Personal Narratives

The Cure

A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity – Franz Kafka

Today, while writing this post, the house is very calm. My mother’s-in-law radio is off, my husband has taken my sons to the barbershop, and only the chirps of different birds, the windy weather, the shuffling of the leaves of trees, and some muffled distant sounds enter my ears. I love to write within the embrace of that kind of intimate ambiance, for the things that I wanna say flow out more easily… my inspiration quadruples. The television playing loud all day, my mind that remains alert when my boys are alone in the other room, and all of these upheavals, have contributed to a drop in my energy level and inspiration. I have lost my writing cadence, thus write less, thus feel miserable and irritated, I feel that there’s something missing in my life. I guess that the very fact that I feel like suffocating when I am not writing, and that I need it just like I need to breathe, is a sign that writing is this one thing that I want to keep doing forever. After all, it’s writing that has taken me out of the depression that I was suffering from. It gave me a purpose that makes me happy, and I guess that’s why I don’t feel well when everyday I am not writing.

If I haven’t written a poem or a paragraph for more than two days, I feel diminished, tired, and I feel like I am regressing, while my mind is very agitated with all of these words, voices that are stuck inside of me – they hammer the door of my mind so as to be free, they give me nightmares of all sorts, they push my boundaries, they alienate me, they torment me like ghosts, and it all stops… only after that I’ve freed my mind, only when they’ve become concrete, only when I vomit what has been choking me. And afterwards I’m free. Indeed, suppressed feelings, ideas, or any other thoughts that want to bubble up bring their load of frustrations and alienations.

The ideas are there, that’s for sure, but the lack of time (for I write turtleishly), and my fear of constantly editing my writings badly are causing inside of me a warfare between my ego (for it’s always telling me to write-and-publish-no-matter-what-I’m-good) and reasoning (I need to write very well so that readers might get a good experience), and I am there, trying to reason and tame my ego, and trying to balance reasoning with a pint of self-importance. Bringing balance to my body and mind is indeed very exhausting. But still, I need to write, no matter how difficult it is to master the English language as a non-English speaker. I make so many embarrassing writing mistakes, that’s for sure, even though unintentionally, but you know what?… I’ll keep doing it, because writing simply makes me happy.

I know that I still have a long way to go. I need to practice more so that I can get better at writing; practice and learn from my mistakes so that I don’t make those same mistakes again; learn and practice until that my writing process becomes so easy that I am able to gain the necessary confidence that will help me naturally write more everyday, thus, relieve my mind and heart of all these worlds that haunt my imagination and cause my alienation.

Writing. Writing. Writing. In the end, this method of artistic expression has been the only medium through which I had been able to express myself when I was choking on destructive feelings, when my truth couldn’t flow towards your sea, or when the repressed words and my repressed thoughts were strangling me until I couldn’t breathe, until I was losing my mind. And then writing opened its benevolent arms so as to welcome me, and my life changed completely. It was my cure from hysteria. I have to take it out or else I accumulate a poison that slowly kills me from the inside. So yes, a non-writing writer is really a monster courting insanity, I confirm.

Personal Narratives

A Period Of Intense Reflection

Last year I wrote this ‘essay’ to submit to a writing competition that was organised around the theme ‘personal Covid-19 lockdown experience’. Perhaps too flowery and too difficult to read and badly written; or even not at all prosaic, which is how an essay should be written — this piece was not chosen. Nevermind, I am posting it here on my blog, which is a personal ‘essay’ that describes the emotions that I went through during that tough and frightening time, where perhaps you’ll find it scarry how the feelings described seem vivid and palpable here.

A Period Of Intense Reflection

Perhaps I felt it since months ago — that strange feeling that something bad was about to happen. I felt disaster creeping through my veins, while my mind carried dreams of bad omens. Even the rain, the wind, and the chant of birds seemed then to me ferocious, ill at eased, with bruised voices whispering in my head that gloomy days were hungrily approaching. There was even a heavy weight weighing on my habitual feathery heart, but I just couldn’t put words on it. Now thinking about it all, I should have seen it coming . . . the tears, the blues, these emotional disasters, the fear, the paranoia, the lock down, and all these deaths — oh so many deaths. I should have learned to read the signs — all of these changes that operated in our field of aliveness, and perhaps, forced myself to conceive the inconceivable. But my mind couldn’t make sense of these augural molecules that fluttered around. But then, what could I have done, beside trying to survive amidst the hurts, the aches, and the paranoiac state of mind, which most of us went through at the news of Covid-19 extending its deathly shadow till our vibrant island.
During these first days of lockdown something in me started to shift, where I went through a radical change. Dark thoughts often took over, and I found myself drowning within a sea of stressful moments. You know, the mind endures so much, yet this heart of us tries its best to hold on to something that looks like hope. At least, that’s what helped me to keep going, to remain on track and not break down. I also tried to occupy my mind by continuing to make plans for the future, as I would have in normal time; to mold the future in my head so as to not be distracted by the tumbling down of it all, or even succumb to general panic.

In my head I kept preciously the imagery of a healthy tree with its colorful leaves clinging themselves tightly to their branches; though I knew that the leaves were infested and were infecting, and falling down to the ground, I resisted and fought with the gloomy ambiance that clouded my thoughts — with the death chambers and the catacombs, with the grim reaper and other angels of death, with the virulence of the virus and the fright, for in my head, I wanted it all to be beautiful. Beautiful like everything that I have ever known in my life.

Then, it was not the virus that I feared — not anymore. It was just the tension in me that aroused due to the fact that we were matchsticks stuck in a matchbox. Again, another issue that I needed to take care of. Again, another internal emotional disaster that I needed to overcome — those disagreements, those annoyances, my anxiousness everytime my husband had to go out to buy food, and everything else that got on my nerves like needles pricking my skin, my head, my whole body. And this time again, I was about to let the sickness, the ugliness, and the weariness take full control of my mind… however, my heart got in the way.

My habits changed during that lockdown period. It had to. Particularly in the areas of my life that demanded time and organizational management. All of my heartaches of yesterday were soon forgotten, leaving space to only the curiosity of knowing about what tomorrow would reveal, mainly after that destiny gave us such a harsh blow. And again, anxious questions began to trot their way in my head, such as, what about my children and their studies, and food and of other necessities; and how would our existence look like when it will all be over. I wanted my life back. I wished that everything returned back to normal, right before Covid-19 struck the world, before it all collapsed, before the awakening, before it all drowned under water, before it all cracked, before the fires, before the deaths, before angriness burst out, before the heartaches, before the confusion, before the fright. Before everything else went wrong . . . before everything else went oh so wrong. And I kept asking everyone around me why such horrible circumstances had to happen in our existing time-line. I couldn’t wrap my head around it all, and even made horrible nightmares where people were coming after me, extending their hands to reach my neck. These nightmares were so strange and horrific that once I even woke up screaming while in tears . . . I guess that our dreadful circumstances affected me more deeply than I thought.

