Tag: My Writing Struggles

My Desertion From The Webhosphere

Post author By Eiravel
Post date January 31, 2021
2 Comments on My Desertion From The Webhosphere

But nothing remains stable or sustaining in life; and after lockdown everything changed for me

2020 has been very challenging for me, I guess it has been the case for many of you. Before the outbreak of the pandemic or whatever else, I was always stuck on my PC and smartphone; always hunting down for ideas online, while trying to improve my writing skills; always going through the necessary learnings of leveling up my knowledge of the internet and its devices, of the technology-based services that I use. Have to say that before Covid-19, every morning I had enough time to write poems, fiction, think about what to blog, think about what to write; read books I borrow at the library and as well read e-books online, learn more about the services I use, learn about online marketing, be present on social media, have the time to daydream, take naps when too tired, and watch one hour of television. I guess that I’ve been quite productive during these years; I feel that I’ve been able to reach my main goals, I am satisfied with myself.

But nothing remains stable or sustaining in life; and after lockdown everything changed for me. I am now a carer, and my time is very limited. I have to juggle between many things, but I am learning about how to effectively organize my life and time. And though my writings have not been able to spread their wings as to fly away, or even if I haven’t been able to turn this passionate creative activity into a career, I realized that I need to write everyday as to equilibrate my life, to do an activity that is self-satisfactory and where I feel free, something that’s good for my soul. Perhaps I’ll be drawn to another activity that’s more rewarding, work on projects that will stir my passion so much that I’ll consider doing it for a very long time – that’s all I hope for, to get caught up in an interesting activity, something to really focus on, something that will make my life more beautiful than it is.

That’s why I need to focus deeply and in silence on what I’ll be doing, desert the web for it is too noisy for my empathic mind.

Writing, blogging, or even social media aren’t getting me anywhere, and I guess that the economic crisis we are facing because of Covid-19 makes it worse for an amateur writer like me. I am trying not to look pessimistic here, but I need to be realistic, I need to clear my mind of all the lies I tell to myself. I tried, but I can’t try harder. I don’t want to lose my mind again over matters that keep frustrating me. I need to accept the fact that I did my best. Yes, I am doing my best.

I realized that I need to practice more of my writing skills; I badly need an editor to edit my writings. Perhaps I’ve self-published too soon, thinking about all those grammatical mistakes I’ve made… I made a fool of myself somehow. All of these lies I tell to myself.

Thus I am considering another publishing route, seeking help to publish my books. I think it’s more realistic to do so than suffering from trying to self-publish, suffering from trying to understand it all, suffering from all these frustrations. Perhaps the pandemic was a whirlwind that came to adjust my sail, to push me into another direction, perhaps a better one. That’s why I need to focus deeply and in silence on what I’ll be doing, desert the web for it is too noisy for my empathic mind.

I’ve been thinking about the movie cast away lately, mainly about the end of the movie – that part where he stands in the middle of that crossroad, a metaphor for the choice that we need to make every single minute and every single day of our life, and of those signs or guides that some of us can’t ignore. And again, I had an existential crisis because of a movie😂. Again, I questioned free will, and what if… what if I was wrong again, what if writing is not for me anymore. What I need to do then? That’s what I am focusing about everyday, and yet, I keep returning to writing. Then what? THEN WHAT?😡 Silly me, cast away.

