Strangers

(Writers Island prompt of wk 7)

Every once in a while, someone, or something, you've know for a long, long time, happens to be, say, do, behave, act or react completely different than what you expected. A certain situation which could have been common, turns out feeling strange. And close friends, whom you thought you knew so well, may come across as complete strangers.

Sometimes, for some of us, it happens to be your own person who is surprising you with unpredicted thoughts or emotions. Those moments can be some of the most frightening ones in life. But no matter how much fear they cause, don't try to turn your back on them and try to run or hide. These moments are a sign, even an alarming signal sometimes, that there's something wrong, and you've got to stop, think about and listen to what these strange feelings are trying to say.

Strange emotions may end up feeling familiar when you open yourself and think about it. A stranger may end up being the best friend you've ever had. Or even the most beautiful love of your life....

J

So lets get down to it baby
There ain't no need to lie

Tell me who you think you see
When you look into my eyes

Lets put our two hearts back together
And we'll leave the broken pieces on the floor
Make love with me baby
Till we ain't strangers anymore

The Key

~ prompt of Writers Island - wk3 ~

Several reasons for why it took me ages before I completed my post for WI prompt this week:

• whilst on my swing of moods, I seem to get stuck every time I passed the "down"-bit. As I am still in the middle of the process of figuring out the do's and don'ts of Me, Myself and I, it wasn't a surprise, but falling can be painful...
• I am trying to be more aware of not only myself, but also people, around me and general. It's a rewarding 'investment', but also a confronting and energy consuming one.
• work, of course.
• and I've got a bit of a flue (which is probably also related to the first reason mentioned)

All in all, thinking about what I wanted to write regarding the words "The Key", set me off and (oh how I "love/hate" my hyper focus now and again...) I found I had far too much to write about.

The key; it links to so many things in life. The key to your heart, your soul, the door, happiness, the truth, and so on. And every single example needs more than a few lines written about it.

I panicked. Missing out on this week's prompt wasn't an option. If I had nothing to tell, if it was a subject which means nothing to me, I would have been OK with skipping. But no, I had so many thoughts and triggers that I couldn't ignore them.

Then, I stumbled upon this amazing project: 6 billion Others

I read, listened and watched all of the whole site. It is one of the best things I have come across on the Internet. Ever. I got enormously impressed by the person who's behind this idea: Yann Arthus-Bertrand.

And, I realised that this is it. This is The Key. In fact, I would call it the Master Key.
For it will open all of our hearts, souls and doors, and happiness and truth will be there for all of us.

Achieving this Utopia seems so unrealistic and ridiculous. The lock that is blocking us all from getting there, seems impossible to open. But at least, someone tries and you've got to admire him for that.

He opened the door to my heart anyway...

J

The Gift

"Love is a gift.
You can't buy it, you can't find it, someone has to give it to you.
Learn to be receptive of that gift.”
(Kurt Langner)

~ prompt of Writers Island - wk2 ~

Yesterday I read a column of a Dutch psychiatrist who, in quite a straight forward way, pointed out that many people (if not most of them) tend to take Love for granted. As a result of that, chances are that one day you'll find yourself in a situation where you have lost that love and you're begging for it to come back. When you look back, you can wonder why you didn't see it before: you were not aware of the importance for being grateful for the love that was given to you.

Without going into detail regarding that article, and even though it was written in a confronting tone, he had a point there. We should be more grateful for what is given to us, even when it is there every day again. Actually, I would say, because it is there every day again....

When I saw this week's prompt of Writers Island, my mind went straight back to that column and somehow, I immediately linked it to James Morrisons latest song, "Undiscovered".

Be grateful for the greatest gift of all: Love. And if you feel you haven't received it yet, take a look around. It's not lost, just undiscovered....