However, I was able to overcome it. Always through doing those activities I like; indulging my mind into things I am most passionate about, like writing poems and stories, blogging, listening to music, watching movies, reading a lot — doing and thinking only about beautiful and aesthetic things. Always walking straight on that path, though how dark it is, and though how rocky it is; always walking straight, taking care to avoid looking in Medusa’s eyes, fearing that I might be turned into stone if ever I caught her gaze, or if ever hers caught mine; also, taking care of not looking back, fearing that I might remain frozen in the past. So I walked straight. And slowly, but surely, I regained self-control.
Fortunately, not everything about those days of lockdown had been about interior battles. It has also been a very enlightening period for me. I realised that I was running after impossible dreams, for the oasis I thought I saw was only a mirage. The moment I made peace with that truth, casting away those silly elusive thoughts, I started to move on to other things. New doors of possibilities unlocked and I started to dream again of paving my way through.
It seems crazy to have come to all of these realizations, and made all of these hasty decisions during these past two months of being under lockdown. Yet, I am happy with the choices I made, and even feel more relaxed than before.

Thus I wrote a short story to submit to the local collection of short stories — and while writing it, inspiration struck my mind with new ideas for my next book. During that period of time I was more than ever drawn towards the want to write poems too, and to explore the artistic world more deeply. Have to say that my wish to become an independent fictionist-poet-blogger has doubled — though I realised that the road will be a long and difficult one. But despite all of that I must trust that time is on my side. I need to.

I also had the time to learn some cooking and baking tricks with my co-sisters-in-law. We shared lots of cakes and other little pastries. I even baked a chocolate cake for my elder son’s birthday when in normal times we would have bought it. However, because I had put too much cocoa in the mix, the chocolate cake had a bitter flavor, while the buttercream icing was a total disaster. But I’ve learned about the importance of balancing the right ingredients for baking a delicious cake. Next time, I am sure that it will taste better.

As a consequence of the pandemic, and because we were all under lockdown, my co-sisters-in-law and I learned how to assist and take care of my 94 years old mother-in-law. Touched by our personal care, I guess, my mother-in-law then insisted that she didn’t want strangers to assist her. Thus, while still trying to pave my way as an autodidact writer — which proves to be difficult, with many hardships, errors and trials and the lot, I accepted the responsibility to assist my mother-in-law while still continuing trying to get there where I intend to be. And this time, I decided that I will be less pushy with myself, trusting much more my gut feelings, all the while learning to live in serenity and acceptance. Furthermore, I also took the decision to stop complicating things more than I should; trusting that everything is working out fine for me.

Thus, the Covid-19 experience has proved to be quite positive for me, a period of intense reflection where I’ve learned to accept these things that I can’t change. For sure, if that period of pause didn’t happen, I would have never taken a break — I would have continued to bang my head against the wall. My eternal frustrations, erratic behaviors, stress, and episodic paranoia then eased magically. I saw my life under a new daylight, and found myself again. And though I am starting all over, I am confident that I will do things differently, at least I’ll try my best to do so, for new beginnings have always been the main fuel behind my motivation and enthusiasm.

PS: So that I might improve my writing skills, practical criticism about this ‘essay’ is more than welcome here. Thank you in advance.

Personal Narratives

Romantic Words Matter

Happy Valentine’s Day 

Human heart is an exquisite soft red organ that beats intrepidly when one reads romantic poems and stories. Instantly our brain is fired up thanks to the chemical reaction that automatically takes place when lovely words overwhelm our senses. Romantic words tickle our fancy, and other organs too, and our want to love and be loved passionately, to cherish and be cherished ardently becomes irresistible. 

I like to think that the world could be a more peaceful and understandable place if all of us read romantic pieces that make us feel thrilling and exciting emotions creeping throughout our body. Love is a kinetic energy, a feeling that can be transferred to the other so as to make them, but also the giver, feel better and happier, where reading romantic stuff can instantly put us in a better and positive state. 

I also think that healthy romance is something universal, that our cosmic nature is love, and that our higher-self radiates meta love. Each one of us is free to love whoever we want, free to express our love in every format and form that we like; love likely finds all of us in one way or the other, in this lifetime or another. 

I don’t think that reading love poems or books of romance turn you into a stupid person, or is a waste of time, nor that it induce us in error by plunging our mind in a world of confabulation and phantasm; instead, I think that reading romance mellow the heart to transform you into a softer person – you wait for it patiently knowingly that the romance you’ll experience shall make your heart race and set your feeling ablaze, same as when you read these romantic poems and stories.

Flowers, box of chocolates, coffret❤️

Romantic words is a necessity in this particular time where loveless degrading brutal sex, drowns significant passionate love making in a sea of barbarism. Yes, loveless act of copulation lower your vibration, to afterwards leave you in the gutter of despair and darkness and addiction. The pure electrical orgasmic energy that goes from the tip of your toes till the crown of your head when selfless love abounds can’t be compared to any other type of emotional experience, as you are positively energized by the love frequency which makes you vibrate higher, that restructure your whole body. And wetting your pillow every night or crying forever over the partner that left you is a sign that you haven’t really learned to love yourself first. And all this heartache and anger you feel attracts negative entities that suck your life and energy, your health, leaving you in a gloomy and deprival state. What if I told you that sadness, anger, jealousy, and all these other negative feelings turn you into a magnet that attracts bad times, experiences, and things to you… would you learn to let go, to accept that this person was only one of the many that you’ve met on your path of life, while everyday people are grieving someone that they will never see again in this lifetime. You let the other go, knowingly that you’ve loved them as you’ve loved yourself, and the love they give to another is like a chain letter that started with you, and you’re ready to love again and again and again, until your high positive energy naturally attracts your soulmate. See, you’ve read these loving words, hasn’t it somehow changed your feelings about love? Haven’t you felt a shift in your level of energy? Haven’t you vibrated a little bit higher than that in whichever negative state you were? 

In a world where many of us are unable to communicate clearly our feelings of love, romantic words matter, for the writer pours all the love they have in their heart in these poems and stories, and this love-wave transforms into a kinetic positive energy that reach the reader’s eyes and mind, so that instantly they might vibrate higher to the frequency of love, which is the most positive of all feelings that exist. To read love poems or books of romance is a blissful act that entertains the mind and inspires our own being to be more caring, soft, and loveable to the other, but also to our own self. 