I have decided to lighten the rules of my game, to start a new writing, thinking, and creative process, with a new time schedule and new ways of doing things

While trying to replicate my writing process and online presence, I discovered that I had been doing it all wrong since the beginning; I realized that I didn’t manage my time well and balanced my life during the course of practicing writing and learning online marketing. Of course I’ve been able to write blog articles, stories, poems, or books, but unfortunately to the detriment of neglecting my house chores, which accumulated a lot, which meant more time spent on catching up with my chores, exhaustion and stress added to the mix, need of long rest, writings and learning were delayed. I am sure that I could have done more, better, I could have been more healthier. I was way too obsessed, too deep in it; I poured my energy into too many things at the same time, I thought that I was rushing towards a greater future for me, some type of freedom, a reward, to get noticed by people of the literary circle or a potential employer, or that even I could have made a living online. But it’s difficult, mainly for someone like me that is not at all tech savvy, one who does not well understand informatics. Thus, as soon as an idea spurred in my mind I had to write it down or type it, go straight on the web to research the subject, log-in my social accounts to check other feeds and comment or like on what interests me – I was all in it for organic traffic. But there was no balance, no time routine, I hadn’t imposed on myself a time to start and a time to finish. I have taken all of that too seriously, and in the end, though I worked towards my goals with a professional mindset and an entrepreneurial work ethic, I ended up with deceptions, being unhealthy, unbalanced, alienated, unenthusiastic.

That’s why after nine years (I think!) of being on-line everyday, I have decided to lighten the rules of my game, to start a new writing, thinking, and creative process, with a new time schedule and new ways of doing things. Of course, I still need the web to do research for my stories, to learn, to write, to read; I will also continue to post on my blog and post on my social feeds, but I don’t think that I’ll be able to be present everyday on the internet to read like and comment on other people’s posts, just like I did before.

My priority right now is writing, reading, and doing research about scientific, conspiracy, and pseudoscientific theories for Darcocyte II. It was not at all on my plan, especially after all the difficulties and obstacles I met, and that I am still meeting; but there’s something more personal and ethereal to it. It’s too late, I am inhabited by something that needs feeding. I also want to know what happens next in the story of Darcocyte; to write a book that I want to read. I just hope that it won’t take me four long years to finish this one too, and I also hope to write a little bit better than I did before😅.

Also there are those quotes about stepping out of my comfort zone that keeps appearing in front of my eyes. And where I have been thinking that perhaps I’ve given too much of my time and energy to the Webhosphere, where my activities were remaining too constant. It’s like I have to restart everything with learning how to get help, and to accept the fact that I do need help to get published. As I said, I think that I’ve made up things in my mind that only led me astray. That’s why I am taking it all back, recollecting all of my energy and pieces that have been taken out of me, as for me to start anew. Well, it already happened😤😅, that means I didn’t made it up🤔.

Tags My Writing Struggles, Opinion

Personal Narratives

Bits of thoughts from a shattered heart

Post author By Eiravel
Post date November 22, 2020
No Comments on Bits of thoughts from a shattered heart

Bits of my thoughts written on pieces of torn paper.

Its patience; my impatience

A river runs deep inside of me. And it takes its source from the mountain of my mind. It slowly flows, streams patiently, and on its way, it engulfs some water creatures, some aquatic plants, and loads of pebbles and soil, and this, all the while I sit on its bank, dreamily looking towards the vast sea.

Its patience; my impatience. And yet, the river it tells me that we are one; that its course is my course, and that all of these creatures also swim within me.

But I couldn’t wait. I wanted to speed towards the vast ocean, to meet all of its creatures, and swim freely within its large mouth — when the river in me, had not even met the other tributaries.

Thus I’ve taken Darcocyte out of my riverbed, there where it was still learning to swim, and rushed till the ocean. And there I drowned. But the river and I are one — same course, same pace, same path . . . but I was too impatient, too impertinent, a foolish head.

***

There is no bright star that lives in the space of my head, granting me wishes

The other day I was brought back to the reality of things, when I realized with sheer horror that Darcocyte is filled with grammatical errors and bad syntaxes.

There is no unicorn. There is no magical fairy or lamp, no fairy dust or magical wand, no wishing well, no good fortune, no celestial guides, faith don’t move mountains; the internet is not the vast ocean, it is simply a lagoon; there is no bright star that lives in the space of my head, granting me wishes; life is real, it is not surreal. There is only patience, diligence, hard work, logic, perseverance, the reality and knowledge of things, and in-depth analysis. The rest, only fiction, thing, that I need to wrap my mind around more often.

