Rant: The words that save

Oh the words that saved me from insanity and from my own sanity. Oh words that can no longer stay hidden in the crevices of my heart but pulsate giving me life again. I run along life hoping to get some kind of warmth and hugs and laughter and the laughter grows louder not because I am guffawing but because I myself am laughing at my own inadequacy to grasp the simplicity of life and how it should be.

We release thoughts of poison that slowly consume our identity until we can no longer control the act of negative thinking fuelled by comparison to those we cannot even touch because our brows now touch therefore we are no longer beautiful because we not prim, proper and straight.

Oh but the written word draws us back to that place where we can be us again. It brings us back to the words that God himself spoke to us when he exhaled his breath onto us at Creation. Oh dear God let your word be true, let it trample the whorish thoughts that so easily spill out of our minds, they themselves full of pesticide that seeps through unconscious mind leading us to believe in the sadness of our minds though our hearts speak only joy and vibrate from a frequency basing all we touch from our hearts with love which is a strong foundation that you so aptly described in your good word as a solid rock we can trust each time each the storm threatens our very existence that we may find light in that fortress, that our very minds would remain in that fortress and betray the seductive wildness that leads us to doom.

Sigh.

 

All filled up with no where to spill

How much of us still remains when we have read and read and read all these books. It is great to learn and adopt but it scares me when I adopt a voice, an author's voice in my thinking and in my writing. They inhabit your mind even if it is for that week, but where does the rest of the voice go?

And then you start writing hoping that you can at the least describe your experience with people and the world. You attach words to it, as far as your vocab can take you. You hope your words are important enough to be desirable or entertaining at the least (not ideal). Well it is hard to compete with entertainment, we live in a world of images. Imagination appears to be losing its charms.

I pray words stay alive and the millions of authors and budding authors who also experienced the wrecking power of a good book. Those who opened up their very selves and filled them up with someone else's thoughts and desires. Words are demanding, they desire your mind and your time. You travel to another world filled with these characters and places. You meet yourself along the way, in the paragraphs and chapters. You cry sometimes and laugh too. You laugh along with fellow word lovers.

What my feelings sound like

Corrine Bailey Rae

This is maybe my favourite "Slow Jam" Artist of all times! Her music captures my emotions when I cannot find words to describe them

                                          https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ARFnffnuDQU

Parts

“A muse? What?” he exclaimed with a confused expression in his face. 

“I saw it yesterday, in her journal, there are pages and pages written about you” she replied excitedly.  Her hands were moving erratically as she explained what she had seen.  He looked at her nervously wondering exactly how much this girl had written about him

He bit his lip, deciding between freaking out and feeling smug. “She doesn’t even know me though, how could she draw so much to fill up a journal, a page is even too long, I don’t even know her name!” he laughed. He finally found the humour in the situation.

She stared at him laughing away and after a long pause, she started laughing too.

“It is not you that she writes about, it's the parts of you that are part of her, and the things you do, the parts of her that she will soon find in her whole”, she replied with a sudden straight face.

He looked terribly disappointed.

Why RomComs still matter

We watch these movies, each time a new one is released we drag our male companion to the first cinema we can find. We know what will happen, boy meets girl and then they fight and break-up but by some force of nature get back together. There is usually a scene where someone is running at the airport. We know this. I know this. That fact still does not deter me from watching another and another and each time feeling a glimmer of hope, that someday, maybe today I will meet the perfect stranger.

I did meet the perfect stranger who became very real in my life. There were scenes of our meeting that were so surreal and movie-like. I spent hours and hours replaying and telling these unbelievable stories to all my friends who listened in awe. The truth is, I had spent most of my teenage years watching everything from Titanic to Save the Last Dance and wondered if a Quirky Cathy like me would ever experience that. I experienced more than the light stuff, I experienced some darkness too. While I understand that a bond is far more important than the flashing scenes of “it was fate friend!” , those moments still make me smile. Honestly those are the things that remain as treasures that we can open and reopen again and again. The first time someone surprised you with a gift, picked you up or kissed you while the sun set remains engraved in the warmth of the heart. After the wounds have healed and the anger subsides, we are left with those irreplaceable memories.

Be it cheesy or not, we all have some kind of reel of our favourite moments. This is why I watch and am moved each time. It is not because I am obsessed with the idea of love, but more the possibilities that love can bring. Science fiction or action even romance can show highly unlikely scenarios but only love can make us crazy enough to make them a reality. Or at the least desire to make it our reality.

OMG stop fluttering

"You silly, silly pretty bugs !
those lilies are not for us"

Instant fluttering in my tummy
his presence is adorned with lilies
white lilies
 roses
 sunflowers
he is a good bunch

Shhhhhh!

"We cannot let him know"

I smile quietly
and wonder
if I even warrant that bunch
if I could ever be handed that bunch

I want it so dearly
mostly for myself
partly because their wings fluttered
 while I stuttered
in my greeting
that was only a whisper

I wonder if my whisper will linger
or will I go on longer
in deep hope
that that good bunch will someday be mine!!!

(PS lets not get too carried away)

My butterflies won't come out

My butterflies won’t come out

For anything less than lilies

Or sunflowers

Maybe white roses.

They refuse to be lured by laughter

Interest

Even peculiar strangers.

They sit patiently on green stalks

Laughing loudly

Throwing they beautiful heads back

The kind of laughter that makes you nervous

But its totally powerful and intimidating.

There is no humour about it.

I present them with yellow carnations

And the pretty little bugs wont budge.

“Really ”, they snap.

My mind turns around slowly

Embarrassed looking at the yellow common flower in its hands

It’s sad. It’s heart-wrenching.

The mind thinks it’s time

The heart is almost ready

But my butterflies will not budge.

They were so quiet for so long

I was convinced of their death.

They want beauty.

“We could do fine with these tulips,

Petunias but soon we will need more”

I look to the heavens and ask for a white lily.

God smiles and whispers “Not yet”

“I have been weeding Dad”

“I know but not yet”

I turn around half glad

Half disappointed. 

I blow another petunia away.