reading "for one more day"... It's an easy read. Easy to relate to. The author writes in simplistic terms, still with the ability to make you think.
I've been finding my writing style. Usually when I write poems I convey an emotion in less words, but strong words... Without giving up the emotion too easily it makes the reader think. I like to do that.
But I think it is a true art form to express in simplistic terms just to get a point across... Some writers are so good that's all they need. i.e. Charles Buckowsky. I want to be a great writer one day. I want it to look seamless and effortless.
I think everyone is a writer in their own right. It's just about getting the silent conversations with yourself out onto paper. Life is about relating. That is a big part of why I write.
I find I am my happiest when I am reading, writing and listening to music. I've been listening to Belle and Sebastian a lot lately.
There was a point in time I was hesitant about being by myself. Some may have even called it neediness. I hated that expression, but to be honest with myself I was very needy. When I finally occupied myself with the things I loved I began to place high value on the time spent in my room with my music and books being... well... by myself.
I like myself better for it. I feel talking is over rated. When there isn't anything to say, there is no point in talking. Some may find this odd coming from me, because I've been known to talk a lot, but honestly I am pretty quiet. Take away the hustle of a place, take away appearance and position, and you just have me. Why talk unless you can improve the silence?
My oldest friend had visitors from out of state. They were staying in a cheap motel next to hooters and the 405 freeway. She asked me to meet up at their motel. So I did.
With the door open smoking like they wanted cancer I entered the room. There was two of them. Brothers. One loud and social. Probably more comfortable to be around for some people. This was the one my friend liked. The other quiet and a little odd, sort of even made you feel uncomfortable.
I am an observer. Even if it may seem like I talk a lot sometimes, there is a lot more going on in my head that just doesn't come out.
Anyway, I observed the one with the louder personality, I listened to his stories and watched how everyone else in the room was so impressed with his demeanor. This was good for his ego, because this is exactly what he wanted to do... impress people, get reactions.
Every once in a while his uncomfortably quiet brother would say something. I can't remember now the things he said, but every time he would speak it was something great and witty. Not because he was trying to be great or witty, but because he just was.
He was the overlooked type. I love those types because usually they quiet ones have the most to say... To me it isn't the quantity that comes out of the mouth, but more so the quality of what is said.
I like people best when they get quiet with life. Seems they find ways to improve the silence not add to the chaos.
I've been finding my writing style. Usually when I write poems I convey an emotion in less words, but strong words... Without giving up the emotion too easily it makes the reader think. I like to do that.
But I think it is a true art form to express in simplistic terms just to get a point across... Some writers are so good that's all they need. i.e. Charles Buckowsky. I want to be a great writer one day. I want it to look seamless and effortless.
I think everyone is a writer in their own right. It's just about getting the silent conversations with yourself out onto paper. Life is about relating. That is a big part of why I write.
I find I am my happiest when I am reading, writing and listening to music. I've been listening to Belle and Sebastian a lot lately.
There was a point in time I was hesitant about being by myself. Some may have even called it neediness. I hated that expression, but to be honest with myself I was very needy. When I finally occupied myself with the things I loved I began to place high value on the time spent in my room with my music and books being... well... by myself.
I like myself better for it. I feel talking is over rated. When there isn't anything to say, there is no point in talking. Some may find this odd coming from me, because I've been known to talk a lot, but honestly I am pretty quiet. Take away the hustle of a place, take away appearance and position, and you just have me. Why talk unless you can improve the silence?
My oldest friend had visitors from out of state. They were staying in a cheap motel next to hooters and the 405 freeway. She asked me to meet up at their motel. So I did.
With the door open smoking like they wanted cancer I entered the room. There was two of them. Brothers. One loud and social. Probably more comfortable to be around for some people. This was the one my friend liked. The other quiet and a little odd, sort of even made you feel uncomfortable.
I am an observer. Even if it may seem like I talk a lot sometimes, there is a lot more going on in my head that just doesn't come out.
Anyway, I observed the one with the louder personality, I listened to his stories and watched how everyone else in the room was so impressed with his demeanor. This was good for his ego, because this is exactly what he wanted to do... impress people, get reactions.
Every once in a while his uncomfortably quiet brother would say something. I can't remember now the things he said, but every time he would speak it was something great and witty. Not because he was trying to be great or witty, but because he just was.
He was the overlooked type. I love those types because usually they quiet ones have the most to say... To me it isn't the quantity that comes out of the mouth, but more so the quality of what is said.
I like people best when they get quiet with life. Seems they find ways to improve the silence not add to the chaos.
No comments:
Post a Comment