***

I didn’t know what to do. I panicked when I realized that I had written a first book that’s filled with mistakes, thus I’ve unpublished Darcocyte.

I’ve been reading Darcocyte again with new eyes, and this, after one whole year. And my heart couldn’t take it. I am stressing all over it. I have lost my writing rhythm; I have been thinking too much. My train has derailed from its track; I am staggering. From a streaming river, I returned back to a stagnant state.

Yet, most of the great writers said that the writer should forget their manuscript for some months, as to be able to re-read it with fresh new eyes, and thus be able to discern their mistakes, and self-edit more easily. And now I can confirm that it is the truth; but came to that truth a little bit too late.

I didn’t know what to do. I panicked when I realized that I had written a first book that’s filled with mistakes, thus I’ve unpublished Darcocyte. I am to blame for not having changed my baby’s diapers and gave it a bath for all of these months😅…

Trial and errors, and now I am going through a nightmare, a nightmare on editing street; a bad dream that came true.

***

I have finished my book of poems, and yet, I still have no clue about what to do next

I have finished my book of poems, and yet, I still have no clue about what to do next. I am filled with so much doubts now; and I have nothing to hang myself to. I’ve lost my way in a maze filled with traps. I don’t even know how to write . . . see, this is all crap, just like a robot would write. Me and my mind, we are unable to create properly, I am thinking too negatively.

It has never been exotic English. Some part of it was none-sense, ugly, bad litterature. I have failed right away as an indie-author. Yet I never had bad intentions. I wanted to embrace the e-bohemian culture, the DIY culture. For it was there that we are going, isn’t it? No. It can’t be 2020.

I wanted to do it for the others out there. For those that want to write or blog, to create, but who don’t know how, where, and with what to start. But I wanted it to be the truth of my individual experience. I wanted to be that light, even as tiny as it may seem, in this vast darkness. Just because I can do it. Just because I have the necessary determination and thickness of skin. I wanted to do it for you, for you to know the different ways you can take as to arrive at your destination — though without a dim, though without the necessary talent, and the education needed. It’s not for everyone, but for a handful of bold people, of that I can attest.

I’ve hurt myself against many interesting online services that are not available for most underdeveloped or developing countries. Services where independents and freelancers can dwell and tap into, as to free themselves from this birdcage. And most online articles are about those online services that are not available for us here. That really was my mission, to collect my own writing experience data and archive it on the world wide web database.

***

Could a book have a will of its own? When it is not ready, it is not ready

Have to say that everything pointed elsewhere. But this stubbornness of mine, this stupidity of mine, this impatience of mine. First of all I hurt myself against a method of payment that was not available for my country (first locked door), then the pricing formulation was too complicate and obscure for me to understand (second locked door), then I was overwhelmed with all of these frustrations. Things were not working smoothly, I was not seeing clearly. Thus, could it be that a book has a will of its own? When it is not ready, it is not ready. Have I not again listened to my intuitions? I guess so, for everything points to the mistakes I’ve made due to my impatience.

As I am writing this blog post, I don’t know anymore what to do. This whole thing is stressing me — and I hate stressful situations. I hate it when I am stuck like that. I hate it that things are not turning out like I wished them to be. I get mad like a child that throws a tantrum when I don’t get what I want😂 especially when I’ve worked hard for that something.

I still don’t know what I had in my head when I started it all out, but surely I always had good intentions.

I want to believe again, to be again, to try again

What is perfection without our own personality attach to it? Without our own magic. I have my own style of writing, not to the taste of everyone, not, for anyone — a little bit decadent, a little bit odd and surreal, perhaps incomprehensible to many readers, but always with parts of myself. I am not a book thief, everything that I’ve written has been meticulously researched online. Perhaps my texts, even my whole ideas have been mined and sold, but I will always remain the author, it’s already in the memory of the universe, in the memory of water. I am not blind, remember, I make one with the river, a river that sees clearly.

