..This and That

I don't really practice much in the way of creative writing. I enjoy reading it; here's to a change of quills.

I've always felt safer with logic or reasoning. The lashing of any critique on my expression leaves me feeling raw and shaken.

When I write I feel like the scarecrow strung up high above the field. Yet as high as I am above the dirt, I still stare compelled with my bent and weak neck. I avoid looking at the eyes in the sky, I avoid seeing where my emotions rise. I feel alone in that field and I worry that the craven ravens will pick at me silently.

No, it is a lot easier for me to write of fanciful things. Dreamy and wondrous theories of 'what could have been,' 'how would it be,' and 'how it may be.' It's easier to discuss the worlds fairy tales and urban thoughts. I'd rather bask in the harvest moon, bask in the reaping of others - without suffering my sow.

It's easier to watch the world unfold than to fold that world into my grasp.

Maybe I fold my hand by not placing my bets. Playing it safe has left me out of the game. I don't presume I can express the world better on a folded parchment when all around me life is unbearably beautiful. It's beautiful, like the awkward twists of an arthritic wrist. The grief at a funeral is symphonic - but the dread and suffering is the harmonic.

No, much easier to pretend I don't see these things and not write about them. It's beautiful and I feel like I bludgeon shapes into the world with my words. I feel true artists take their strings of thought and play cat's cradle. I feel I sometimes pull too hard and thus strangle the image from its original purpose. The expression of me is 'lost in translation.'

I find this somehow amusing - as my screen name, idiom; has stuck with me for a long while. It is of course a culturally intrinsic expression which loses it's meaning across cultures. I feel that I have an expression which is intrinsic to me; and disturbingly alien to the world around me.

I adore everything around me - from dust that piles up, to the obvious charm in color. I find it unbearably breathtaking when you combine the 'ugly' with the 'mainstream beauty'. It's gritty.

My mind wanders without goals - I tend to spit what comes first.