Where’s your head at?

The din of sweet silence, how does it clear the air, make it crisp and serene? It’s not all quiet here, while the room is filled with nothing but breath, I have a million sounds screaming from all sides. In here, in my mind, there’s nothing but chaos and distraction. Where’s this peace of mind that I’ve heard so much about? Where does this sense of ease come in when all I feel is calamity and activity?

Think, think.
Think, think, think.

When will it settle? When will I finally enjoy that sweet spell of turbulent free existence?

It’s all a mess, this head of mine. I need a shovel and three trucks just to move half of what pops in every few seconds.

But what then, when the chaos has been set to an organized jumble of what goes on, what emotions linger, what I truly believe? What then?

How do you make sense of it all? Our minds can create, achieve, understand, panic, disturb, love, and so on. What will I end with? Is there anything to gain from this jumble of words, imagines, ideas, and emotions?

Clarity, now there’s a foreign concept. Everything, everything all at once, that’s how it works. All or nothing, there’s no other way I know. Life either passes me by or pours everything, good, bad, ugly, beautiful, exciting, frightening, all of it on me.

I never have answers, only more questions. Every answer I look for brings me just more complex questions. How do you answer questions with more questions? How to you settle on an idea, theory, concept, reality when all you have to go on is what might be due to speculation, due to your own line of questioning with little reasoning?

When do the questions stop? If they do, I fear it will be my end. I always wonder, I always analyze, I always interpret, but still I have no answers.

Shhhh, try to find the quiet, the clarity, the peace. Is it peace of mind or a piece of mind? Either seems remarkably possible. I suppose that’s just one more thing to ruminate on.


Some Wayward Thoughts

Unfortunately, NaNoWriMo was not a success. Although, it was my first attempt during a month that just got a little bit too crazy so I feel like I get a pass on this one. There’s always next time!

I haven’t been writing much lately, my life has been all sorts of surprises, excitements, disappointments, heart aches, and warm fuzzies this past few weeks. I need to find some time to hammer out some chapters, I’m thinking a library hunker-down is in order this week.

Updates? The insanity that’s hit me full force? Well, as I was getting heavily into planning my wanderlust experiences a new force came into my life, subtly then all at once. Needless to say it’s taking up a lot of my time, which I am more than willing to give. For lack of a better name, since for some reason it’s incredibly hard for me to come up with one, we’ll just call him Flynn Rider. Just insert all those cliches you know I’m thinking and you’ll understand what’s going on there with Flynn Rider. It’s one of those insane things that you don’t ever think actually exist.

Apart from this lovely and whimsical development, I’ve been dealing with a hurricane of tangled negativity. The brash speed with which this hit was unbelievable and frankly, nearly unbearable.  I’m still recovering from the emotional beating.

I’ve had excessive amounts of emotional changes from both ends of the spectrum hit me all at once. It’s something that has caused my mind to be a little bit scattered and blind-sided to say the least. But, all these things I experience are something I need both to grow as a person and a writer. What is good literature without experience? It’s just not good.

I’m hoping that this week I’ll be working on some scene setting exercises, which I will share with you. Just little excerpts to set a mood, tone, etc. I feel like I’m a little out of practice with the poetic-type prose. I haven’t written any of my bleak, post-modern short stories and I feel as if I may be over due.

My thoughts seem to be scattering to the winds yet again, dancing away with the dust.

Well, keep reading, dear reader and do love the skin you’re in, it’s the only one you get.

A Little Something…

DSC00008It’s been a crazy few weeks. It’s midterm season and while I have already braved a midterm exam, I have two midterm projects due next week. But then, there’s work. Two jobs… why do I do these things to myself? Factor all that in plus as active social life, an attempt at reviving a long dormant romantic life, and what do you get? You get over worked, exhausted, and a re-injured knee that sends the past year’s progress back to square four, because it’s not as bad as square one, but it’s still pretty rough. Again, why do I do these things to myself?