The act of writing love poems is in itself an act of beauty. It comes so naturally when you are in love, or when you simply love. You feel the heat of positivity, the warmth in your heart, and you are amazed by all the love that your heart contains, and to which degree it beats each time you write the word love and romance. I myself when I wrote these love notes made for romantics, meant to be used as you wish, I felt a great deal of joy, something that’s close to what’s ethereal. I’ve also wrote twenty new mini love notes, but I was unable to upload the PDF version I made…

Romantic writings are soul soothers, a bridge that connects two hearts and mind, a link towards that infinite vessel that contains the light of love, and all you have to do, is just grab the warmness of the language of love, its softness, and this dreamful cotton candy feeling.  

Personal Narratives

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🤔.

Personal Narratives

The abandonment of a piece of writing is inconceivable to me

The abandonment of a draft is inconceivable to me, for it’s like abandoning a piece of myself; where this fear can even lead me towards obsessiveness. I don’t want to tuck away an idea that birthed out of my mind under piles of sheets and notebooks, to forget it in a dark corner, or even for that piece to remain untouched or unopened in the word processor. I want it to have a life, to have a chance to become concrete, to be touched by the heart and mind of others. Isn’t existence filled with objects, things, creatures, and beings that had the chance to exist, a chance to form part of reality? I know that I might seem too fanciful here while describing my fear of abandoning a piece of writing; but you know, creatively speaking about something isn’t at all superlative. 

Thus, I try as much as possible to not let unfinished writings sit for too long in my notebooks and word processor; I always try my best to finish them, to give them a life, to embellish them with the needed words so as for them to exist in the dimension of books and blogs. I think that’s why my mind is constantly busy with thinking and imagining, always trying to envision how the story unwinds. My head is a busy corner, an ant hill. 

Due to my fear of putting away an idea, a draft, or a piece of unfinished writing, I take time to create content, for I am unable to move on to another piece, to come up with the next story, poem, or blog post, not until I have finished the writing at hand. 

I made it a rule of thumb to finish what I have started, and this even though another idea arises in my mind, tempting me to abandon the work at hand. I try as much as possible to resist the urge to move on to the next writing project, because that next idea might as well remain in an unfinished state, and in the end, everything that I would ever get, is, an accumulation of unfinished drafts. 

I won’t tell you that my notebooks and online documents aren’t filled with unfinished writings, of scribbles scattered here and there, of jotted down words that beg to become sentences, of writings that I am too lazy to edit – nope, but most of them will form part of a bigger writing project, or will end up on this blog, or even as pieces added to my stories and poems. They are all mapped in my head and online files, and when needed, all that I will have to do is retrieve them. 

I prefer let something die in me instead of birthing it out from my mind to then afterwards let it in a state of abandonment; to toss it away and and let it die, to forget it, for, they come to haunt my dreams, insert themselves in my daydreams, and I just can’t stop thinking about them; they constantly arise in my mind. Thus the principle I’ve imposed on myself: to always finish what I have started, and this, no matter how hard it might be, or even, how much I want to work on another writing project. 

I have to constantly remind myself that it’s easy to imagine things and stories; but that to be able to concretize an abstract idea that only me can envision, and to unwind stories, poems, and my thoughts logically, in the universal language that most of us understand, I have to do the hard work of weaving my words together in a comprehensive and beautiful way. And it’s the fact that I have to go through the pain of all these re-writings that makes me want to abandon a draft that I have enthusiastically written; but then, it always happen that during the process of re-writings and re-edits, which I always think will be boring and not at all exciting for my mind, something else happens – that piece of writing always take a new shape, there is always a new passage that unfolds, which is always different from what I’ve imagined it to be. That’s how I always convince myself to finish the work, knowingly that I will end up with a different copy than that of my first draft, which in itself is a great reward for the reader that I am. 

If I had abandoned my writings, today I wouldn’t have written two books (well, though one is still at the unpublished state and the other had to be unpublished because it was filled with errors… but soon I’ll rectify everything), one of my short stories wouldn’t have been published in an anthology, and this blog would have been empty. To me, every single word, thought, sentence that comes out from my mind are worthy of being concretized and seen and read by other minds than mine – that is to say, to expand the field of this reality, while making it a little bit understandable, a little bit less boring, saved from the hands of abandonment. 

PS: as I am still learning the skill of editing effectively my own writings, all constructive criticism about this post are welcomed.

Personal Narratives

My 2021 Motto

Every year I chose a word (theme) or a sentence (motto) that I will be able to apply in my life for one whole year, as to be able to become a better person. For example, I had chosen ‘people only understand from their own level of perception, so stop stressing over what they might think’ as my 2020 motto. ‘Do the things that make you happy; disregard everything that frustrates you’ was my motto for 2019, while ‘happiness’ was my 2018 theme. These little reminders help me to remain positive, and to live with less stress and frustrations; they help me to remember that staying happy is a powerful remedy against despair and the vacuumness of life.

I don’t want to use pills and potions, I only need to silently affirm those words everyday as to remember these affirmations each time I face stressful situations, or even when I feel these negative emotions creeping in.

My 2021 motto came easily to me for I kept hearing and seeing the same word over and over again; but it’s only while writing this post that I finalize the whole sentence of it. I guess that this word wants to exist more, and wants its definition to be spread out in the wild. But thing is, I have a very conflictual relationship with this word, for I blame it for everything that went wrong in my life. Till now I haven’t been able to find the right formula, or to make better analysis that might lead me towards making better choices.

Yes, ‘choice’, this main deterministic factor, which, I am sure determines our whole life – because certainly everything is a matter of choice. Every second of our life is shaped by a choice, whether it’s by us, or a choice made by another. We give power to other people by making a choice, or even by deciding not to chose; happiness, sadness, freedom, death, life, health, and everything else, every outcome, the whole future, are shaped by the choice we make.

Well… we won’t enter a philosophical debate about my thoughts on free will and determinism, mainly not after I’ve watched the TV series Devs, which challenged my mind on the concept of a deterministic and quantum universe (digging up SF stories here), where now I go with the moment you make a choice the mastermind instantly calculates the pathway; but I cannot decide whether all pathways have already been calculated, or whether new roads align as soon as there is input of choice, for, it is our choices that determine our path… but what about the choice? Why did I chose at first😂. Too complicated, need to leave it to the big thinkers🧐.

Anyways, I have chosen as my 2021 motto, ‘the choice I make determines the outcome; your future depends on your choice’. I’ve started to use this motto, thing that I badly need right now, or ever since I’ve lost my daily writing rhythm and daily internet routine, since I have a new occupation on my everyday schedule and where I haven’t been able to effectively balance my time since then.

