Writing vs. Art

You know how words just simply flow in your head when you're planning the Gonna-Write(TM)? Well, i hate that. Cause that means by the time i switch the computer on, all those beautiful words would have leaked out like an unclogged pipe! Yeah, in other words, i sound half as intelligent as i do in my head. Hmm.. but switching the perspective around, i suppose the fact that i'm much too arrogant in my abilities might be the cause of that. I mean, if there's no one to tell you 'You suck!', you're be able to praise yourself all the more right? XD

Haha!!

Okay, not the point. No philosophy. Darn, i just remembered i left my book downstairs. Anyway, i've got a semi-major problem. I've always divided the outlet for my tension through three mediums. The first is writing, the second: art and the third... well, that's probably babble. I try to bottle up my emotions because if it flows too much into the third, then what'll happen to the first and the second? I suppose this isn't a fear i air that often cause it isn't something anyone can solve. How do you vanquish shadows formed by your own hands? Someone's either gonna have to cover it or push it away from the light. Let there be emptiness or something.

Alright, digressing again.

The main problem is... what if i favor one over the other? I think i'm a person who always wants what she can't have. The dress that costs 600 bucks? Damn, i bet i'd just drool over it until it's in my hands. Then, yadda! Nothing. My dreams are pretty much the same way too. I've got what i want, which is to be a writer. I'm going to be one, by hook or by crook (actually the worst case scenario is that i'll starve before anything happens). But now, i find that i express myself better in my art. Like, a world, formed by my own hands is ambiguous enough to reflect my emotions, wholly. It's different from my writing which is now used to compare the differences between Althusser and Foucault. It's like... as my written work became more transparent and straight-forward, my art takes an abstract meaning.

Like i can't stand it if my fingers write something that have to be interpreted by a third party. I'm so used to clearing matters for my lecturers and stating my points so that they follow through, that in the end, i can't write my stories as i had written them once. They lack in the richness of meaning, because i insist on dictating how the matters are to be interpreted.

This isn't my way of writing.

I believe writing to be an act of democracy and it should be reflected in my work. But it isn't working. I'm tyrannical in my stories these days. And that's just plain wrong...

Identity Crisis

Okay, maybe for once i'll try writing a post that does not pilfer my words out for the sake of sounding intelligent.

Now, i use to be one heck of a kick-ass writer (heck, really? well, i think so) at least in comparison to now. I think words just come better to me when i'm at the bottom of the food chain. Come one, last time the parentals said i sucked at writing, and guess what, well, it wasn't that i proved them wrong, but i did get better. They also said i sucked at art and again, no picasso here, but at least i can err... colour. Yes. Colour. I think my heart isn't attached to my art.

I think i need to write without worrying about the perceptions that surrounds the writing. Like, i don't think i want to write with all the higher english and stuff. I want to just write a normal story that might, in a way, reflect me. Because i'm learning that myself as a writer... well, all i want is to leave a footprint in this world. I'm not even asking for the weirdo immortality stuff.

I just want to be here.

So i write in words that i gather to be more intelligent than my own. But guess what? It doesn't flow better! How am i suppose to say that i want to write street slang in my articles? How do you explain to people that your voice broke, that's why you can't sing better? (I know this is unrelated, but if you know that i'm a girl then maybe you get the point).

Why would i want to belittle what i had, the ability that i had and replace it with this other desire that is not worth the price? It's like my capabilities fell apart but my desire to write still haven't. So i insist on forcing myself to churn out stories that are semi-intelligent.

Why shouldn't go all the way on stupid right?

Because of pride.

I told chibi during the weekends i think that writing encompasses everything. It is such a clear reflection of who you are that once you write, there's just this comfort to know that it is you who hold the pen. You can write about anything and be accepted.

Then what about this difference in my ability? This sudden need to talk in street language and be regarded as someone of lower social stature than one who is capable of mingling with the upper folks?

I dunno...

Maybe i should write a story in street slang and try it out. Gauge the reaction. But the minute i want to write something funny, something else stops me. It's like i can't bring myself to regurgitate all the funny things that i've read (reference to intertextuality here).

I'm confused... And i guess this is where identity crisis comes in ^_^;;