110312 -- Destroy the Distorted Princess
Nov. 3rd, 2012 12:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
memorialrainbowWho are we behind closed doors, and what face do we show the world?
I've been struggling with this question for some time now. I've always been a very behind closed doors person, which comes from my childhood. Being the odd ball out, I was the only person who understood me, and so, I would close the doors to my playroom, creating stories and being inspired and not telling a soul about any of it. And I enjoyed it, but I knew that at some point, the creativity would have to be unmasked.
When the LRPLI was in its heyday, I was able to create stories and distribute them to the other members. Even if nobody else understood, I had an audience. I remember watching an episode of Sailor Moon, my personal favorite, where a friend of Makoto's (Lita) was a writer who had a severe case of writer's block. Makoto reminded her of her dream. "As long as one person read your work, you would keep writing for the sake of that one person! That was your dream, wasn't it?"
I first did NaNoWriMo in 2005, alone in my basement. When I moved to Miami, I took NaNoWriMo on the road. I kept writing, even though my focus was on music. But I was still used to having my genius hidden, although it felt like a crime to do so. This January, I figured out why: because music is where I hide, but writing is what I want to share with the world.
I tend to forget that. I tend to also forget that it's okay if I don't make a living off of it. I give myself a lot of flak for 'not doing more to further my writing career.' A friend called me a hipster the other day. While I suppose I don't represent the culture in its entirety, I guess that's not too far off the mark. I've spoken before of being inspired by Jonathan Larson's work, the lifestyle he lived, wanting to do that as well. Now that I am, I couldn't be happier...except when your family ain't happy, sometimes you ain't happy as well.
Where does your confidence come from? Your parents? Your readers? For me, I've figured out where my confidence comes from. It's a secret, extremely painful at times, but it keeps me going unlike anything else. If I could only write for one person, I know who that person is. And I think it'll bring a flurry of new activity, as it always does.
NaNoWriMo is going quite well. I'll have updates on the main site as it happens. I'll have to be a bit quiet about the plot, of course, but that's understood. I'll start writing music once I drag out my keyboard. I'll send the recordings over the Metro-North line, perhaps not only to the south, but to the north as well.
And still my heart is saying...
If my feelings can't scare you away, then what will? If one day, if one meeting can change the course of history, will it? Will this actually mean something? Could this be what I've been waiting for, finally, after all this time?
Why does the sky seem so wide again? Why is the Lexington line super-express? The key to your heart; flying high on ancient wings; the odds and ends fall from the sky; one thousand paper cranes make a wish come true. Questions I may never have the answers to, but I'm okay with asking.
I won't ask questions.
I won't tell myself it'll all come to an end, that I make these mistakes all the time, that I don't deserve love -- or worse, life.
I'll just live.
I've been struggling with this question for some time now. I've always been a very behind closed doors person, which comes from my childhood. Being the odd ball out, I was the only person who understood me, and so, I would close the doors to my playroom, creating stories and being inspired and not telling a soul about any of it. And I enjoyed it, but I knew that at some point, the creativity would have to be unmasked.
When the LRPLI was in its heyday, I was able to create stories and distribute them to the other members. Even if nobody else understood, I had an audience. I remember watching an episode of Sailor Moon, my personal favorite, where a friend of Makoto's (Lita) was a writer who had a severe case of writer's block. Makoto reminded her of her dream. "As long as one person read your work, you would keep writing for the sake of that one person! That was your dream, wasn't it?"
I first did NaNoWriMo in 2005, alone in my basement. When I moved to Miami, I took NaNoWriMo on the road. I kept writing, even though my focus was on music. But I was still used to having my genius hidden, although it felt like a crime to do so. This January, I figured out why: because music is where I hide, but writing is what I want to share with the world.
I tend to forget that. I tend to also forget that it's okay if I don't make a living off of it. I give myself a lot of flak for 'not doing more to further my writing career.' A friend called me a hipster the other day. While I suppose I don't represent the culture in its entirety, I guess that's not too far off the mark. I've spoken before of being inspired by Jonathan Larson's work, the lifestyle he lived, wanting to do that as well. Now that I am, I couldn't be happier...except when your family ain't happy, sometimes you ain't happy as well.
Where does your confidence come from? Your parents? Your readers? For me, I've figured out where my confidence comes from. It's a secret, extremely painful at times, but it keeps me going unlike anything else. If I could only write for one person, I know who that person is. And I think it'll bring a flurry of new activity, as it always does.
NaNoWriMo is going quite well. I'll have updates on the main site as it happens. I'll have to be a bit quiet about the plot, of course, but that's understood. I'll start writing music once I drag out my keyboard. I'll send the recordings over the Metro-North line, perhaps not only to the south, but to the north as well.
And still my heart is saying...
If my feelings can't scare you away, then what will? If one day, if one meeting can change the course of history, will it? Will this actually mean something? Could this be what I've been waiting for, finally, after all this time?
Why does the sky seem so wide again? Why is the Lexington line super-express? The key to your heart; flying high on ancient wings; the odds and ends fall from the sky; one thousand paper cranes make a wish come true. Questions I may never have the answers to, but I'm okay with asking.
I won't ask questions.
I won't tell myself it'll all come to an end, that I make these mistakes all the time, that I don't deserve love -- or worse, life.
I'll just live.
