Dreams and memories

I found myself wandering, but without destination.
No idea of where I was, but I was absolutely certain of the truth.
And then, there she was.
She came to me, and I accepted her I to my embrace.

"I miss you." she said quietly.
"I know." I replied.
"But I'm happy to be away from you."
"I know." I said again.
"Please don't ever leave me." she cried into my chest.
"I'll never leave you."

And then I was awake from my dream, and since that night I have not drempt of her.

Dream well, Krisalyn.

If you don't read it, then it never happened.

So why do I write?
All these scrawlings that if not here, would most certainly be on the walls if not lost to papers in books, never to be seen in the light of day. I'm clearly not in it for money,  I have yet to submit any of this delusional grandeur of mine to even be reviewed.

I have also watched the faces of people as they read what I write, and of what I have to say.

Watching the gears begin to turn as ideas and images are constructed and examined, to having my choice of words torn apart.
That is something I do enjoy.

But even that is not the reason why.
Some of my work I will admit is to garner opinions from terribly specific people. And everything else. Is for my own selfish reasons. I create because o enjoy creating. Bearing my soul unto a project and making it mine. If anyone else enjoys it, please by all means. Knock yourself out.

But this is for me. I cannot communicate myself as elegantly as I desire. I fail to stop and consider the world around me and simply go with the flow of mine hearts desire.
This has not always been within my favor.
Worse still. I am finding with age that I grow more frequently tied between my thoughts and actually voicing them.

But this is freedom here. On this wall I can bring to fruit the thoughts I cannot elsewise create or share.
Sometimes it is a cage of my own design. Others it's just the wind beneath my wings.

The why is simpler than all this textual diarrhea though.

It's simply because it's what I can do.
I don't need to be the best. But I get to be me.

Where else in the world does one get the same kind of freedom?

Oh people.

People are, without any doubt, one of the most amazing things we will encounter in our lives. They are easily, also the most terrible. The people I have met have shaped my world. Both in ways that I can look back on and appreciate, and also in many ways I can look back on and understand that there was something to be learned. I am not like many people, and I am sure there are many that are not so different. It is everything that shapes us into the individuals that we are, from the people we interact with to the environment that surrounds us. Always changing, from this day to the next. People are hardly static.

Though I am sure there are arguments against such a claim, I will not believe them. The world we live in, is essentially just a rock hurtling though space at amazing velocities. But on this rock, for each and every single one of us, is our own world. I can only see the world through my senses, and mine alone. The things I experience will not be the same for anyone else. No matter how close our lives are.

It's an interesting concept to me. I have always wondered if the blue I see, is actually the blue another sees. And I don't mean in reference to color blindness or even blindness in any sense. Simply that, the things I am exposed to, how can I ever truly convey my world that it will be understood fully. There are certainly things about other people I will not understand. And I am not talking about women in general. That's a different bag of cookies altogether. But on the same tone, men are hardly any different. There is however, a common reason for it.

Again, The worlds we live in. The world we need not share with anyone, should we choose it. These are the worlds where things are in fact, important. And other things are not even worth the time to think about. So as a result, we have individual wants, and needs. These are our hopes and dreams, our nightmares and horrors. The things we will defend with our lives and the things we will fight to have. The zealots and the passive, we are the people of the world, and this is the rock we exist on.

I understand and accept, that there will always be things that I cannot accept, or understand. That my world is not -the- world, but it will always be mine. I am the protagonist of this story, and everyone else is a supporting character. But not you, You are the protagonist and I am but a supporting character. All of these interconnected lives, on the same path towards the tomorrow we will all live differently. There is no wrong way to do so, but there is also no right way.

We will judge, and we will hate others for their choices, go out of our way to crush the hopes and dreams of people we do not even know. We will also stop and help those that need it. Bring them up from the dirt and dust them off, and send them back into the world standing tall. We are amazing, and we are terrible.

And here I am, passing words off as poetry. But what do you see in the words I wonder?

Creativity and writers block.