I want to believe again, to be again, and to try again. To attest of my online writing experiences. To believe again that there is a bright star that lives in the space of my mind, granting me wishes.

Thus talked the river in me:- slowly but surely; with patience and perseverence, you’ll stream till the vast sea, and there, you’ll meet the hermits and all the crustaceans; the starfish, the giant squid, the great shark, the enormous beluga, the five hundred thousand years old giant turtle, and all of the water creatures that live in the deep sea. And as for your desperation, I am water, and water cleanse and wipe out everything, from bad memories to what aches. I am water, and you are me.

Tags Darcocyte, My Writing Struggles

Personal Narratives

Nightmare on editing street

Post author By Eiravel
Post date November 1, 2020
No Comments on Nightmare on editing street

Note written on a notepad, pen, plastic plant, and black coffee — Notepad & Black Coffee

Today I waked up and thought about how much time and effort goes in editing my writings, and I asked myself – isn’t there any other way for me to alleviate my editing struggles? Am I condemned to never be able to spot my own grammatical errors, word dispositions, and wrong display of sentences right from the start. Also, am I condemned to go through all of these re-writings and editings, and still never end up with a perfect display of what I want to convey.

What am I doing wrong? I know that editors are the ones that bring that final touch to the finished book, but still, as an independent writer, I can’t afford to hire the services of a professional editor; and, I am sceptical of $5 or $10 *editors*… But if ever I’ll hear good recommendations about one, I’ll hire their services… that’s for sure.

Thus, during these last four weeks of Nightmare On Editing Street, I have been busy with editing a Halloween story, which by the way is a story that I wrote and supposedly edited last year, and that I haven’t been able to polish as to publish for today, and this, all the while also being busy struggling with editing my book of poems – where wrong words/sentences, grammatical errors, and non-sensical lines, keep popping up in front of my eyes, and this, each time I go though re-reads.

They are like Freddy Kruger or some other monstrous serial killer from a slasher movie, that lurk in the dark, imperceptible. You look once, they are not there, you look a second time, they are there, you look again, they’ve disappeared – which I guess is their favorite sadistic game to play, which is that of causing terror and horror in their chosen victims. And in me, it’s the terror of not being able to finish what I have started, and the horror, it comes through these mistakes that I discover after I thought that the piece was good to go.

It’s non-stop edit all the way😅.

Sometimes, I even wonder whether it was me that has really written this and that, or, even wonder paranoically whether someone around is messing with me, sabotaging my online work, because, I never seem to remember about ever committing such aberrant errors, or even, committed such a degree of omission while editing. Thing that’s very odd, even creepy, if you deeply think about it. A Nightmare On Editing Street – a haunted machine.

Perhaps I should blame my daily self-affirmations, “I write beautiful sentences, I write beautiful sentences, I write beautiful sentences” for tricking my brain to believe that what I have written is beautiful, or even, perhaps these self-affirmations might have triggered a strange phenomenon that cause my subconscious, which is slower to react than my brain, but more precise and wiser, to filter and spot the errors each time I go through the text, so that I might really write beautiful sentences… who knows how these obscure rendering works, or not😅.

Why, why, why? Other artists like painters or sculptors, they don’t need editors to edit their art! So why can’t it be like that for creative writing? Is it because I am not a native English speaker that I struggle that much with editing my own work, or, have I not practiced or read enough. What have I been doing wrong in my process? That’s so frustrating for me to have not been able to develop a personal editing strategy that would help me gain time, and as well as to end on a high note.

Suffice that I practice more, and perhaps, write slower than I actually write, as to develop this strategy of mine. Because this time, I don’t want to lose four and half years writing and editing like I did with Darcocyte. I know there has to be another way of discovering these errors right from the start of editing, or even drafting.

