement. See, I've been telling stories since I was a baby babbling at my toys from the jolly-jumper, I've been thinking of my story ideas since I was 9, and been seriously putting these stories to paper since I was 14, I've got "writer" ingrained into my soul. I write fiction for fun. And I write for myself: my thoughts, opinions, woes, musings. Sometimes when I'm writing for myself I have so many ideas that I can't even put them down fast enough; sometimes I just start talking to myself, spewing ideas and opinions about the world, it's past, present and future, and what scares me about it.

Writing used to come easily for me. I could just sit at the keyboard and the story would come pouring out. It always had a dark twist, as they say "sad stories make good books." It used to be so simple for me to write the dark and depressing stuff, in fact I sought it out in reading material. But as I have grown up I have gotten a different spin on things, become more sensitized towards it I guess. I don't want to write about death and destruction and war, but then where does the plot line go? There has to be a conflict and a resolution in a basic story line, we did that in basic high school English classes.

And so when unwilling to write about the dark stuff, writing fiction comes harder and harder. But why is that? Why is it that I'm so convinced a story will not be good if it's only happy? Do stories have to be sad and sinister to be good? And here's another spin on things: does someone have to die in order to have the desired conflict necessary for the "good story"? So many things to think about. For the meantime I am stuck with a pile of half-started stories and novels, and no ideas as to how to proceed with them.

I know I am a good writer, I've been at it long enough. Some day I'll be one of the classics. But in order for someday to come, I have to get through today. And today I'm just a girl with writer's block.

I'm sure they all said that at one point or another... 

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Life Blood


I gave blood for the first time today. I had tried before, last week, but got a bit light headed just from the pin-prick when they checked my hemoglobin levels, so that didn't work. However, it was important for me to do it, so back I went today to try again. I knew exactly what they were going to do, and how it was going to work, so I thought as long as I didn't look at it all would be well. And for the most part it was. They take a pint of blood each time you donate, and I didn't quite get that far because although I wasn't squeamish about it, the blood loss made me dizzy anyway and they had to stop. That being said, they got enough out that it counts as my very first donation. Even if they didn't quite get enough to give to someone, they can still use it in research, or for medicine or treatment products. I have a donor card on the way, and in 56 days I will be able to try again.

This week is national blood donation week. The need is great, and the results save lives.  I have very good, healthy blood and now someone somewhere will benefit from it. For me personally, because my grandmother died from kidney failure, and my aunt was killed in a car crash, both well before their times, so it was important for me to do this.

If you have ever considered donating, I recommend looking into whether or not you can. It is uncomfortable, but it is also extremely rewarding.  

As their slogan says: it's in you to give.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

An insight into me, myself and others

It is a known fact that we are generally more critical of ourselves than we are of anyone or anything else. Well, I am no exception to this. And the older I get the more I have noticed this about myself, and I have found it has started to impede my life - in terms of happiness, and also in terms of actually having a life, which I currently do not.

Even now, as I'm sitting here writing this I keep going back, auto-correcting, editing, constantly going back to fix what I've said, to make it better, convinced that if it isn't perfect it'll make me sound like a babbling idiot. There was a time when writing came much faster and easier for me. I can remember sitting in grade 11 English class, assigned to make a children's book for my grade 1 reading buddy, and faced with the task of coming up with the story board. And I was stuck. I don't write from a structured outline like that, I just start writing, and the story comes to me as I work through it. Or at least it did.

As I worked my way through the end of high school and into the beginning of university I became more and more concerned about how people saw me; what were they thinking of me by the things I said and did, the way I acted etc.? I screened everything carefully, and thus turned myself into a side-liner, and not always a happy one at that.

Looking now at the people I admire most, the people who, in my mind anyway, have happy, full, engaging lives, are the way they are because they don't screen everything they do and say. Now granted, at some point everyone will say something they immediately regret, will think "I should have thought about that before I said it" that's just a fact of life. But for the most part, as it has been told time and again, just being yourself is more important.

And I am a writer. I can't help it, it's inside of me. There are too many thoughts in my head at one time; big thoughts, worldly thoughts, philosophical thoughts. They have to come out. And like most writers, I wanted all my thoughts to be shared with others. Not everything, some things are just too personal to share with anybody, but some of my bigger questions, my ponderings and musings. That's where this blog came from: a way to share my thoughts in a manner that others could see. And then a few months later I stopped because.... well really, I was 15, who knows why I did anything!

But then talking with a seasoned and wise woman in my family, and an experienced blogger herself, she inspired me to start again. Because I'm not writing this to be analyzed by others, or to be judged. I'm writing it for me. There is no "right way to do it." If there are big gaps, if it doesn't look like other blogs, that doesn't matter. That's not what's important.

While in high school, I found that every year I learned one major valuable thing about myself that enabled me to grow up, and change and adapt into adulthood. Well, here's something else: I'm not done learning yet. There never comes a point in a life when there aren't new things to discover, about the world or about yourself. I am a writer, and I do it because I want to, I need to and I enjoy it. I want others to read what I have to say, and eventually become known and loved, but for right now, doing it just for me in my own way is good enough.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Youth and Innocence

Have you ever heard the expression "ignorance is bliss?" It could be interpreted as offensive, I mean, the term ignorance is not used in kind context anymore. But if you think about it, there is truth to the statement. To be ignorant is to be unaware, and sometimes being unaware of the goings-on around us can help to retain our happiness. There is a lot of hardship in the world right now, and it can get pretty bogged down and depressing if you start thinking too hard about it. Ignorance is bliss, aka: unknowing is happiness.

What about "children are resilient" have you ever heard that one? That's another good saying. If you're talking about innocence, children are as good as it gets. At birth, there are 2 things a baby knows instinctively how to do: suck, grab. That's it. Everything else has to be learned and acquired later on. It is said that being born is the scariest experience that can ever happen. Now mind you, that's said from the cushy, fortunate North American stand-point. I'm sure there are those in the world who would think differently on that. But lets say it is. So, there you are, warm and safe all bundled up in this dark little cocoon, and then suddenly you're rudely shoved out head first into this bright loud place, poked and prodded and who knows what else. And then, your put in the arms of the woman who carried you inside her for all those months. Wrapped up, warm against her skin safe and innocent once more.

Children are epitome are youth and innocence. They don't control who has them, where they are born, what happens surrounding their birth. They are born into the world and have to adapt to whatever their situation is. Sometimes they are wanted and loved and cherished, other times pampered and spoiled beyond belief. Sometimes they are unwanted, rejected, burdening. Sometimes they are forced to grow up too fast because there are others who need things from them and they don't get to need anything for themselves. But through it all, they are resilient and they are innocent.

You can put a toddler in a car, and they can fall asleep in the blink of an eye, and when they wake up they could be at home, or the grocery store or in Mexico, and they still sleep because they haven't yet learned not to trust the people who have them in their care. That comes later. For a few short and sweet years, they are ignorantly in bliss. We talk about people ruining the world, well maybe the world ruins people. It is said that the hardest thing about this world is living in it, death is the easy part. And it's true, the world is not an easy place to live in. Bad things happen, often things beyond our control and we have to adapt. Everyone has to learn that at some point.

So, let children be innocent. Keep them sheltered and safe from knowing what they can become capable of. Retain them in a bubble of warmth and pampering and love. Let them fall asleep not knowing where they'll be when they wake up, but trusting that they will be all right. We have the rest of our lives to know stuff. Let ignorance and bliss last as long as it can.