Month: September 2012

Words describe the problem…my words

There really is no remedy to this problem other than to keep writing, I have come to realize.
Hard as it is, mediocre pieces are inevitable, and they are my worst enemy, but who says brilliance can’t spring forth from within those drab lines.
So soon, I have become lost and immersed in my own insecurity, it is pitiful I know, and I’m sure I have gone through this treatment before, so after this paragraph it ends.

I remember coming across my first Frank Herbert novel, well, I found out about the Dune series while watching the Hallmark Channel. It was a different world all entirely and thinking that the images had been adapted from words written by someone intrigued me. So my search began, several bookshops and roadside fire sales bore the marks of my somewhat ‘mellow’ desperate search, it was rewarding nonetheless as I came across other works of fiction that have come to shape my internal voice, the one which speaks when I put pen to paper or tap at the keyboard.
Herbert’s world is flawless in its extremities in a way that is hard to describe, words in print create a never imagined world of fish speakers and sand trout, yet Herbert has imagined them to a near perfection that is glorious to behold.
Moral dilemmas have been created that are unique to this world and eventually, you as a reader come to empathize with the varying predicaments characters are faced with. It is not a matter of being caught up in the ‘details’, rather you read through descriptions that seem almost as if Herbert himself has been and lived amongst these very otherworldly beings.

Frank Herbert

What I’ve just described above is the sort of work I aspire to create.
What my mind seeks to find.

Imagination is a beautiful thing, being able to harness it and make it work for you can bring indescribable joy(I know this).

Maybe I’ll simply show you guys what I’m trying to say.

later folks.


Return to the Old City

Its a few minutes past my closing hours on a Monday and the only thing still keeping me at my desk is the remnant adrenalin from an energy filled Monday morning.
Its still the lost writing Mojo story (still haven’t found it), wish it was as easy as saying “my dog ate my homework”. Excuses. Excuses….

The Old City

Relocating has probably been complicit in my mental block but I’m sure there’s a larger part I haven’t completely figured out yet.
Friends have done their best in making it feel a bit like home but it sure isn’t. Not to seem ungrateful but I feel alien despite the many familiar faces.
The Old city has changed, its a bustling animal that never fails to entertain, the context ‘dull’ partially becoming wild imagination.

It’ll only take a while I’m sure, the hustle and bustle, the traffic and the smug. The Old City has obviously moved on without me (as expected) and its left for me to play catch-up.

Now I’m a student in the old City, enthusiastic about learning its many lives as well as its literature, things I’m sure will help me in my continuous growth. Hopefully I’ll share a few stories here, stories that might stand out as markers to how I’m faring, adapting and living.

As for you guys (readers & friends), don’t fail to be my sounding board, up till now you all have been wonderful.

Till I write you all again,