I am still off-course and disoriented; I think that I have burnout symptoms. I don’t know how much time it will take for my mind and body to recover from all the forcing I’ve imposed on myself; I don’t even know if I’ll be able to get back to what I used to be doing before. I still don’t know what awaits me.

I just hope that as soon as we enter 2021, I’ll be able to make the right choices that will help me stay organized, find the right balance, make some extra time to be online, and of course to write and exercise my mind everyday. Thus my cure for the coming days, the choice I make: to write, read, watch TV, listen to music, and lots of rest.

Also, since this morning the stoicism philosophical word ‘memento mori’ (Latin for ‘remember that you [have to] die’) has been playing in my head… I guess it’s the answer to my inquiry about what might be the world’s theme… I don’t know, perhaps it’s the actual state of the world that’s been hammering inside of my mind, thus my thoughts about the inevability of death. Now should it be a reminder to me that we are all mere mortals that anyways are going to die, and that remembering that fact could help me make better choices in 2021… I still don’t know… for wouldn’t that be too morbid? Well, I need to think more about that!

Personal Narratives

Let’s talk about Airplanes and shooting stars

Yesterday, while closing the window of my bedroom at night, I saw a bright star in the dark sky – well, that’s what I thought at first glance. But then, it moved, and suddenly I realized that it was an aircraft in the night sky, and instantly the lines: can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars, I could really use a wish right now, sung by Hayley Williams (from the group Paramore) and B.O.B were playing in my head. And believe me or not, I made a wish, while pretending that it was a shooting star. I wanted to take a photo of it, to capture this moment, but I was suddenly called elsewhere. I know that I should have taken this photo so as to accompany that blogpost, but well!

Nevertheless, I continued to think about the lyrics of this song, which by the way is titled airplanes (not, aeroplanes😅), and I told to myself, wowww! The one who wrote these lines has certainly once watched a bright object moving in the sky, at night, and instantly compared it to a shooting star, and afterwards, wrote it down, and where yesterday, these same words came to my mind when I saw a bright thing moving in the sky… isn’t that great to remember the poetry of things like that? To dwell in the beauty of the moment by remembering the lines of a beautiful song; isn’t it how life should be? Opening or closing your window, or doing whatever else, and find beauty randomly, and feel appeased in a strange kind of way. Isn’t it how serendipity looks like? Having a wonderful experience by chance.

Comparing a shiny moving object to a shooting star is such a subliminal metaphor

Comparing a shiny moving object to a shooting star is such a subliminal metaphor. That’s why I love metaphor that much, because I remember the symbolic terms and their representations much more than I remember their literal form. Well, that’s why I find figurative arts and writings interesting. They bring me those thrilling moments that I miss in my life.

This writer’s mind is surely fueled by wonders; a happy place filled with beautiful poetic words, for, as to compare an airplane to a shooting star, one’s head is, and without any doubts, a fertile land of imagination.

As for me, what I wished for when I saw that bright light which really looked like a shooting star, was, to have the same interesting and vivid imagination as the one, or the ones who wrote these creative and catchy lines; but I also wished that I could write better, and skilled enough to spot right away all of my grammatical errors.

And you, will you make wishes out of airplanes?

This is the link to The official video for “Airplanes” by B.o.B featuring Hayley Williams of Paramore.

P.S as always, if you find any type of errors that I did not catch while writing, please do comment below. Don’t hesitate to be my personal critique😅

Personal Narratives

Let’s talk about the weather

Drops of rain on a white flower
Drops of rain on wild flower (Thunbergia Fragrans). Picture taken in my backyard

Perhaps by writing this post I’ll summon a heavy rainfall that will replenish our reservoirs and cool down the summer heat

Today I don’t feel like sitting down as to think about what to write next, or even to concentrate while re-editing Darcocyte. I just want to lay here, on my bed, and blog about anything that comes into my mind; but I don’t want to write about what hurts. I want to write about the weather. Yes. Let’s talk about the weather.

Right now it’s cloudy outside, but the heat is still unbearable. My house is like a sauna, and the sprinkle of intermittent rain makes it worst. They told us to save water; they have even set up a big fine for whoever is found guilty of wasting the precious liquid, for our reservoirs are completely dry. Drastic measures for drastic time, that’s how it goes, I guess.

I always feel lethargic and very tired when it is too hot. Heat seems to put me to sleep. My mind, too, gets heated up, and I am unable to concentrate, to work. I just want to lay there, under the shade of a tree, and sip lemonade while reading a book, or even while watching a good movie. Even while writing this, I feel like it’s a bit of hassle for me, and I don’t even know if I’ll be able to publish it. I went to read a column on Paris Review after I wrote only two paragraphs here, and I just came back, inspired to write down my own thoughts.

Perhaps by writing this post I’ll summon a heavy rainfall that will replenish our reservoirs and cool down the summer heat😅 . . . who knows! After all some people execute the rain dance, and it seems to work.

The heat wave was troubling me so much this morning that I even came up with a conspiracy theory, which for sure will end up in one of my science fiction stories. Clue: satellites and sun. Like what! You can find inspiration everywhere, extracting it from every type of experience and moments, even when you are suffering from heat.

Have to say that my plan for this month of December was to blog regularly, and as well as to upload everyday on social media, so as to challenge and motivate myself to write and create again, to practice more my grammar skills and writing techniques, to force myself to come up with something, and to take myself out of this gloomy ambiance am in since I wrote bits of thoughts from a shattered heart. But yesterday the pressure of the heat was way too strong, and I felt tired, and I ended up doing nothing.

Thus, my new challenge starts now, that is to edit as I write, and to make the less grammatical mistakes and bad syntaxes errors as I can.

I know that when you are self-editing, it is important to forget the work for some time, to put it aside. But I need to challenge myself upon this matter, which is the only way I know that can help me level up my writing skills, but also my editing skills.

So, dear readers, if ever your keen eyes find errors in any of my posts, or even if my writings seem non-sensical, please, don’t hesitate to give me feedback in the comment section. I am open to every type of criticism, but not to the hate type😅. Thank you in advance.

Personal Narratives

No. I am not suffering from writer’s block

No. I am not suffering from writer’s block. My brain is just consumed by the too much thinking I make as to find a way to balance my life right now. It’s still a little bit chaotic, for I still haven’t found my pace amidst life happenings.

No. I am not suffering from writer’s block. But a type of fear has started to consume my heart. It’s still a tiny spark, this fear – but in the long run, it might as well set ablaze whole forests in my heart, in my mind.