I'm not running, I'm not hiding
But if you dig a little deeper, you will find me

I'm not lost, not lost, undiscovered
And when we're alone we are all the same as each other

J

My Imaginary Life

A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain
Softly blows o'er lullaby bay.
It fills the sails of boats that are waiting-
-Waiting to sail your worries away.

It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain
And your boat waits down by the key.
The winds of night so softly are sighing-
-Soon they will fly your troubles to sea.
So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain.
Wave good-bye to cares of the day.
And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain
Sail far away from lullaby bay.



When thinking about My Imaginary Life ...

(which is the first prompt of this new site, launched today, made by and for writers: Writers Island. One of the persons who started it up, is Rob Kistner, someone I got to know via blogging/writing and admire a lot! Not only for his writing, but as a person as well).

Words that connect are so eager to be written down, to be said out loud, but given the fact that I do not have the amount of time to give all these words a chance, I use the words of Einstein. I couldn't have said it better anyway...

(and if anyone wants to imagine how my imagination works, just close your eyes and listen to the song above...)


Imagination
is more important than knowledge.
For knowledge is limited, whereas
imagination embraces the entire world,
stimulating progress, giving birth to evolution.

J

Writing

(Sunday Scribblings)

Sometimes, when I speak, people don't seem to understand what I say.
Sometimes, when I look, they don't see what I observe.
Sometimes, when I think, people have no clue what's on my mind.
And sometimes, when I cry, they don't know what it's all about....

What can one do to be heard? To be seen, to be understood? To be comforted?

I cannot expect people to know me. For it is difficult enough to know 'me' myself.

But sometimes, it makes you feel so alone. All by myself....

and that's the reason I write.
Because then, I can speak, look, think and cry as if I am not alone out there...

J

Tell Me What We're Gonna Do Now

Not that I am complaining... :)
but having worked nearly every day for the last few weeks, I say:
* it's fun, but tiring
* makes time fly
* is no good for a blogger...

Add it up with the fact that I moved again (this time hopefully for a bit of a longer period then last), plus the usual daily stuff which unfortunately has to be done, it's not really surprising that there wasn't much left for writing....

But, as I said, I am not complaining.... it's just that my brain seems not to function that well, making it kind of hard to decide what to do in my spare free time, so...

(here's to Joss),

Tell me what we're gonna do now....

Dear Diary, I want to be Forever Young

(Sunday Scribblings)

When I was young, I kept a diary. I think I was roughly at the age of 14, 15 when I started writing in it. I remember very well what my first diary looked like: a little but thick book, of which the outside was covered with Chinese silk, mainly red with a green and black pattern. Unlike most diaries, it had no lock. And that's what, in the end, caused its death.

I used to poor out my heart in that way. Being a teenager, and a girl (which makes a difference generally, as girls at that age can be quite over the top with their emotions), I thought writing about my life would help, expecting a huge change soon to come. Why was that? And what was I expecting to change?

Looking back, I so much more understand why I kept the diary, why I mainly wrote about boys, boys & boys and how disappointed I quite often was. At first it may sound silly. A diary is supposed to be secret, if only a little, right? It's yours and yours only and for no one to be read apart from you. And if the hypothesis is that writing it is going to help you sort your (love-)life out (or at least create a clearer view on it), it is a very good thing to do. But somehow, I wrote my diary with a sort of weird hope that others would read it, and of course would act on it and then, everything was going to be alright....

Childish behaviour, but then, I still was one. Nowadays, I know what I was hoping to achieve wasn't silly, but the way how, I got it all wrong. You write a diary for yourself. And if you are honest and true, you get a pretty good look at yourself. And if parts of that don't make you happy, or pleased, or whatever, you can maybe track back the if's, why's and how's so you learn from your mistakes, miscalculations, misunderstandings...

But you can never expect someone else to be responsible for your downsides, bad habits, weak points or ignorance. Even when you think they caused it, it is still you who is able to stop or change it; and if you can't you'll have to work on your emotional response and act on it, or (depending on the matter) don't act on it.

