Mostly Blather
Hey Kids,
So I should be at a cafe, or in the park, or even sitting here writing on my laptop right now, but, as I have been all day, I am putting it off in as many ways as I can find. I'm so close to being at the end of the novel, and I don't want to be done because I love writing it. I know of course that there will be mountains of editing to do, and plot holes to flesh out, so it's not really ending, but it still feels strange to have written so much. I think in truth however, it's simply that I am desperate for control over my time. It's weird for me to feel like that 'cause most of the time I'm very laid back about how things go, and what I do each day... But I feel like when I have this much time I should just do whatever I want at every minute. Ironically, it often stops me from doing things that I want to do, or things that are important to me, everything from socialising to writing the novel, because I think to myself "if you go out there and do that, you'll have less choices. The ironic part is, I end of staying in and doing things that aren't that important, or that I didn't even care if I did or not, because I don't want to lock myself into a decided activity. How pathetic. Tonight I WILL write. I will not sit here babbling on about how I miss Winnipeg, how it seems like even when I make new friends now they all live there, so I don't get the opportunity to hang out with them on a regular basis.
Well goodness my posts are usually so much more entertaining and informative than this whining.
The fog has lifted, and this saddens me. I was hoping it would stay super foggy in Vancouver for all of February, as it did for most of January, because it was so romantic and misty and I felt I could just slip into it and disappear. It makes everything seem filled with intrigue and mystery. I love the energy of a fog covered city at night, the lights from all those windows twinkling distantly, skyscrapers looming suddenly out of the mist. It leaves me feeling dreamlike, and I wonder if this whole world could really exist it seems so overwhelming.
I had a dream last night that I lived in a building across from several girls I went to high school with. I dreamt that I got to know them again as if they were old friends, despite that I only vaguely knew them. They were some of those sort of nice people that you know, and who treat you well, and you get along, but it never really develops into a friendship or anything more than a passing kinship of sorts. It makes me feel far away from people. Like I live off on an island somewhere like an Alistair McLeod story. Like I sort of pass people the way you pass cars on the street, or ships at sea, and yet never really connect with them. I don't know why I'm always so desperate to connect with everyone so deeply. I'm always looking to get deeper and closer. Is it just me? I don't know if I feel this way more lately because I have moved so far from everything I knew, or if I would feel this way regardless.
Sarah and I have found out that we get to live in London for the month of May. I can't really afford it, but in that strange way, I can't afford to miss it either. England tugs at my heart like a first love or a childhood best friend. I feel about it the way you feel when you visit a house you used to live in, sort of warm and cold at the same time, a bittersweet nostalgia. Perhaps that's redundant.
God. I need to write more often. When I sit down to do this, it's as if everything I've been thinking and feeling, holding in to write when I had time just sort of pours out of me. It reminds me everytime how certain I am that writing is what I want to do with my life. And brings me back to the beginning of this post I suppose, reiterating how much I need to go out and work. Maybe I'll go have supper at the fish and chip place around the corner and then go to the cafe to write.
To anyone who actually read this:
If you miss me, I guarantee that I miss you too. If reading this is your main connection to me, I completely understand that feeling, as it seems that more and more, I feel like my major connections with people have devolved into my ocasional perusal of their online journals and facebook pages in a desperate attempt to get back some element of that connection we used to have. I wonder if you can ever actually go back, or if these things just get lost, like those skyscrapers in the fog, just waiting for you to stumble upon them again as you rush blindly through the haunting streets...
The reason I wanted to write this part was to thank you for reading, for having an interest in what I wrote and for, in your own way, maintaining a connection to me in this world of broken ties. I miss you too.
Until Next Time,
I'm Ktwilight
So I should be at a cafe, or in the park, or even sitting here writing on my laptop right now, but, as I have been all day, I am putting it off in as many ways as I can find. I'm so close to being at the end of the novel, and I don't want to be done because I love writing it. I know of course that there will be mountains of editing to do, and plot holes to flesh out, so it's not really ending, but it still feels strange to have written so much. I think in truth however, it's simply that I am desperate for control over my time. It's weird for me to feel like that 'cause most of the time I'm very laid back about how things go, and what I do each day... But I feel like when I have this much time I should just do whatever I want at every minute. Ironically, it often stops me from doing things that I want to do, or things that are important to me, everything from socialising to writing the novel, because I think to myself "if you go out there and do that, you'll have less choices. The ironic part is, I end of staying in and doing things that aren't that important, or that I didn't even care if I did or not, because I don't want to lock myself into a decided activity. How pathetic. Tonight I WILL write. I will not sit here babbling on about how I miss Winnipeg, how it seems like even when I make new friends now they all live there, so I don't get the opportunity to hang out with them on a regular basis.
Well goodness my posts are usually so much more entertaining and informative than this whining.
The fog has lifted, and this saddens me. I was hoping it would stay super foggy in Vancouver for all of February, as it did for most of January, because it was so romantic and misty and I felt I could just slip into it and disappear. It makes everything seem filled with intrigue and mystery. I love the energy of a fog covered city at night, the lights from all those windows twinkling distantly, skyscrapers looming suddenly out of the mist. It leaves me feeling dreamlike, and I wonder if this whole world could really exist it seems so overwhelming.
I had a dream last night that I lived in a building across from several girls I went to high school with. I dreamt that I got to know them again as if they were old friends, despite that I only vaguely knew them. They were some of those sort of nice people that you know, and who treat you well, and you get along, but it never really develops into a friendship or anything more than a passing kinship of sorts. It makes me feel far away from people. Like I live off on an island somewhere like an Alistair McLeod story. Like I sort of pass people the way you pass cars on the street, or ships at sea, and yet never really connect with them. I don't know why I'm always so desperate to connect with everyone so deeply. I'm always looking to get deeper and closer. Is it just me? I don't know if I feel this way more lately because I have moved so far from everything I knew, or if I would feel this way regardless.
Sarah and I have found out that we get to live in London for the month of May. I can't really afford it, but in that strange way, I can't afford to miss it either. England tugs at my heart like a first love or a childhood best friend. I feel about it the way you feel when you visit a house you used to live in, sort of warm and cold at the same time, a bittersweet nostalgia. Perhaps that's redundant.
God. I need to write more often. When I sit down to do this, it's as if everything I've been thinking and feeling, holding in to write when I had time just sort of pours out of me. It reminds me everytime how certain I am that writing is what I want to do with my life. And brings me back to the beginning of this post I suppose, reiterating how much I need to go out and work. Maybe I'll go have supper at the fish and chip place around the corner and then go to the cafe to write.
To anyone who actually read this:
If you miss me, I guarantee that I miss you too. If reading this is your main connection to me, I completely understand that feeling, as it seems that more and more, I feel like my major connections with people have devolved into my ocasional perusal of their online journals and facebook pages in a desperate attempt to get back some element of that connection we used to have. I wonder if you can ever actually go back, or if these things just get lost, like those skyscrapers in the fog, just waiting for you to stumble upon them again as you rush blindly through the haunting streets...
The reason I wanted to write this part was to thank you for reading, for having an interest in what I wrote and for, in your own way, maintaining a connection to me in this world of broken ties. I miss you too.
Until Next Time,
I'm Ktwilight