I want to write..
Anne Rice, i love how she writes. I wish i could write like her. Each sentence is beautifully fashioned, thought provoking, lyrical, romantic. Her writing is infinitely exquisite.
I love drawing conclusions. I could be watching a flower bobbing in the wind and want to draw something out of it. I could catch a subtle expression or a fleeting glance and subconsciously all my attention would be invested in registering immediately what it means and why. I love figuring out feelings, emotions, thoughts.. people.. Or connecting meaning to seemingly structured, routine things that we do. Constant requestioning- reevaluating of norms, those routines that make us numb to what a complete revolution it actually is to come to where we are right now. A second nature.
I want to write. Nothing gives more pleasure than to write; express though not necessarily explain. The problem with explanation is that you lose the magic of curiosity, the exhilaration of coming to a conclusion and then the value you attach to that final concluded meaning, so no.. i don’t like reading explanations as such as i like implications towards one. writers like Khalil Gibran. I am in love with him, his mind. The curious labyrinth of thoughts he seemed perpetually lost in. I love him for that. For being a lost soul trying to make sense of all that surrounds him.
So yes i want to write. I want to express. Something i do a lot as it is but that’s just journals i code words and thoughts and names and feelings and emotions in so that even if one is caught, it will confuse the hell out of whoever tries to make sense of it.
But real writing.. real awe inspiring writing. One that moves me, one that captures emotions and captures them beautifully.. that is what i want to do more than anything.. but then sometimes the words i am looking for don’t come to me or when they do then in their form and structure the very feeling is lost. That, and there is nothing i can think of to write on. Well actually, there’s nothing and then there is all the things in the world. Anyone can probably write on anything under the sun, i think. anything that touches our lives, or feelings or thoughts. But a writing that carries feelings.. that is not only thought provoking but is vibrant with the sheer sincerity of the writer. that communicates across the utter belief in his/her own words, writings that have captured the feelings of those who wrote them, while they wrote them.. almost sacred those, and those are the ones i want to be able to do..
I love drawing conclusions. I could be watching a flower bobbing in the wind and want to draw something out of it. I could catch a subtle expression or a fleeting glance and subconsciously all my attention would be invested in registering immediately what it means and why. I love figuring out feelings, emotions, thoughts.. people.. Or connecting meaning to seemingly structured, routine things that we do. Constant requestioning- reevaluating of norms, those routines that make us numb to what a complete revolution it actually is to come to where we are right now. A second nature.
I want to write. Nothing gives more pleasure than to write; express though not necessarily explain. The problem with explanation is that you lose the magic of curiosity, the exhilaration of coming to a conclusion and then the value you attach to that final concluded meaning, so no.. i don’t like reading explanations as such as i like implications towards one. writers like Khalil Gibran. I am in love with him, his mind. The curious labyrinth of thoughts he seemed perpetually lost in. I love him for that. For being a lost soul trying to make sense of all that surrounds him.
So yes i want to write. I want to express. Something i do a lot as it is but that’s just journals i code words and thoughts and names and feelings and emotions in so that even if one is caught, it will confuse the hell out of whoever tries to make sense of it.
But real writing.. real awe inspiring writing. One that moves me, one that captures emotions and captures them beautifully.. that is what i want to do more than anything.. but then sometimes the words i am looking for don’t come to me or when they do then in their form and structure the very feeling is lost. That, and there is nothing i can think of to write on. Well actually, there’s nothing and then there is all the things in the world. Anyone can probably write on anything under the sun, i think. anything that touches our lives, or feelings or thoughts. But a writing that carries feelings.. that is not only thought provoking but is vibrant with the sheer sincerity of the writer. that communicates across the utter belief in his/her own words, writings that have captured the feelings of those who wrote them, while they wrote them.. almost sacred those, and those are the ones i want to be able to do..

4 Comments:
Albert Einstein
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.
Nothing gives more pleasure than to write; express though not necessarily explain.
:)
and explanation kills the mystery!
Talha dumde i read your testis :D sneaky huh? :) i read mahwashs and madihas tooblue! sneaky sneaky!
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Post a Comment
<< Home