Inspiration

Sometimes I get too entrenched in daily routines and preoccupations that my creativity has been more and more stifled as of late. Although I have been embracing the slow movement and its delightful derivatives in one way or another all my life, it does not feel enough to nurture all that I want to experience, share, and create. Lately, I have been feeling uninspired and stuck in a rut, feeling reminiscent of the bustling moments of the yesteryear and craving more variety, more spice, and a constant need to be more than the sum of all parts that constitutes my life lately.

On the one hand, I have reverted to the loving role of the voracious bookworm yet my writing has suffered considerably. During last month’s move, I discovered troves of writing material which included short stories, essays, and umpteenth drafts of my old screenplays. I need to write again. My soul depends upon it.

I know

it’s hard to be reconciled

not everything is exactly

the way it ought to be

but please turn around

and step into the future

leave memories behind

enter the land of hope

-Zbigniew Herbert, from A Life

Despite my best intentions, the days roll into weeks which turn into months. Therefore, writing is on my wish list. In fact, I may finally participate in the annual NaNoWrimo. How about that for a challenge? In fact, I do not lack inspiration nor the willingness to write, but the time and daily motivation. As my 20s draw to a close, I realize that I did some of my best writing in the earlier years when I was not so encumbered with commitments and cumbersome obligations, yet I feel inspired particularly after reading the insightful Herbert excerpt.

It feels like an ode to the upcoming days.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

I have finally understood the old adage “once bitten, twice shy”.

Recently, my inherent belief in the goodness of people was shaken to its core which led to a feeling of betrayal and foolishness for having allowed deceptive connections that hinder a true communion of souls. Over the course of the last few months we have discussed the basis of friendship and love, in these parts, with mixed impressions and perspectives and it finally dawns on me to be true to myself and sift out the undesirables.

Time and time again I try to comprehend the complexity of the human spirit in order to explain how we measure our sense of self and share our vulnerability with idle strangers who were, in the end, not worth the care we lavished on them, yet we are not willing to be equally generous with those who truly give another meaning to sweet surrender. Is it a case of emotional detachment with those who would, given the chance, make our souls blossom and a misplaced case of being a commitment phobe?

Indeed, it feels quite appropriate to take stock of the hurtful and needless agony that have constituted some relationships in the past decade and embrace new adventures with a light heart instead of wallowing in a vicious circle that stunts personal development and joy.

Home, Sweet Home

After talking about it for so long, I finally moved out and it has come together so nicely. It feels strange to have my own space (discounting house sitting last summer for my brother) where I am not dependent on other people’s routine, just the cumbersome jumping up and down of neighbour kids.

While everyone tells me I am crazy, I have decided to forgo owning a television altogether. It feels wonderful to return in time and cook meals the old-fashioned way without unduly distractions, to read books instead of being glued to the television set. Moreover as an obsessed tea lover, it is lovely to wait for my kettle to boil as I listen to the birds chirping outside my kitchen window.

Now I just need to bring my library of books home and I am set.

As for buying property, R., it is a worldwide phenomenon, but I think it is time we scaled conspicuous consumption back particularly in view of the wobbly housing market and America’s housing crisis. In my case, I have never followed the Jones’ and I shall buy a house (a condo or a townhouse) whenever I find myself ready in all sense of the word. In the meantime, I am living in a beautiful neighbourhood and in an apartment (in a quadruplex, really) that feels like home and responds to my criteria of what that means at this point in my life.

25 Live

The wait is finally over.

Tonight, I will see George Michael in concert.

Most of my life has been punctuated with liner notes from his intricate storytelling and beautiful music. This soulful artist has been a constant source of soothing influence in my life. In particular, I grew up on his music on the cusp of the post-Wham years and his beautiful soul and artistic vision have allowed me to mature unlike any other singer. He is an incredible artist who humbles me time and time again.

Through tumultuous times and joyful moments, George Michael and his interweaving wisdom and seductive mots justes have kept me company, allowing me to wallow in my pain during the grieving process and draw strength from within. Through the years, his melodic poetry introduced my precocious young mind to a world of bittersweet, emotional drama in succinct and yearning tones as well as garnering sensitivity towards the waning social capital in veiled socio-political songs that burst our weary hearts into action.

After the concert:

He rocked my freakin’ world.