Or perhaps, I am putting too much pressure on myself, and I am dramatising for nothing. In the poem The Edit I wrote: This phase of edit makes my stomach churn; For it will soon be over, I confirm.

Tags My Writing Struggles

Personal Narratives

I won’t lower down my expectations

Post author By Eiravel
Post date September 13, 2020
No Comments on I won’t lower down my expectations

“Garner your strength, writer, stifle the ache, for your words need to flutter”

I know that the world is shaking right now, where most of us are sad, angry, aching, mourning; and that amidst this strange and wretched time, everything appears grim, morose, and without hope – but should our own heart be alike the gloomy ambiance that’s surrounding us? That’s the question that I’ve been trying to work on since my plans changed completely during that lockdown period… since the pandemic took over our world.

And since then, I am trying to work my way through this new shift in reality, trying to adjust the sail of my ship on that new ocean vibe, reorganizing everything in my life; trying at all cost to stick with a difficult schedule, as to find time to write. Since then – well, after I came out of a whirlwind of incomprehensible deception, demotivation, and gloomy emotions – I have shaken myself up, purged my poisonous thoughts, kicked my blues away, shifted my intent, modified my plans; and after many hours of self-introspection, I have finally been able to identify the root cause of this uncontrollable deception, which clearly made no sense at all. I then knew why earth had shaken underneath my feet, causing tidal waves in my heart.

I didn’t come this far to only come this far

It was such a strange moment – that point in time when fear, doubts, what’s inconceivable, and the strangeness of my uncertainties, merged, giving birth to my distress. It was a situation forced on me, at least that’s how I felt… and I just couldn’t let those negative emotions poison my heart anymore; I couldn’t let distress overwhelm my senses and stop me from thinking; I couldn’t let distress freeze my movements – for I didn’t come this far to only come this far.

The future is not written yet, tables might turn at any point in time, and tomorrow, everything is possible, the better as the worst. Then I decided that I shall think of that tomorrow with pessimism, for I want the better tomorrows, the most exciting of all tomorrows, I want to be that glint amidst the chaos. Thus, I decided to not lower down my expectations concerning my writing ambition – that of selling my own books, books that I like, crafted things with imprints of my own sentences, and of course, to feed this blog with my thoughts and wordcrafts. I decided to continue circling my thoughts around creativity, just because I feel happy when I use writing as my main medium of expression, just because I don’t force myself to write stories nor poems, or even force myself to think about what to blog next. On the contrary, I miss creating more, I miss imagining the next story I’ll write or photos I’ll take for my web pages, or even to sit down, as to craft more poems.

In the blog post harpooning the next day, I wrote about how I overcame my doubts and my fears and of all the dramatic situation occurring … but I didn’t expressed myself on what triggered that profound and uncontrollable distress that made no sense … which I happened to understand only after I went through a series of self-introspection. Found, I’ve missed the opportunity to market Darcocyte and this blog during that period where everyone was locked up at home, with only the internet as means to butterfly and socialize. Found that my doubts and thoughts about the errors I’ve committed were stopping me from thinking clearly about what to do next. Found that I was panicking over the fact that I was making the same mistakes over and over again, with intrusive thoughts and constant feelings that I ignored my intuition once more …

"Writer, garner your strength
Don't lower your expectations
For your words need to fly
Away, into the world."

But wait! You know what? In the end I’ve understood that my overwhelming negative feelings were not even about my trials and errors concerning the business of writing … It was more about me, something more profound, something more sensitive. An opened scar. The feeling that I had lost my wings, again. How much of intense emotions I felt during such a little period of time is unbelievable. Everything shifted, mingled, and then, raptured. All that I can say here, is that it was intense, very intense indeed.