The last half year or so, I have been more and more convinced that this is the path to follow on your way to happiness. To love and be loved. Maybe it was coincidental that I started to write this blog? Isn't a blog quite often an adult version of a child's diary? Again, this "diary" is written with the hope others read it. But now, I do not have the expectation that someone else will act on it and "clear up the mess I've made". Now, I want to do that myself.

It's just that sometimes I wish I was that child again. And that somebody would have shared this knowledge with me so I would have had a complete different diary. One I would have kept, so I could read it again when I would be older. Then, afterwards I would close it and start a new diary.

The opening words?

Dear Diary, I want to be forever young….

J

Goosebumps

(Sunday Scribbling)
Does my skin respond in a exaggerated way sometimes? Although I mostly don't mind, I think it does. It depends, of course, on several matters. But the main trigger is who's touching it...

After that it will be the atmosphere around "us". Preferably not too much light, nearly dark if possible but a slight glisting of a few candles would be nice. Temperature not too high, if it's a little cold it's ok, my body will adjust easily anyway.

And then there's the finishing touch... background music. Loud enough to cover all the unneccassary sounds, apart from "our" whispers that is. It will surround "us" like it was specially made for the moment.

These experiences are treasures in my heart. I cherish them. Play that specific song for me and I'll close my eyes and voila, it is there again. You, me, the moment. And I am suddenly aware that raised skin is all over my body, making me shiver.


That to me, my friend, is the perfect explanation in the case of "me with goose bumps"...

(Hey, do you remember, one of the first times?)

J

Wicked Game

(Sunday scribblings)

What a wicked game you play
To make me feel this way


Wicked.... one of these words of which the meaning can be different, depending on moods, situations, feelings. It can be positive or negative. Good or bad. Weird or normal. Strange or familiar.

If in your life, there's a connection between Wicked and Love, you've got to remember Chris Isaak's expression of games (wicked) people can play....

J

Hair - Sunday's Scribblings

Probably the most vunerable part of how I feel about the way I look. Forget nice clothes, cool boots, beautiful make-up: your hair determines your looks. Seriously, I'd rather walk down the street naked but with the knowledge my hair's ok then the other way around...

Don't know about the "walking around naked" - bit, but most people will agree: your hair is special, typically yours. Which reminds me....

J

Slippery

You ever have that feeling? That time is slipping away?

Quite often I think time is slipping away; generally, life goes its own way, mine always seems to be in the fast lane anyway. But time spent behind the PC goes even faster, don't you think? Before you know it, cyber-time-slipping slapped you in the face and yet again, you realise the day has progressed quicker than you wanted it to.

During one of these cyber-time-slipping moments I stumbled upon this site,
Sunday Scribblings; what a great idea they offer (check it out for yourself, if you want). So here's my scribbling about the topic of this week.... Slippery....

And when I was thinking about this subject, Talking Heads came up in my mind. Slippery People, remember? And as I am always looking for "the story behind...." I found a very good explanation on this site (of which a short quote, but you can read the rest of it via the link):

It’s a song about severe psychological disorder…it’s a song about a man who has difficulty feeling comfortable in even the most typical daily situations, but so what? Many Talking Heads songs fit that description…
-
The song opens as he taunts himself…as his mind reminds him of a hazy failure past…Fallin’ on your face? You must be havin’ fun…, and then it segues directly into a tense plea for self-control…Walk lightly indeed. He’s considering taking some sort of action…against himself? Against somebody else? Someone specific? The next person who starts a conversation he can’t finish? Put away that gun, he says, bargaining for control over himself…This part is simple.

The man can’t even take a bath without being tormented by personal demons and the fear that he will one day drift so far from reality that nobody will be able to reach him…Cool down…stop acting crazy…they’re gonna’ leave…and we’ll be on our own…

If you’re not careful, he might even convince you he’s alright, that the Lord don’t mind, and those slippery people will be more than happy to see you through.

