so it turns out i’m not going to write a uni post today… not tonight. maybe not tomorrow as well… maybe that has just got to wait.
i was skimming back at my blog, answering a few comments, looking at my previous posts and somehow realize that i suck big time. that makes me pissy.
do you know Sylvia Plath? i’m sure you do… even if you don’t, she was an American poet, novelist and short story writer. she was brilliant. if you’ve heard ofArielorThe Collected Poem,then you’ve heard a part of her. those are some of her famous poems.
i’m not going to talk about her whole life story in this post for obvious reasons, but she died at the age of 30. she committed suicide, but that is not what i want to stress. in the years that have expired between her birth and her death, she has created. that is what i want to emphasize. she was the first poet to win the Pulitzer prize, but again, that is not the center point of this whole ramble. the prize is a bonus because she’s just so brilliant. the fact that she wrote, and never stopped writing until the day she died was what inspired me to write this post. some sources in the internet told me that she killed herself because of a long struggle of depression and a marital separation , but she had lived her life doing exactly what she wanted to do. it doesn’t matter that her life is short, the fact that she was able to touch millions of souls, and also that she did inspire a lot of people, was already fulfilling her purpose to write.
back to the problem. i have been so unproductive, writing wise, these past couple of weeks. i love writing, i know i do. but with writing, it has always been a love-hate relationship. unfortunately, my relationship has ventured more to the hate side because i have been so frustratingly and disgustingly ‘writer-blocked’. from the period that my laptop was stolen (and with it, all my stories, and poems, and little tidbits) i have not been productive. i have always pushed myself to write but nothing came up. it feels like ideas only come to my head when i’m in the middle of examination week. now that i have a three month long holiday, ideas are like: “okay, see you in 4 months!” it may not sound like it’s a big deal, but here i am, still a bit sick, my eyes groggy and my head hurting from lack of sleep, thinking that this will not do. a lot of people have failed, and didn’t give up. now just because i have failed to conjure up an idea that is worth writing, i almost gave up on it. this is an honest confession: the reason why i wasn’t really productive was because i wasn’t encouraging myself to write. because i knew i wouldn’t be able to come up with something good anyways. because i was too arrogant, and didn’t want to write crap, even though i knew that sometimes my best writings came from the crap i thought i’d written.
i don’t possess the humility to accept that life is ever changing, and that i will not always have an idea. that i will not always write good pieces of story, or rhyming poems, or funny blog posts. and i envy those who are naturally born to understand this complexity in life.