No. I am not suffering from writer’s block. No, I don’t fear criticism, because I understand that to each their own. I don’t even fear of sounding stupid, because ridiculousness never killed anyone. I don’t fear those who like to point their one finger right at me. Because I’ll snatch it out with my teeth, munch it, and then spit it out in the wild as for the vultures to chew it – see, I just wrote a horror scenario😂 also peace to everyone. Thus, I am not suffering from writer’s block.

But this fear, it concerns much more the fright of losing her … my muse … because I am not penning down lines of poems and paragraphs of stories as I used to do everyday. Yes, that’s what I fear the most right now – that she will leave me, and that I will be left to dry and wither, and finally, die a slow death inside.

I am like that passionate lover who does everything they can to prove their degree of affection and adoration to the beloved of their heart. Thus, to sit down everyday as to write is an offering to my muse, this gift of creativity. I don’t want to use my muse. I want to possess her – well, metaphorically speaking of course.

Seeing that I am not a native English speaker, I write very slowly, turtleishly, frequently stopping in the middle of a word or a sentence to think about the right English term that I should use, or even to linger on the arrangement of my words. And sitting with my muse, which to me is the only audience pleased by my amateurish writing, while thinking and focusing, is a must for me. But it takes time to make adjustments, to find the right or perfect balance between my chores, my duties, leisure, relaxation, writing a new book, blogging, imagining; to settle in a new favourable routine that’s promising for me.

And that’s where my fear stems from – the fear that in between, my muse will become dormant again, burying herself under piles of inactive feelings and random access memories agents; or even, dying out of hunger, she would leave me for another more enthusiastic and thrilling mind. That my creative influence, inspiration, will sink furtherly at the bottom pit of my mind, that same shallow area where I went to deter it, to awaken it, to activate it, while practicing vigorously for all of these years, so as to beat the odds, which by the way is my favorite game to play.

No. I am not suffering from writer’s block. It’s just that my brain is drowning within an ocean of thoughts, amongst which, thoughts that my muse might abandon me … thus the cause of my present fear.

No. I am not suffering from creative’s block, because today, while being Friday, I have been able to write this blog post which I’ll be revising tomorrow, to finally publish it on Sunday. And while we’re at it, I’ve also got the idea about the photo I’ll be taking to ship with this blog post, which is a little note that I’ll tape on my back yard brick wall, accompanied with some wild plants. Thus, this issue has been settled. No. I am not suffering from writer’s block.

Personal Narratives

I won’t lower down my expectations

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.

Personal Narratives

Writing abates the storm in my heart

On a wooden table, a pen on an opened notebook, a hat, a mug, and flower
writing to relax

Writing abates the storm that often rages in my heart – like frustrations, anxieties, sadness, anger, unacceptance, incomprehensiveness, and all of these other emotional disaster that wrecks my all.

When I write, my heart feels lighter, my soul soars higher, I can see clearer, and I feel happier. When I am immersed within, only facing my own emotions and all of the characters that wildly run in my imagination, I feel an in-depth connection with the cosmos, where, metaphorically speaking, we work hand in hand as to give substance to what abstractly appears in my daydream mind, and where for me, it’s relaxation to peacefully reach out for these buried ectoplasm that carry memories which stem from immemorial times.

It takes time, energy, practice, and every once of concentration as to be able to dig deep inside, in search of stories and poems. Peace of mind, of the heart, and of the surrounding environment is a must, and to remain alone with yourself in a silent room, as long as possible, is what triggers the deep dive – at least for me that’s the type of exercise that helps me to write, though how difficult the craft of writing is.

“Tell me wind, tell me tempest, tell me sea water, and everything else that carries memories and murmurs of the world, if you could guide my hand and guide my heart while I write, perhaps this heartwrecking environmental disaster, this spilled oil that traps the sea and its creatures, and pollute our beach and our air, could have been prevented…”

When writing a story I never know the type of characters that I’ll meet along the way, precisely on one of these days where I am going through an emotional roller-coaster. Love, passion, creative enthusiasm, or any other overwhelming feelings trigger the necessary inspiration which helps my sentences to come alive on paper or screen.

It is an adventure that takes place in my imagination; and though the pen is in my hand, or typing the words on a keyboard, I am only an observer who is thrilled to know more, to know how the story unfolds, eager to take part in the lives of these characters.

There is something soothing that takes place when I write, or even while trying to get the necessary inspiration and ideas for stories and poems. I am unable to describe clearly what really takes place in my heart as to share it with you, readers… all that I can say is that it’s a gentle type of peace that invades my heart, but also a bit of pleasure, an once of satisfaction, and excitement too. Thus I am unable to name with exact precision the feeling that takes over my heart when I write – this emotion that calm my nerves when I feel down.

Through writing, there have been so many emotions that have been thrown away on a stormy heartfelt day, that now, I am unable to live the rest of my life without penning down my thoughts. I don’t even want a day to go by without having mused about a story, a poem, or even, without going on thinking about what to blog next.

Perhaps this all thing that I am doing might sound silly to most; where my creative state of mind and my trying as an author-blogger wouldn’t be understood by the many… I don’t know, I am just guessing, perhaps, wrongly guessing. But still, to those people I respond, or, I’ll respond, that all I know about, is that writing abates the storm that rages in my heart.

“Wind, blow through me, and lend me your memories while I write, to abate the storm that rages in your heart : to calm down the fury in my heart.”

Personal Narratives

Women, Sensibility, And Fiction Writing

Happy International Women’s Day

Evening clutch bag, fake pearl necklace, eyeshadow palette, beige transparent silk scarf, and red petals scattered on an handwritten note.
The fantasque mind of women

As a reader of fiction, I never choose the book that I’ll be reading based from the name that’s inscribed on the book cover; neither will I ever pay attention to gender or race… these information are of no whichever use to me, for I have my own personal choosing criteria — and it’s where only after that I’ve read the book (of course if the author’s style pleases me) that I am interested to know who the writer is; eventually looking to read more of their work. And till now, I remain greatly appreciative of women’s work of fiction, for there is a gentleness, the acceptance, something more delicate and dreamy in their personal style of writing fiction, accentuated with these feminine delicate emotional attributes that unconsciously embed themselves right into their stories, and as well as the characters that make up these stories.

I do think that’s why fiction written by the feminine genre stirs that much our feelings as women, for we sense the understandment and delicate attention brought to these character’s conception. Anyway, doesn’t it take a woman to understand, or even to know what women want and secretly fantasize about – thus their stories fulfilling our (mostly I think) wildest dreams.