   All across this vast world we are creating for ourselves. Where content is produced by people, most often in webcomics or blogs, writers block is mentioned at least once. An inescapable wall surrounding the creativity we know is there to be had but otherwise unavailable. I am at least able to write at my own leisure both to my own detriment and my own boon. While I don't have to answer to anyone or any deadlines for work done, I also have no such paycheck resulting from what I create to sustain my life. Writers block isn't an enemy I have, or at least, It is not one I yet have. But I am sure one day I'll face off with it. Though that is not a terribly true statement to make.

  Untill somewhat recently, I had not created anything worth sharing, let alone created anything to share. Years even, of a creative void. I suppose I had no reason to be creating, which in itself is a false statement. I will always have a reason to create. I live, I can, and I have within my grasp the tools to create an entire world around me, should I put the effort into the work. The imagination has, as long as you let it, no real boundries but the ones have built around it. While some things should never be crossed, other things should have more attention than received. And so one should venture out into the vastness of the worlds we can create, share them with those who would take part, and arrive at the end of ones journey feeling more. More what... is up to the reader to decide.

   The world that I create, cannot always be the one that a reader will implant themselves. It should be the writers goal to share the world and all of its intricacies with the reader, but it is often easy to get lost between the world of ones own and the world of anothers. Details may forever remain privy to the creator who is sharing the world with another, and have every intention to share it with the reader of ones work, but either for manipulator purposes or even simply forgetting, leave out details.  It is the readers privaledge to do with all given information what he will, but with even some small details missing, can go into an entirely different world than what the writer has imagined.  I cannot see this as a bad thing, we all see the world differently already. The world that I live in every day is the same world that everyone else exists. But it is also mine alone, to be shared with whom I chose.

  And sharing a world with another is always fraught with difficulties. Different lives lived causes us to be as uniquely similar as we will be different. We could take in the exact same information about any object and come to a different conclusion of its worth based on even preference alone. It's this chaotic meshing of worlds that colors the gray. Conversation builds upon the differences and the similarities. This is a driving force for people to talk about their experiences. We cannot live everything do it all. But we can always share what we have done or experienced with others, even if its just a world drawn up in the mind of the another.

   The world will grow, and expand. With every soul added to the circle within a world exists, more color is added to the pool. Perhaps not all of it is entirely desired to be there. But without something to create contrast as world will grow stale and die out.  It is the people that drive creativity, even if they do not know it. For why create, to only enjoy the creation yourself?

  Why build the tower Babel only to sit upon its apex alone. Witness the world below, and share in its marvels with all you would come across. Share its glory with others, that they would be inspired to climb to the top and see it for themself.

  I create for myself. I create to share with those that would enjoy to experience the world that I see. I cannot promise that my world will always be inviting or that it will be hostile. It will be what it is.

  Creativity is a hard thing to describe while writers block seems entirely more solid, both in its name and the feeling the words impose upon its meaning. But in its essence, creativity is and can be anything. Writers block, is forever a block, static in its existance.

  So make your choice. Move it. Carve your way through. Build a path over or dig under it. Creativity will provide the tools if you call upon it. Writers block, can only stop you if you let it.

And if you have actually read this poorly structured wall of text, congratulations on sticking in there with my meandering thoughts. And untill next time.

Build em taller.

A beggining

   It was promised that tonight I would finaly get this thing underway, and so here it is in all of its glory or its shame. Hilariously in need of redecorating that will come in time as I grow more familiar with the blogger setup. But for now, It will do.

   We're all builders. Building lives, homes, works of art, stories and even dreams. Building may not always be the word used to describe what we do, but in a way, everything is built up. So here on, there is as it stands today, one promise I will maintain with this blog. At least once a month, I will post a poem of my own creation, though I will probably label them with Wordsmithing. I may also chronicle the adventures and misadventures of my life, including the random trips into games played at the time, or even the reconstruction of frankencar, as the American has called her. These will probably land under Rants. But today we end with the first step. The first of many, but every journey starts with a single step. Find your star to follow, and never stop.

P.S. I typo a lot. It's a terrible shame. But that's life.