2.26.2012

The essence of writing


People ask me what is it that I write about? Why do I write? Why do I like it so much? And for people who don't write, the real answers to those questions will leave them with a blank face. Then they'll laugh awkwardly and back away slowly. Other writers don't ask these questions. They might ask you if you're working on something right now, but that's as much as it gets.

How do you explain that you start writing without knowing what you're going to write. That you plan one story and end up with a totally different one. How can you explain that the characters in your story are sometimes more real than the people walking around you? That they seem to have a life of their own and make decisions regardless what your plan was, just like teenagers.

Why do I write? Writing is not a decision. It's a need, a deep internal urge to satisfy my mind and give it some peace. No one asks why do we breathe, it should be the same with writing. I don't write to be liked, I don't write to be famous, I write because if I don't I would go mad. I won't come up to you and tell you my problems because I feel like that is unnatural, but I will put my anger, disappointment, happiness in words on a paper or a computer. I may not show them to anyone, but I feel better, because they're not bottled up anymore.

Why do I like writing? I don't always do. Sometimes I'm frustrated and angry because I can't write. Sometimes I curse the moment I "decided" I wanted to write. But writing most of the time seems to be the best thing I'm good at, the only thing I'm good at. I'm not good with feelings. I'm shy and akward. I steer away from fights because I claim I am a peaceful person. I'm not extraordinarily funny, just a bit sarcastic and not a people person. So writing is my only option. It's the only thing I feel "cool" at, if I do.

And a side note, when you find me staring at something or some place it's not because I'm sad or I'm a weirdo usually it's just my mind trying to solve some problem I came up with in my writings. Maybe I got stuck in one of my stories or I'm planning the next blog. So yes sometimes you'll see me look like a loved one has died, or smile for no reason, and that's not because I'm a nutter, it's because at that moment I'm no longer Shyan but I'm another person totally, a character, a fiction, a reality in another dimension.

But how do I tell the muggles such things? Instead I give a vague answer about what I write about, I say I write because I love reading and I'm pretty good at English and I like it because, well just because. When they ask me what I'm thinking of I tell them nothing just staring into space. And they smile and think they understand, and I smile back knowing they haven't. But that's ok, I don't need others to understand me, I just need to write.

2.07.2012

Little Girl, Big Dreams



It's funny how the expectations we had when we were as children are so unrealistic. And I'm not talking about wanting to become superman, robin hood, a mermaid. Neither am I talking of my childhood dream of growing up and finding out I'm a magical creature capable of doing all types of magic and I basically would have the wings of fairies along with fairy dust, the magical powers and the flying broom of Harry Potter (fine I wasn't that young, sue me!) and the capability of turning into a mermaid. And the icing on top of the cake, I'd get to fly to the second star to the right and straight on into the land of Peter Pan. I mean I know that that is definitely not a realistic dream.

But I did expect to suddenly turn into this 6 foot gorgeous gal that attracted attention everywhere she went and everyone would want to be my friend. Now I'm turning 20 in May, I'm 5"2 and still that awkward kid I was in my childhood. True I am more capable of interacting with strangers and I don't go through my life being unnoticed by everyone but in reality I'm not that much different than I was before. I would still rather stay at home reading a book than dressing up and wearing feet-killing heels and go out to "party".

I do enjoy meeting my friends, and I love a good chat but that little chit chat you have to do with people, you know the one about the weather and stuff when you get to know someone, well I hate those. I also hate having to fake a smile and pretend I'm interested in what they say and pretend that their actual lame talk is so fucking hilarious. There's this protocol book I was brought up with that the little goody two shoes in me wants to follow. But apparently the rest of the world got a different book. Now I'm not saying that I'm perfect and the rest of the world is flawed of course, but really does society have to be such a rude, egoistic, horrible and mean mother fucker of a breed? I used to think that the grown up world was filled with polite people who went around helping others and taking the blame where they should and be nice and all that. I don't know where the criminals fit in my little world, but probably they were the bad guys who always lost. This thinking probably had to do with my 11 years spent in a nun's school. Although I have deviated from religion it is quite impossible not to have taken with me a couple of values along the way.

 So you may all imagine my shock when I realised that your closest friend can turn into your worst nightmare, that a parent might not always be loving and that a couple can be anything but everlasting. The biggest surprise was probably that nothing is just black and white, that you cannot make a line on the floor and put evil on one side and good on the other. Mainly because in this world evil doesn't mean looking ugly and having moles on your face. Neither does it mean having an evil MUHAHA laugh and long claw-like nails (although they still creep me out). I realised that sometimes the nicest person can be the scariest psycho. But I think the scariest bit is that we all have evil in us. We're all capable of doing great damage, to others and even to ourselves. And none of us know to what extend does evil reign in us until we are cornered into a situation which puts us way outside our comfort zone. So who's to say that one day I won't go all gozilla-style around this little island and have to be shot down?

Yet sometimes the worst harm is not done by physical violence, its done by our tongue. People, and by people I include myself of course, can be so mean, no actually downright evil. Have you ever heard the quote "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?" Well I think whoever said that is very mistaken. Because you can heal from physical pain, although you may be a little harder for wear, but words, well you never heal from them. You may pretend, that they didn't hurt you and that you are fine. And yes you may even think you've forgotten them and maybe after a supple amount of time you forget who told you what, but the scars of the words are still there etched on your heart. And every time you fail at something you'll remember the discouraging words you got told during your life. Every time you need to do a big decision those words keep you from doing what you actually want and go with what the others expect you to do. Occasionally you'll get flashbacks that will make you feel like a little child again. They'll make you want to crawl into bed, in a foetus position and rock yourself until you cry yourself to sleep. So yeah, I think it is more like "stick and stones might break your bones but words might make you dead inside."

This is why I tend to be very cautious with what I say. Maybe too cautious. Because that little weird girl in me keeps telling me to be nice and love the others. That little girl who felt so weird grew up into a woman (I'm not going to say little because I'm still waiting to sprint in the rest of the 8 inches) still weird, still that nerdy kid who  occasionally leaves the real world to join her world of make believe. This woman is a bunch of contradictions, she doesn't believe in marriage or everlasting love yet is a hopeless romantic, she thinks Disney ruined her chance of ever being happy yet always sits down to watch a rerun with her sister. She knows that the world is evil yet decides to give it another chance and lastly she doesn't think she's anything near as good as the writers she admires yet she gives you this blog.


But with all these "unrealised" dreams she is still quite satisfied with the way that little girl turned out!