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opening the door - Salvador Dali in a lawn chair.
I'm invisible without 3D glasses.
opening the door
Gosh, how much I just wish that I didn't have to create extensions of myself via the web to be able to spend time with friends. Distance relationships (friendships, romance, etc.) are like distance learning, you feel like you're cheating yourself and them of the time you could really be spending with them. I admire people like birdofparadox who seem to be able to communicate and even _live_ part of their lives so comfortably on the net, as if they have created a home for themselves. That's what I hope to do here, to build a niche that I can inhabit, invite you guys in for coffee, share the things that make us human (whether pain, bliss or blah), even if it is only in 1's and 0's. I've always chatted with people online, but never really felt like I was a web-denizen. Now, I'm laying the foundation of a place to stay while I'm in Japan, a little place all my own on the web. I don't know if it'll be a really large and spacious suburban home with comfy sofas and a big screen TV or a tiny temporary apartment, complete with bar stools and a threadbare rug, just enough to get me by until I can come home in the real world. Who knows, if it starts to feel like home, I might just decide to keep paying rent on the place. Either way, welcome, friends.

The computer is a relatively new palette when it comes to my writing, as well. While I write my papers directly on the computer, it involved little romance or flourish. In my academic writing words just fall into their places, demonstrating a precise balance of political correctness and clinical astuteness. My personal writing, however, has always been done the old-fashioned way, by hand, lovingly pressed into crinkled paper or battered journals that have become as much a part of me as my old, wind-up, stuffed raccoon that used to hum me to sleep.

To nyarl: you give really good hugs. I wish I could have one. And I don't think that life is by nature empty…which makes it so disturbing that I so often feel like that's the way my life is fated to be if I continue on my track in the "business" world. But then again, I'm sure I'll feel much better once I get these blasted papers out of the way and I can concentrate on what I really care about…living.

mood: mellow mellow
music: Bruce Springsteen - I'm On Fire

3 Voices in a Chorus | Lift Your Voice Aloft
birdofparadox From: birdofparadox Date: February 9th, 2001 08:08 am (UTC) (link)


Thank you for the nice compliment.

I think I really started *living* here when most of my friends moved away.... I was terribly broke, so I couldn't afford a lot of phone calls. A huge part of my social life became a series of emails and chat sessions, and with that comes a voice. I never went on the Internet to hide from the world, but to be more real than I dared under normal circumstances... Finding my voice here made walking talking breathing me better at communicating, more patient, and a lot less shallow.

I try to imagine the medium to be as intimate as those dog-eared, well-worn composition books I've carried around for the last five years... it isn't, but there's a quality to printing something so that --literally-- the world could see that is liberating... Your inner censor is going to pop out, but also, you're encouraged to actually write artfully, knowing someone may read this.... :)
lost_angel From: lost_angel Date: February 9th, 2001 08:40 am (UTC) (link)


Now that I haven't seriously picked up a paintbrush or a drawing pencil in years, I consider writing to be the only remaining artform I truly practice, enjoy, take the time to do. And even my writing has suffered from school work and the many brainless distractions that make my school work suffer :). I feel like I've lost part of me that really lived. Even though I carry my idea notebooks with me almost everywhere and am brainstorming all the time, until recently I haven't taken the time to express myself through the written word. What makes it even more ironic is that I think I've finally started writing again to avoid doing some heavy research papers that are pressing on me from last semester! So the victim of work and distactions has now become a distraction itself. ::sigh:: but that is for another journal entry. I think I could go on for days about how I live in a fantasy world of distractions and make-believe to avoid the fact that I hate the life I've made for myself.

But now that I'm here, and there is the chance that someone might read it, will I be as honest as I am with my private, hand-written journals? Will I worry too much about how good it sounds compared to the writing of others? I suppose that my personal journals will have a function still, a place where I can write about the problems I'm having with my love, the feelings that I consider a bit shameful or the things that might embarrass me. A little more stricture than what I could write only to myself, yet there's something that uplifts you when you think that your writing might be ...enjoyed... by others. I appreciate being able to read the ramblings of others, it is both enlightening, strengthening, and humbling when it is so _artfully_ written. Like your poetry. I count myself a gifted poetess, until I read yours. Mine seems so squallid and trite. So it becomes both a demon and a friend... :)
birdofparadox From: birdofparadox Date: February 9th, 2001 09:08 am (UTC) (link)

Oh, feh...

Everyone has their own style, and it seldom pays any attention to what we want it to be.

If truth be known, I would rather not write poetry. I hate most poetry. It drives me batty. And I truly hate that I hate it; because it makes me look like a hypocrite that I write poetry. If I had my choice in my poetry, I'd love to write witticisms like D. Parker did: those acid-tongued, brilliant little gems that are the poetic equivalent of pop gems.

My poetic voice is angry and raw and thoughtful, mainly because when I developed it, I felt like no one would listen to me otherwise.. sometimes, I think the best thing to happen to me was gaining weight (writing a post to my journal about that now)....
3 Voices in a Chorus | Lift Your Voice Aloft