Now I am back on track, after I’ve shaken myself out of the feelings of delusion and dilemmas. I’ve gained again my sense of logic, which as you all know is necessary to live in this reality. And after I’ve spotted my errors and identified the steps that I might have skipped, or even the bridges that I might have burned, I came to accept the fact that I was bound to fail, simply because I was not well prepared – in terms of payment gateway, money, registration of intellectual property, bad devices, those wrong technical setup, my paranoid thoughts about pre-plagiarisation of my writings, not having learned in depth about the technical and marketing part of selling books online… and it goes on and on and on – all of these issues that I haven’t properly worked on, when knowingly I had emitted the intent of pursuing the journey of the independent author … but dammit it’s hard. You write the book for four years while doing intense and risky researches, exposing yourself to whatsoever they beam at you, wondering if ever the things I’ve searched for hasn’t been combed through by intelligent services or the surveillance system, yep 🤔😝😅😂🤣. Thus there were lacunas. Thus the pathway didn’t align, it didn’t flow, it didn’t set, for there were too many missing ingredients.

I am trying another route

And of course, knowing what I know now, my expectations and dreams remain intact, though I have to now take a detour. I am trying another route. It will take the time and effort needed to concretize my expectations, to concretize my dreams. I am still learning, while the fire of determination and passion burns within me. I don’t think that one remains eternally an amateur in a chosen domain, and I do think that what I am learning now will surely help me in one way or another in the future.

Also also, one of my dreams came true! Tadaaa😅 I work from home now! Tadaaa … I assist my MIL! Tadaaa … not at all on my list of expectations, but strangely, this new priority forms part in the alignment of my journey as a creative writer. Like what! My path is starting to align … be patient, I say to my heart … a little bit more of patience, I say to my heart.

Tags My Writing Struggles, Opinion

Personal Narratives

Harpooning The Next Day

To be happy, make things that make you happy

I’ve been doing lots of thinking since this ill-wind blew its mortal breath upon the world. This situation, or these sequences of situations look like one of these fictional stories I watch on television, read in books, or even, same as those stories I write or daydream about . . . Sad days which surely have already inspired the writer in us.

Since lockdown, my life and my everyday habits changed suddenly, and overnight, I became the personal caregiver of my mother-in-law. I had to revise all of my priorities, and re-organise my everyday life – where I am still trying to reconcile writing my next book, blogging, parenting, my house-chores, reading, caregiving, and me-go-time on my everyday planning schedule. I had to adjust my time and even myself to this amor fati (love of one’s fate), and rethink about the basis of my own foundation. Slowly but surely, I am adapting myself to this new reality; adopting the change that came about; harpooning the next day.

I thought that I would be taken aback, or even feel dreadfully sorry about my recent decisions, while my life would be dreary . . . but it is not the case, fortunately. It is as if, my heart learned acceptance. I’ve let one of the birds that was caged within my heart flee.

Writing always haunts me, and my want to blog, write poems and fiction passionate me more than ever before. I’ve even submitted two pieces of mine during those two last months – a fiction piece, and a non-fictional one. Thus, my writing ambition has not weaken the least, on the contrary it has widened, and even perhaps, matured.

Right in the beginning of lockdown, doubts and darkness started to appropriate my mind – pessimistic feelings about my writing aspiration took its toll on me – I felt like a fraud, useless, stoopid, delusional. Lies lead to deception . . . and I was convincing myself that I lied to my self, because deception was gnawing my mind. My self-esteem and self-confidence took a harsh blow during this short, but yet how intense time.

The other birds in me were dying out of passion and enthusiasm.

But I am not a fraud, for I write. I am not useless; I endorse all of my responsabilities; good for others. I am not stoopid; I certainly know what I want, and certainly know what I am doing. I am not delusional; I see opportunities from my own perspective.

I’ve been doing it all wrong, of that I am sure. And though how slow I am, and how much time flowers take to bloom in me; and how slowly the birds in me learn to spread their wings, my mind is a fertile land. Perhaps I’ve seen an oasis which was only a mirage, or an oasis that they made me think was only a mirage . . . But the oasis in me is broader than this oasis, which by the way, is not a mirage.