When I read fiction written by the female genre, I feel the strangeness that inhabits the depth of the soul of women, and of their thoughts that escape like birds out of a cage in the written form… I feel the relief from the frustrations… I feel that there is a parallel way of thinking that ties the feminine genre mind — some sort of mystery blended with delicate intentions, without austerity, carved in fine prose, without details to shake up our reading escape and fantasque dreamy mind.

In my opinion, all women, without exception, are all born with that maternal instinct encoded deep into our genotype from conception, thus this tendency to reassure, and to force characters to find that light at the end of the tunnel – to find their happy ending, one amongst our deepest feminine fantasy, alongside finding the right charming prince… Isn’t it so?

Of course, male writers write mostly about men because they are men, and where sometimes, or more than often, there seem to be a lack of further visualization and valorisation of their feminine character, say, only portraying depressed, insane, frigid, volatile, hysteric, melodramatic, or psychotic distressed gyals with no whatsoever chance of making it in a way or another (😅hope I am not over exaggerating here, but that’s what I’ve understood).

But what about women then? Are they lesser able to navigate in lagoons where their main character are the male genre? And what about the famous detective Hercule Poirot, main character written by a woman — Isn’t there something undeniable and unique in the way the character and his sidekicks are portrayed in the books; all these mysteries penned down like the remembrance and metaphor of our own feminine condition, obscured and intelligently nuanced for proper consumption… Or is it only again that mind of mine that is not on the same frequency as everybody else?🤭

Anyways, for me, there is still something—even as slightly as it may seem—that differentiate the writing style of a woman that writes from that of a man that writes fiction, and where the subtle, some elusiveness, and the sensibility of women, versus the detailed and roughness, dominate the scene and signature of both genre.

In women, I compare thee the poem I wrote recently, I take that step forward to reveal metaphorically and in the most beautiful language there is, my intimate and personal thoughts about the essence of women, because nothing compare, or ever will compare, to the feminine genre. I do think that our contributions to a balanced world are key determining factors to the smooth running of our society as the human race. Of course, nobody is perfect, and women, with all our flaws, feminine hormones going haywire, and lack of self-understanding, are more prone to afflictions of the mind than that of our consort, and to me, it’s these unconscious breadcrumbs left in between lines for the mind to escape on its own that beautifies and mystify fiction written by women.

So, what do think folks? Are we on the same page concerning the sensibility that emanates from fiction written by women?

Personal Narratives

Writing Is what I Want To Do


If there is one verb that inspires and motivates me to go further, and to do more, it’s without contest the verb “be”. I believe that what we really want, determines what we become in life — hence, the where there is a will there is a way quote. But only if this was accurate . . . make a wish and all of your dreams will come true . . . life would have been different, I guess. But for a dream to come true, it demands efforts — lots of it, for it is not magic. Most of the time, for our dreams to come true, there needs to be a combination of great passion, hungry acquirement of the knowledge behind the thing sought after, practicing with great endeavor, keep focussing on the pathway your slowly building, while not caring about what the others are doing, and surpass oneself as to beat the odds. And of course, to each dreamer at work, their own level, from which they will begin the work towards the accomplishment of their dream.

As for me, I began from the level of a reader — a connoisseur of fine writings. I already knew that the stories that I would write needed to be of the same aesthetic as those sentences I love reading—I knew only that, and for the rest , that is, grammar, punctuation, learning to work with a word processor, blogging (which is different from writing fiction)—I had to produce the necessary effort to acquire the necessary skills that would finally make my dream come true.

Eventually, my efforts were fruitful, as all my work can attest; but now that my dream of writing stories and poems have materialised, the new dream that I want to make real, is, making a living from my writings — become and independent professional author of fiction . . . but it’s also here, at that point of making sure that my projects materialise through to the end, that I find myself — not lost, because I am already on the road that I’ve chosen; but rather stuck within the process of trying to find the most logical ways of attracting the right audience, or customers, that would eventually connect with my creative style.

Sure, a legit publisher (because they have the needed connections, bird’s-eye-view, and the necessary book marketing knowledge) would have taken all the hassle of marketing (which drains all of my creative energy) off my shoulders, but sadly, it’s not the case, so, prepare to see an avalanche of my works flooding the web…loll, well, until I go back finishing my next book. I am ready to launch my career, because writing is what I really want to do. Come what may, this is what I want to be.

Personal Narratives

Science Fiction, The literature Of Ideas

I really don’t know how this all began in my head, I mean, how did I came up with the idea of writing a science-fiction novel — the most difficult genre to be writing, mainly because there needs to be lot of researches in order to be able to build a whole new world, system, as well as things that might work for the story. Have to say that I never intended writing a story on such a complicated genre, and yet, gradually as the story took shape, I had to acknowledge that it took the form of how it had been shaped in, that is, sentences mended together to form a science-fiction story.

I do love science-fiction, but I never envisioned myself writing one — where I was much more inclined to write an epic paranormal romance, due to my poetic mind and love of Romanticism. Till now, I still can’t seem to realize that I spent four and a half years writing and researching as for Darcocyte to become concrete.
Perhaps it was the ambiance of the web and all of these new technological ambitions that fascinate me so much, or the unleash from the depth of my subconscious of all the Christopher’s Pike and other weird tale magazines I was so much fond of in my teen and young adult days . . . does it matter now? . . . I think it does, because now that I have published Darcocyte, I have the etiquette ‘author of metaphysical science-fiction’ tagged right upfront all of my online accounts; and as someone with eclectic taste and a mind as organised as a colony of ants, I really don’t know where will all my pieces of multi-writing-genres, topics, and themes find their way among my social feeds. Guess that’s why I love blogging so much, simply because of the ability to organize within these pages my plural taste, and sharing them with a simple URL for like minders to find my posts.
Thus, I hope that through Darcocyte, I have honored the essence and background of what describes the best a science-fiction story, which is, a story about life in future, or what it might be like in an alternate world — a literature of ideas.
Now that it is over, I mean, finished with the story writing of my story, I clearly see that I’ve created a whole new world only through creatively mending words together, and to me, that’s all magical; saying to myself that I did it . . . I did it; I was able to make my dream come true, and that’s, that’s all that I needed, as to regain that, which I had long lost.
If you want to read my idea of an alternate future, head to Amazon to buy & read Darcocyte.
Personal Narratives

The word that sounds best to my ears

It’s a resonance to my ears, to my mind

If I told you that the word ooze tickles the fancy of my mind, where this one word is a lullaby to my ears, it ooze and leaks its way throughout the realm of my imagination, it makes my internal chords sensible to a hum-like call, it oozes through; it oozes true; it oozes /oo/.

