Tag: writing

Liberation.

I like a song very much such that it’s been one of my ringtones since 6 years ago. It gave me a sense of an ideal evening. With the sun setting, pale blue skies. Orange light casting harshly on the white walls. It’s the most beautiful time of the day.

It meant reunion to me. Reunion to a loved one after work. Reunion to my passions and hobbies after classes. Reunion with my bed when I’m busy being with myself. It’s also the best time for hugs, cuddles and romantic afternoon teatime. My sense of romance, though, isn’t always gushy and showy. It’s an afternoon with cakes, tea or coffee. Holding hands across the table. Smiling and basking in the presence of one another, having conversations about our silly life problems. Romance to me seems to be a series of comfortable moments. Delivering over with packed lunch because food just suck at workplace canteens. Sending each other their favorite songs which are not played on mainstream radio. It’s kinda simple, yet specific.

This song is Santa Monica by Savage Garden. Mainstream but gold. It spoke to me in its tune and lyrics. And now I thought, it’s not only on the telephone line I can be whoever I wanna be. In writing too, I can be whoever I wanna be. I can write stories, I can write about love that didn’t happen. I can write an emotion, a thought, or describe the most perfect face I’ve ever encountered. I can be however I wanted to be. And with that I can now preach this quote,

“…everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”

– Sylvia Plath

It is now that I finally attain the outgoing guts to do so. I used to be so afraid, insecure and couldn’t put up with being misunderstood, as well as explaining to those who’ve misunderstood me (especially if they mattered to me.) I figured now, that I don’t really need everyone to understand, because those who truly matter, eventually will. I feel liberated, it’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.

Be weird, be strange. Embrace change.

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Disambiguation.

Writing,
Is raw and simplistic.

Experiences of my own or others’,
From which I draw feelings.

Situations or emotions that need not be personal,
States of mind that could be one of yesterday’s.

It might or might not be,
And it’s beauty is in ambiguity.

Read and deep beyond skin deep,
And love it like a great movie.

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Intended.

Any form of writing is an expression.

Just like how painting,

Singing,

Drawing,

Acting

Are also forms of expression.

Each form of expressions requires the performer to be put into the mind or emotion in order to ideally showcase it.

And that meant the performer itself will try their best to show an emotion as real as possible, as its intention is to be relatable. And in most times that doesn’t mean it’s actually true to what’s happening to their real life. Some of them spend time to ‘learn’ what it actually feels like. Honestly, even if someone do experience a degree of that thought or emotion, I don’t think it’s fair to take something out of intended context.

Would you go to Leonardo DiCaprio and ask how was his affair with Daisy? 

Can Oasis tell who Sally is and why she can wait? 

And some of these can be valuable memories or a hidden emotion of the composer. So even if there’s a Sally, I don’t think he wants to tell you. Maybe we should just appreciate that these artists/artistes are sharing a part of them or their minds with us. Not be making irrelevant personal assumptions to it, when you do not even know that person well. 

It’s ridiculous sometimes, the things art creators have to go through.

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