Too bad! I guess, for I shall continue my way more individually than ever before. My fictional, poetic, and blogging happy endeavors appease my soul, and I envision a bright future filled of serenity, only because I swim inside this creative lagoon. I don’t see myself persuing these other activities that infuriate and frustrate me; that lock me up in total distress. No! I won’t give more power to negativity, for I want to live in happy places. The birds in me have the right to chirp as much as they like. I have the right to express myself, to express my creativity, and I can’t, and I WON’T, take responsability about how others personally interpret my writings – which to me is art for the sake of art.

If I had abandoned my creative persuit, I don’t think that I would have seen again the lagoon where I birthed out; I wouldn’t have found myself again. I would have been a total wreck. So I’ve decided that no matter what, I’ll keep trying, and if I don’t succeed, well, at least I know that I am making things that passionate me, and that I found a creative leisure that makes me happy.

Tags My Writing Struggles

Personal Narratives

My Sudden Realization Amidst The Crisis

Post author By Eiravel
Post date March 29, 2020
2 Comments on My Sudden Realization Amidst The Crisis

coupe of sparkling wine, handwritten note, in front of painting. — Cheers to the aftermath…

I have always been a quiet-over-confident type of person, mainly due to my loyalty and worship of the self; and where most of my tragedy shows stem from the fact that my self-esteem has taken a harsh blow. I lose all self-control when I feel that my self-esteem has been attacked; I see red, and I lose all sight of the pathway that I’ve slowly built.

My failures, mainly when I’ve planned and masterminded everything on my own, lead me to those feelings that are very hard for me to digest – that taste of bitterness remain stuck in my mouth for endless periods of my life.

For me, there is always someone or something else that is responsible for my failures, my mind then designating a culprit behind the unrealisation of my dreams – the start of my fall inside the pit of delusions, where these persisting gloomy thoughts turn into obsession.

Everyday I’ll be obsessing about who or what is, or are behind my failure – I’ll be telling this or that to my husband, or this or that when going at my mom’s place, looking sick, mad, psychotic, delusional, and where they will all try to assure me that it’s only in my head, and where… *sigh* well, you see the picture of them panicking when I go through this delirious phase – mother, sister, husband eyes go-go😳 while am raving mad, and being paranoiac about… well, it’s much more that I am being way to over dramatic, suffering from irrationality, going through some type of disturbance due to denial of failure, a sense that I have betrayed the self, my own self. Just a delusional type of indignation.

This obsession, it clouds my mind and prevent me from seeing what I’ve achieved, that is, my success of having written a whole book, one hundred poems for the upcoming one, as well to have written all these poems and articles for this blog, and so many short stories penned and typed here and there; this persisting indignation, it also make me forget about what I can do, that is write, versus my inability to make the right decision about choosing the right platform to sell Darcocyte, or even my incompetence to market myself, my book, this blog, my writings.

Eventually, after having been very very very angry (the delusional, irrational, and irrelevant kind), while anxieties made me eat a lot😂 – the viruses suddenly appeared, and in a strange way, my anger concerning the web, Darcocyte, and everything else that were primar sources of my frustration and craziness, quieten down. It was the shock, a large baff in my face, the sudden realization that I’ve been acting like an insane paranoiac, accusing everything and everyone, blaming others for I’ve not been able to complete my dream.

Things did not went my way and as I had envisioned them to be, which caused much anxieties and a great deal of annoyance in me; even going so far as to prevent me from finding solace in everything that I have already realized, even forgetting about all the years it took me to hone the skill of writing, the long hours of practice, the analysis of the books I love, the long wait until I finally finish Darcocyte – and then, just like that, Corona came around, slapped me in the face, and life suddenly seemed too short and fragile for me to be living inside the continuous and perpetual agony of denial, delusions, and paranoia. I am way too much in love with life and of all the beauty it contains to continue inflicting myself with the heartache of failures.