Well, there's not much more to add here, right? Enough talking about it, enjoy the musical scribbling...

J

Attention, attention!

About 40 min's ago or so, I signed in to my blog account to write a new post. Usually, before I get to that, I check out some of my fav sites/blogs (see list of them somewhere in the sidebar).

This time, I didn't get far. I got stuck at Flea's blog and that was it. And, like I said, it's 40 min's (or so) later. Now I am a bit of a Flea-fan (huge actually, but I don't want to give any of you the impression that I'm getting a bonus out of this or something), which means:

• I check her blog very often,
  
• which also means that when there's a new post, it doesn't normally take 40 min's (or so) to read it (unless she's doing her "months of email-catching up"-round).
• none of that this time, her post was somewhat of a confession...
• and that means: good news!
  

Apparently a few members of our beloved blogging society have had a baby! The delivery went very well and the name of this newborn is

~ OFFSPRUNG ~

Check it out, isn't it a beauty?

J

Introducing DW (and his part in my context creating)

The skill of writing is to create a context in which other people can think.
--Edwin Schlossberg--

Since I can remember, I've had this affection for writing. As a child I used to love putting things on paper and then watch to see what people thought about it (me). When they liked it, I felt great. Which is a good thing, if the written paper represents yourself, whenever it's a made up story or not. It motivates you to learn to create your own context.

But in my case, it was quite often about a "made up - me". Looking back, it was all about this little girl who only desperately tried to feel accepted. As I was far too young, I couldn't really put my finger on it, but there was always this feeling that, to others, I seemed not quite on their level. Somehow I just didn't fit in, and for a long time (in reality terms) I never met anyone whom appeared to understand.

But every now and again, I could find myself this match, this team member if you like, that made me feel "to be one of them". Unfortunately, "they" were never real. They were characters in a book. Like my "made up - me", they were just creations on paper, results of other weirdo's in their crying attempt for acceptance. When watching a film, it could have the same effect. If one of the roles in the movie felt right, I wanted to identify myself with it, even though it wasn't for real.

Although never fully 'adapted' to nowadays society, I grew up and was more or less able to at least pretend that I did fit in. It was barely a choice though, it was more of an only option to keep my head above the water. I was lucky that on rare occasions I met such a 'match' in reality. They caused this extreme happy feeling, that I could be the real me, an existing me, not a 'fake J'. But as with all friends (the matching ones and the near), they come and some of them go. And when you're not able to deal with them leaving, you're left with emotions that frighten the life out of you.

Thank God that I've learned the ability to cherish these matches, also when they're gone, or not a visual part of your daily life anymore. I (try to) look back with gratitude, instead of regrets.
It also makes me realise that those people that are still part of my life today, are so important to me. I want to cherish them in the same way. And I do my best to show it, when I see them.

But what if you find another match, a written representation of one, but a grown-up version this time?

A while ago, I was trying to get an explanation about something, Google-searching on the net. I (of course) cannot remember exactly what I was looking for but I stumbled upon one of these rare occasions, a written match, for a change in cyberspace. In terms of the Law of Attraction again, this was right on the spot. What I do remember is that the next hour or so was spend on reading the entire site. (And believe me, with an ADHD-brain like mine, that is a real compliment)!

I won't go into details about what this perticular match means to me. The only thing that matters in my explanation for this, is that it just proves that we all have the right to be yourself. That we can enjoy other's lifes even though you're not 'a daily and/or visual part of it'. That opinions, confessions, values and meanings of others can be shared, accepted and respected, even though you sometimes might not agree on it, or think otherwise. It is something that is worth being cherished. There's no need for me to explain, you can find out for yourself.

So here's to DW, the person who matched my writing voice. Someone I've become very fond of, who's a great talented writer, and makes me just want to get to know him better. Letting him being part of the conversations between me, myself and I is an honour.

Kurt Cobain's "Rape me" is a good way to introduce him to my other matches.

J