Diffuse, infuse, lose, muse, cruise, refuse, use, bluz, and all the other sound endings with /uz/, alongside syllable with the sound /ou/, seem to resonate sweetly to my ears. Hence, the combination of the sound /uz/ and /oo/ in the letter string of a word are very pleasurable for me to hear, thus my likeness of the word ooze.

Have to say that I discovered this word late, for I was much more accustomed to the word ‘leak’, and when I came across this word for the first time in a health talk show, the resonance of it instantly fired up my neurons (yes, that’s how it feels for lovers of words). I don’t think that I’ve ever used ooze in any of my writings, simply because I prefer to hear it as it wonderfully flows as an aesthetic resonance till my mind.

And what about you? Are your ears sensible to the sound of words? Which are they?
Personal Narratives

When Words Hurt

Weaponization of what’s beautiful

When my mind is too much shaken, I go from 1 to 10,000 breaking loose, unable to concentrate properly on writing, for my mind is too busy imagining all kinds of murderous scenes (to use for stories, of course). That’s what happened to me on Wednesday, when I had the unpleasant surprise to find that on a simple YouTube comment I made, someone had the pretension to call me a THOT… exactly — “@eiravel stop being a THOT … there are allready (yes, the all in al) many out there,” and also, their comment was highlighted. Intrigued by the word THOT, Googled it immediately, and to my great disgust it meant :

noun: thot; plural noun: thots
a woman who has many casual sexual encounters or relationships.
early 21st century: apparently an acronym from that ho over there ; originally in the language of rap and hip-hop music.

A complete lack of respect towards me or any other girl/woman out there, a public embarrassment that’s hard to digest, something that doesn’t make me laugh at all.

The fact of using this word as to trespass the filter bed of swearwords, clearly shows that person’s level of sexism/misogynist want to cause the kind of trouble that is irreversible to the feminine clan.

Why irreversible? Because in those dangerous days where everyone lose their minds, going on killing people for the least of things; or where instead of finding comfort, human warmth, and a great deal of positivism on the internet, we are welcomed with the worst kinds of word shovel in one’s own face, well, believe me, with all the stress and frustration I might go through, I can tell you, if ever I could, I would.

To me it’s clearly an act of public bullying, psychological harassment, and slut shaming. These words they use to annihilate all your hopes, your self-confidence, your dignity, and everything else, manipulating words as to make you feel inferior, unlovable, where they make you feel as the one that is guilty… it’s a scar to the mind, something that makes you lose all hope in life and other people.

To remember, irresponsible people causes irreversible damages and death.

To me it’s very sad that there are no laws that condemn those acts committed from overseas, because in Mauritius, we have a law to combat online excesses, which makes it possible for any person to file a complaint and seek damages for a post, share, or like that cause or causes annoyance, humiliation, inconvenience, anxiety, or any kind of distress, where the perpetrator could end up being sentenced for 5-10 years of prison. Like that, people might think twice and thrice before committing such acts.
I will never forgive that person for having denigrated me in such ways in public… why should I be a hypocrite and make belief that this has not affected me badly. I always wonder how would the haters react if ever the same thing happened to their daughter, spouse, sister, or mother.

Remember, only a little spark suffice to start a gargantuesque fire. Words are meant to be beautiful, to soothe, to appease, to elevate. Words under no circumstances are to be used to attack, to bully, to harass, to ugly, to humiliate.

Message : compared to you that live a life of hate for others, I write poems, stories, and blog. I use the internet as a constructive tool; not as a product of hate.

Written by: THOT (Tough Hefty Overpowered Titan)

Personal Narratives

Beloved; Toni Morrison

A Little Anecdote

When I heard about the passing away of the author Toni Morrison, I knew that I had to blog about the particular instance that brought me to have knowledge of the author behind one of the most intriguing beautiful movies that I have ever watched about slavery. Thing is, I never knew that the movie Beloved was originally extracted from a book which was written by Toni Morrison — a book that received in 1988 the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, as well as the Robert F. Kennedy Memorial Book Award, the Melcher Book Award, the Lyndhurst Foundation Award, and the Elmer Holmes Bobst Award. Beloved was only adapted in a movie in 1998.

Five or six years later, or even two more years, I don’t really remember, I was watching the movie in the morning on the cable before going to work, and as a matter of fact, I had been able to watch only a quarter of that movie, whose intrigue and dark atmosphere had fascinated me so much, that it haunted me for almost 15 years of my life; and where it’s only through the internet—exactly on YouTube—that I finally had the chance to watch the movie in its entirety.

Beloved left such sweet taste to my mind, that I was left hungry for more, with certainties that I would be more than happy to read the book, as to find these hidden subconscious clues, which seem to be left unconsciously in between the words of the pages of those books, authored by some of these passionate writers.

Beloved is dark, phantomatic, filled with the invisible scars left to the mind, and of these torments endured that continues to haunt, and where one remains a slave to terror and fear… even after liberation. I love writers whose artworks stir my emotions, leaving me fulfilled and indulged inside some kind of an ephemeral momentum of epiphany; and have to say here that, Toni Morison has completely hooked my mind on her subliminal own interpretation of one the darkest era of the human condition.

Personal Narratives

– Embracing The Web Creative Culture –

It’s the digital revolution

The web has surely shaped the ways that people think, search, do business, create and make, entertain and express themselves, work, get employed, and as well as connecting with the world. It is a domain that is continuously evolving, and whose full power has not yet been unleashed. I do think that the web is a more expansive area than that of the telephone, radio and television, transports, and as important as electricity itself. If done well — with all the potential it has — that thing can surely become a titan awakened.
Thus, the online world is also a good place to go find that inspiration needed to put yourself into a creative state of mind. Whether you are into auditive, or either more into visual, we all are bound to find the aesthetic that stirs mind-creativity.
I don’t know, perhaps because my mechanic of thought works on an unconventional level, that is why I prefer to look at the positive side of the web, all the while trying to not focus on its negative aspects — which much more concern the acts of wicked and thoughtless human beings over anything else.
I persist in my views of seeing the web-space as the dreamland of tomorrow, a space within which, one is free to access and choose amongst all kinds of materials and tools designed to shape the elements of their dreams. Perhaps if these software developers had not designed these materials and tools, which is of great assistance to my writings, online exposition, graphics, inspirational flows, and I do hope, to my future lil’biz, I wouldn’t have that much flaunt the creative side of the web — where those that want to use it as a weapon of destruction and upheaval of anger now seem to belong to the chaotic dimension of the internet. As for me, I prefer to stick with minds that have at heart a better design for the web creative culture.
So, lets see the arguments that makes me envision the web as a digital creative sphere.