It’s hard for me, as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, a family member, a friend, to face the reality of this virus that is eating us up… It’s such a harsh situation, mainly when you have loved ones. Everything and everyone has been obliged to slow down – to think, to repurpose, to….. fill in the blank here; and where I had to rethink and repurpose my plans, too, going blindly into the uncertainty, while facing whatever is coming my way.

The aftermath of this whole crisis, what would it be? I wish I was the oracle or had that crystal ball, but everything right now is so uncertain and inaccurate, thus I continue to write and blog amidst the destruction, even forgetting that there was once denial and anger, and just doing what my heart wants, hoping that my loved ones and everyone else remain safe and sound.

Tags My Writing Struggles

Personal Narratives

The Struggle Is Real

Just a simple user

home desk corner with laptop, tablet and smartphone, alongside a mason jar mug filled of juice. — No control over tools. No control over that system. Who am I on the internet?

There was a time where I was taken aback by the websphere. I was discouraged, I was confused, I was overwhelmed — mainly due to the fact that I was blind as a bat flying in daytime. Thing is, to get the necessary control over something, you need to first and foremost have even the minimal knowledge of how it works; and to know the mechanism behind a process, you need to learn it as to be capable of designing your subsystems, as to be able to operate it as you wish and be the chief on top of that creation… and that’s from where stem my habitual frustration, which most of the time affects my online posting mood. I never had any whatsoever control. I am a simple user.

With time I came to understand that the main ingredient to a successful digital entrepreneurship is in fact your IT knowledge and background, or any other direct affiliation you might have with the internet system. And that’s where I got it wrong right from the start. I am not a web developer, I have no single knowledge of the in-depth of how IT systems work, nor am I affiliated to any of these subjects. I am only a droplet in the digital lagoon. My head is filled of dreams while surfing on the surface of the sea – not caring what lies underneath.

The internet and its components are complex processes, so are the software that were built upon this main foundation — subsystems that are easily manipulated by those behind the scenes – the back office – the core of the filaments of the web. And to actually have a minimum control over traffic, design, the security of your site for users and as well as your own data, one needs to be actually related in which ever ways to heightened level knowledge of the know-how IT system foundation works, as to be able to operate and manage your own web system… Isn’t it the truth? Mainstay: the person or thing that something depends on most in order to continue or be successful.

Thus, to prosper online, you may choose to become one of those tech moguls that have knowledge of development with full control over their products — literally go big, or else, remain a user that relies on control systems, which might as well be into deceitful and misleading activities that users, or even their site authors, might not be aware of, thus putting us, the users, and our work to great risks, perils, and hazards.

In the end I am only a simple user that relies on the virtual equipment and materials built, programmed, and managed by others . . . and as a natural born control freak, there are things that are hard for me to digest. But now that I am starting to get it, and where all of my illusions about the web have been shed — mainly my daydream of spreading pages and pages of my works from various high towers—yes, from the perspective of others, it would have been quite insane doing it like that—but where I strongly believed that on the internet it would have been elsewise, say, publishing, distributing, and posting to a grand audience… wouldn’t that hilarious and quite delusional musing fits what the internet should have been here. Me and my silly dreams of wilderness and independence.

But still, as a simple user—which I guess I’ll remain so for I only want to use the web to write stories, blog, create content, and as well as to make connections—I prefer to run within these complex systems and organizations than that of being killed, captured or whatever else, in a wilderness filled of vicious hungry predators, and whatever else cyber criminals that might be hidden on these isolated pathways. I am very very far from my dreamland, this all thing is only a joke.

Tags My Writing Struggles

Poems

A Cycle Ends – A Poem For This New Year

Post author By Eiravel
Post date December 29, 2019
No Comments on A Cycle Ends – A Poem For This New Year

And about the challenge I faced to write it