Words

All my life I have surrounded myself with words. Words I read in books, words I hear from films and shows. Words I write. I was always fascinated by the power of words. How a passage from a book, a few words from a writer, a couple of lines from a movie can make you feel so much when it isn't even directed to you. I know the power of words. I know what hateful words can do to a person and I know what a few nice words can do as well.

One of the reasons I love writing is that you can delete and rewrite whatever you want. You can think things through. You can place words in a way that they mean exactly what you want them to mean.

It’s quite different than speaking, especially for a professional blurter like me. I tend to say words that sound quite well in my head and sound horrible when spoken out loud. It could be a cowardly thing to do but I prefer writing. I don’t do well with phone calls or face to face talking especially with strangers.

I’m awkward. I have accepted that fact a long time ago and I've dealt with it. But that doesn't mean that when I blurt something out, that should have stayed hidden in the folds of my brain, I don’t cringe. Not only do I cringe but I keep thinking about those few stupidly spoken words. I wonder what effect they had on the person. I wonder what others think of me because of those words. And vice-versa when someone says something, I analyse it, I dissect it and investigate all the possibilities of its meaning

.

I realise that most people don’t mean half the things they say. Or they do and that’s just another lie society fed us. But true or not, I do ponder on words. I love words. I love how they sound. I love the fact that with a few well chosen words, you can make a sentence musical. I like the fact that you can express most things with words. I love learning new words, hearing new phrases, the many possibilities.

That is also why, when words fail, I pretty much retreat in my shell. Because there are moments where words are useless. What do you tell a person who has lost a loved one? What do you tell someone who just had their dreams crushed? What do you tell a couple who are going through a break up?

I feel useless and powerless and well no one likes to feel that way do they? When I’m at a loss for words, I feel like I've disappointed people, like I've disappointed myself. Because words mean so much to me and I expect to be able to say a few nice words. I expect it from myself even though maybe no one else does.

Because when I’m writing, I feel like my awkwardness disappears. It’s the only place I feel at ease. It’s my safe haven. And if I don’t have that, I have nothing.

Writer's Block!

Writing sucks! It fucks you up horribly yet you need it like a junkie needs his cocaine. How can something so beautiful make you feel so bad? How can it create such sadness when it can give such joy?

Sometimes it feels like I'm stuck in a glass cage. People se me yet they cannot hear me cry for help. The only way to communicate is through writing, but how can you when your mind blacks out at the idea of letting a pen run on a paper?

Then water enters the box. Ice cold water that rises fast around you. Up to your neck and around your throat it settles like a noose and then higher into your mouth, over your head. And all you can do is hope for a miracle you know can't happen and pray to a god who's existence you don't believe in.

And as your lungs start crying for oxygen and your throat starts getting used to the feeling of suffocation, your brain starts shutting down. And for one blissful moment you've found paradise. A place where no thoughts are present, it's just you and the peaceful silence.

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.

First Impressions

What should one say on their first post of their new blog? Should there be a long analysed description of the person's self and their activities? Should one start with a joke to break the ice? Or just get down to business and start with the deep stuff?

A million and one questions run through my overcooked brain. What if no one likes it? What if its not what they expect? As a person who spent most of her life trying to please others, self-doubt is a big part of my life. Should I say this or that? Will I sound to foolish, too stupid, too conceited? Am I so full of myself that I think that someone would want to read what I write? All these thoughts have made me postpone this blog again and again.

Because first impressions are important. To say anything else would be fooling oneself. You could retort by saying don't judge a book by its cover but how can I put my hopes on that when I, an avid book lover, pick up books because their cover tickles my interest. Are first impressions always right? No. Does a first encounter weigh heavily on a future relationship? Pretty much. And this does not just apply to human relationships but to any relationship we may have with objects. Yes I did just say that we have relationships with objects. Well at least I do. I have a love/hate relationship with all my things. I cajole them into working, and shout at them when they don't. Sounds crazy? Probably but I always thought things worked better when you showed them you love them.

Coming back to the whole point of this rant. First impressions do matter. And as a person who is a confessed people pleaser  this can be nerve wrecking. I have learnt during the years that trying to make everyone happy can never work. Mainly because we humans are never satisfied, we always want more and more. Stretching myself thin between all those people was not really working out. I have the scars were I was starting to tear as a proof. Does this mean that I have stopped trying to please others? Well I wish. The fact is that such in-depth vices are hard to crack. What I have painstakingly learned though is that the guilt of disappointing others hurts less when I actually believed in the decision I took, in the words I spoke and in the way I acted.

So I am here writing this blog not because I think that I'm an amazing writer, but because writing makes me happy. My writing may not be up to standard for certain people, and it may not be of liking for others but it is for my liking. So this is my introduction. I am Shyan, I am recovering from people-pleaser addiction. I judge books by their cover, songs by their title and bands by their name. I am a certified homo sapiens and this is my first post.