Music & rhythms are everywhere online
From my point of view, one of the greatest attributes of the online world is surely the possibility of finding and choosing from a vast variety of music, which, from an individualistic point of view, might trigger the necessary emotion from where surges the needed inspiration to get into the creative flow. There are even apps and software that permits you to make your own songs… isn’t that fantastic! Now everyone can easily make a demo and upload it online… just remember to assert your rights on your creation so that others don’t take the credit for your work, also make sure that the software or app that you are using is not selling the data of your creation to others… I guess that the biggest downside of the web-space is about the fact that you don’t know what kind of being works in the shadows… nor the employer either.
As for me, I’ve created a playlist on YouTube, worthy of listening to, in times where I can’t seem to will myself into a creative state of mind, and where listening to these genres of music, gives me the necessary vibes that instantly boost my creative intellect.
Blasts of visuals
Furthermore, with all these photo-sharing sites filled of endless aesthetic galleries of visual elements, as well as image search served in search engines, we are more than ever exposed to become the creatives of tomorrow; where arts are everywhere online and one needs only to hold on to the kind of art that triggers the slightest kind of emotion in them; coming back regularly to these feel-good-visuals.
Tools to create, within reachOf course, this one is the most obvious tip that the web is moving/already supporting the web creative culture. From Windows 10 creators update to Google Drive & photos, or even all of these other apps and softwares designing the right platforms for users to easily write codes, make graphics or stuff to share or even to sell, are more than ever shaping the digital space.

And what about your thoughts on that subject matter. Do you think that in a near future people will much more turn towards a creative lifestyle? Are the trends changing yet? 

Personal Narratives

– Project Gutenberg Is Perfect –

Free online library with panoplies of eBooks to feed all minds

Currently reading  ‘The Hand Of Fu-Manchu, by Sax Rohmer, dowloaded from Project Gutenberg.

Note: I’ve juxtaposed Haikus about the abstract emotion felt when reading in between paragraphs. Consider this action as some sort of personal writing experiment — as to chase away the boredom of writing serious matters, knowingly that I have difficulties writing that which is non-fiction; deemed too demanding for my evasive mind.

To the opening
Of minds

Did you know that the 1st of January is ‘Public Domain Day’ — well, I didn’t knew that either, not until recently, while reading online an article about this particular celebration.

When I read
The words feed
My mind — escapism

It happens that literary works (and other arts as well) whose copyrights have expired (on the U.S territory), enter the ‘Public Domain’ registry, and is fully made available — without any restriction — to the grand public.

The wind
Swiftly dance…
In stories

You can read more about this celebration day from an article found on Wikipedia.

Wrapped in words
We are stories
Fed to papers

Thus, this day is the perfect occasion to rush to Project Gutenberg’s site, to find out about the free eBooks made public.

A speck of stardust
Left on the book-cover…
Was the writer sober?

What’s interesting with this digital library, is the fact that it has more than 58,000 free awesome eBooks, ready for downloads, and made available into almost all digital formats.

To read
Is mending
Hearts + soul

As for me, I download these eBooks directly on Google Play Book, as to get a good reading experience.

Read afresh
Read anew
Read for you –
Mash potatoes
Fell on the book

Thus, even if you can’t afford to buy any particular eReader, you can simply read free eBooks of your choice right from your computer and mobile device.

Intellect –
Reading –
The words
Sits into my mind –

Intellectual and cultural expansion have never been that much accessible to a wider public, yet, we can’t seem to find any articles that mention these interesting sites, those — which from my own opinion — would have opened further the dimension of our thoughts.

Read and heartbeat rhymes
Like feed and read
And seed and deed

Furthermore, the otherwise able or any other people that can’t easily move from their home, can take advantage of having the freedom to choose by themselves, from the vast library of eBooks ready for downloads.

How shall I escape –
Fiction, I shouted

That’s all folks, if ever you know other sites same as Project Gutenberg, don’t hesitate to share your knowledge in the comment below.

Personal Narratives

Why I Created This Blog

A deeper understanding of the act

I wish I knew what I was doing, right from the beginning I started this online adventure – but it was not the case. I wish I knew right from the start which websites were best for me to start creating a genuine network, but it was not the case. I wish I learnt more about my computer device and the internet, but still, it was also not the case, and again, I wish that I was already a skillful writer, but it was not the case. I wish to have properly understood right away any technical or web terminologies relevant to my online activities, but I had to constantly go through the lot, over and over again.

However, though wishful magical sprinkles were completely unavailable, solid rock determination was there all the way. I am not saying that I have pierced through the guarded secrets of the World Wide Web (perhaps the web is like all of those secret societies🤣), but instead, I learnt through hard ways – as if there were Gremlins (new-wave of mischievous spirits that are interested in radio-air waves, and who can infiltrate all types of technologies, causing problems with electrical transmission of all sorts) that lived inside of my Internet devices . . . who knows, my fictional flair tends to carry me on oceans disguised as space.

*Note that this paragraph is something quite fictional – or not!

So let’s get back to the point; concerning why I decided to create this blog, which is all about genuinely bragging about my self-taught online experiences — things, which were often, and still are, quite challenging, tiring, and as well alienating. But after the rain comes the sunshine… is it not what the optimist always says! And though I learnt the hard way to prevent myself from doing the same dumb mistakes over and over again, I am happy that I have been able to come that far.

Though not at all an accomplished technophile, I am proud to have somehow been able to gain clearer insights on what needs to be achieved online, so as for me to publicise freely my own books, products, and writing skills. Isn’t it what any wanna-be-entrepreneur needs for a start; an all set-up space intended to showcase skills and visually exhibit products through virtual storefronts? Therefore, I post my writings online, for people to get broader insights about my creative and writing aesthetic. I open the horizon of my mind, as to enable people to get a sneak-peek of my writing and creative skills. Like that, it is a good start for me to publicise freely my poems and stories, which is a completely normal process of personal branding for future sales.

When you are an autodidact that is doing it all in solo, clear insights about what you are achieving on a daily basis is the key solution to not get overwhelmed by the process, while also being important for boosting up self-confidence. In an ever-changing trends and tastes amongst the world-wide population, and as well as the many content published online, I hope to get notice for my personal creative style.

To conclude; I blog much more for the fun part of it, knowingly that my writings might perhaps inspire, or even give answers to someone, somewhere, at another time, and in another year, or perhaps in another dimension (who knows, anything is possible). And as always, I know that the rest shall follow.

And as for you, dear reader, why did you created your blog?