A Writer's Block

I've been working on one thing for over a year now. It's a silly little thing, and it sucks, but still I keep writing it. The people have grown to be like friends, and it's weird to stop writing it every day when J returns home. It's funny that writing it, I'm somewhere else, among different people, and I'm different, and when I return back to my own life, I'm frustrated. It's a stupid love story, a triangle, trashy, like the ones you buy for a flight and then throw away.

I write it in English, and I know I shouldn't, because I write better in my own language. But some things are better said in English.

So, about the block. It's not that I cannot write anything, it's that I have too much. I write different scenes, I call them scenes. Then I decide they're too much, or too stupid, and destroy them. I've written 200 pages and destroyed 120.

And I can't read books anymore. I see a beautiful description, and I want to copy it. Plagiate, if you will.

Past Life Experiences..

So, about me getting physically ill after seeing Alex O'Loughlin for the first time...

A friend, who is basically a yahoo over anything new agy, weird, paranormal etc, just explained that reaction. According to him, we have met in a past life - and in that life I've done something bad to him, so I had a violent reaction... so I asked around and had a recommendation of regression therapy. I would like to tell that I did go and have therapy to remember my previous lives, but since I don't believe in anything like that, I didn't.

Once, years ago, I did a humourous test about past lives - and according to it, in my previous life I was a chicken. Apparently he choke on a chicken bone in his previous life. Or that I was a poisoner (witch) in my life before my short life as a chicken, and he happened to be the victim. The reason I would think a witch would have poisoned anyone was because of one of these things: Either he was a crappy husband and I poisoned him, probably using a little belladonna cooked in his food.. maybe I burned the dinner that night... or I was in love with the town hottie - him - and fed him poison instead of the love potion. Or it might be that he was en evil lord and he just got what he deserved.

Now, when it comes to Karma.. my life has been pretty crappy this time, so probably I've now paid my dues. His life seems nice now, so apparently he got a reward for the sudden ending of his past life. Now, if he was bad and still he's rewarded in this life, my karma is just biting me in the ass, because I apparently killed an innocent person? Oopsy. I'm starting to think my theory no 2. with the love poison did me.

No Disappointments Until You Wake Up

For a moment your stupid, unworthy life is perfect. You are happy, you know yourself and you are perfect - as much as you can. No disappointments until you wake up.

There are mornings that I wish I never wake up. Then, after a nightmare-ridden night I'm glad to wake. Now is that a dilemma or what? Other people worry about getting water to drink or someone bombing them on their way home..

Is it happiness that you actually sleep about 25 years of your life - or does it take something away? Is it a waste of a precious life or just waste of time? I read that you only learn in dreams, your brain works out the daily things and refine it to learning.. but what can you learn of a perfect life that disappears every morning you happen to wake up to your shit of a life?

Why are we cursed with the ability to have dreams? It's like the evolution's last 'fuck you' to mock us or something. Why give someone the best days of their lives, then wake them up to the reality that they are on a refugee camp with nothing but the clothes they stand up in? Isn't it cruelty? What about some poor fucker, who can barely write - can only put their words right out when they are deep in sleep?

Now, why this ramble? I was thinking about myself, my dreams. I do have a good life when compared to millions of others. I'm educated, well-enough behaving, I have a nice guy, a few good friends, apartment with a  nice view, something to do every day and really no worries. Then why do my dreams affect me so much? Why a life I never had returns to my dreams night after night so that I can't be grateful of what I actually have? I'm constantly trying to tell myself to return to real life after a night... but yesterday I found myself smiling like an idiot for the whole day.


Now, let's put that half aside and talk about something else. I'm that kind of a person that I get deeply affected by something, mostly it's a tune in a song, a picture, a sound I hear. Like on a very windy day I stopped to hear the wind blowing in a grove of pines. Have you ever stopped to listen how much different it is from when it's deciduous trees?


Tune of today:

He Makes Me Cry

I had this dream
you knew who I am
and loved what you saw
you loved me
as I am

waking up like this
after a life like that
I want to sleep

I am an old soul
and somehow I know
we were one in another time
it was another life
in it I did wrong

if this is what I deserve
I hope I get to rest
I cannot come back

a life is worth living
but if it's going to be
another life like this,
I don't want it
just take it away