I’ve been frustrated with my injury and my crazy life. But, as I didn’t get called in to work my second shift tonight I decided to go for a walk. It’s Fall and my favourite time of year. I love the way the leaves turn and crunch underfoot, I love the way the air is crisp and fresh, and I love the way the frost hangs on the grass in the morning only to turn into tiny dew drops by the time the sun peaks over the horizon.


Sometimes I forget how lucky I am that I live in such a beautiful place. I’ve got nature literally at my front door. Although I’m technically in a suburb, every way I turn I see mountains. Every morning I drive down this hill and as I first descend I have the most beautiful view of the mountains and when the fog has rolled in over the city it’s one of the most serene sights.

So, I strolled around my neighbourhood and went through our little park. I turned into the forest and felt the leaves under the soles of my shoes. I took in deep breaths of chilled air and wandered around to the local elementary school. There was a young girl’s soccer team practicing on the field and the sight caused a ting of sadness in my chest. I miss my team and the game. Alas, I can barely run with my knee in its current state, let alone kick a  ball and take a tackle.

DSC00017As I turned around to walk back towards my little home, I started to think about writing. Yes, I know I think about this a lot. But, what am I actually writing about? What are any of us actually writing about? What does any artist actually try to convey? It’s all a little something called Life. It’s not like I stumbled on to some great epiphany, I assure you, I did not. But, when I really think about it, all art is trying to do is convey life, in any way possible. We’re all just trying to explain what it is that this crazy consciousness means or is or can be. No one really has the words or the flash or the brush strokes to be able to convey enough of it to reveal any semblance of understanding. But, we try.

Despite all my silly life issues, I forget to remember that everything is just Life. No one person’s happiness or pain is more important than another’s. We’re all in this crazy mixed up world together. Since Humanity could first lift their heads and look up at the sky, we’ve been trying to survive, to understand, to explain. This is it ladies and gentlemen, this is it.DSC00012

Similar Posts:
It’s Raining Indoors
Playing the game of life

(During my walk I was listening to the album The Earth is not a Cold Dead Place by Explosions in the Sky. So very perfect.)


I’ve stopped wearing my headphones.

Every time I take public transit, which is any time I head off to class to finish that daunting Bachelor’s Degree that’s been weighing over my head for the past five years, I’ve worn my headphones. I don’t look around, I don’t look at people, I lose myself in the wonderful world of music and lyrics. But I have to stop.

The other day I was sitting on the skytrain (it’s like the subway but above the roads not below them, for those of you not familiar with Vancouver transit) and I had forgotten my headphones at home. Curses! No music. I’d also forgotten my leisure reading. Curses a second time! I was not in the mood to read my textbook either, because let’s face it, when are we ever in the mood for that? So I sat and I watched the world of public transit. Everyone, apart from a very small percentage of individuals, was on an electronic device or had headphones in. Of the few who did not have an electronic taking up they’re travel time I think I saw maybe two people reading.

It occurred to me that none of these people were experiencing the world in that moment. They were all somewhere else. I watched each person and I started creating reasons, characters, stories. I watched as a girl texted vigorously with an elated smile on her face; she must have been texting someone who gave her butterflies. A man stood without any distraction just staring out the window watching the world pass him by; he was thinking of how quickly his years have passed or what he was going to make for dinner that night.

These are the types of things I began to notice, to think up. I listened to the creaking of the tracks as we whizzed past on them, or the distinctive bing-bang-bong sound that indicates the closing of the train doors. I listened to people’s phone conversations and the crumpled sounds of music through other’s headphones.

I experienced modern life from the side lines.

I will no longer wear my headphones.

This is what writers do isn’t it? We go out into the world and find stories in life, in experience, in living. Don’t we?

I love my music. I could listen to it for hours, hell I do. But enough is enough. I need to experience life, even if it’s as mundane as traveling on the skytrain or bus. I need to pay attention to human life so that I have an overflowing cache of anecdotes and experiences to fuel my writing.

Life is happening whether we’re looking up or not. I suggest we start looking up. You never know what might happen, I’m hoping it’s something extraordinary or even ordinary.

Similar Posts:
Observing the Emotional Spectrum of Others
A Day in the life of a bus driver
September 4, 2013 – Report from the Morning Commute