Monday, April 7, 2014

The Key: The rule book of reading this blog, seriously, not!

By this time last year, I had a bit of letter sending going on with two friends of mine, one who had built an entire history with me for years and another whom I just known a few months. Both were peculiarly interested in perception and writing, whatever it may be. Yes, it was peculiar, but as someone who loves strange forms of connectivity, I obliged. However, as an armor and swords sort of girl, I wrote an entire letter full of rules. Did I hope for it to be interesting? Yes. Or poetic? Kind of. Or intrusive? Hmm... that's a hard one.

In retrospect, I could have been more casual about it. I could have been all cool like some guys look after quoting Chekov or Shakespeare. I might have been able to get away with it if it was directly self-depricative. Nevertheless, somethings just beg to see the light of day. And, on second thought, this might as well apply to you all, too.

Dear you (who asked to see, read, understand),
I write because I have a series of thoughts, chunked into sentences, flowing through my trachea to my larynx, piling up in my throat. The words clog up my throat, it doesn’t hurt, but it is still uncomfortable. That is why I write. To minimize the discomfort, my mind redirects the words to my fingertips. Past my nails and onto the keyboard. The relieve has felt like ecstasy. No, I have not experimented with any drugs, only alcohol and half a cigarette. I find myself snickering, silently with no expression, at this. Why do I have to constantly explain myself?

This is my writing, I shall be honest. If I can’t be honest with my own writing, could I be honest with the you? I am honest in my head, I curse, I complain, I pine over a boy, I love, and I think of lies. But I don’t think I have ever lied in my own mind. I have certainly tried to convince myself that something is not the way it is, but at the end of the day my mind knows that it is all a deception.

My writing shall be a carbon copy of my mind. It shall be honest. It is for those who want to understand, those who will fight to reserve their prejudice and judgments for fights, those who will offer feedback, both good and bad.

I love feedbacks. It is both my strength and kryptonite. It is the fertilizer that prompts me to grow, to become tall trees that will be cut down to make paper for these words to be printed on. Feedback allows me to understand you, the reader, you, who asked for this introduction, you, the curious.

Yes, this is an introduction, a door that will reveal other compartments of my thoughts. Beware, this Pandora’s box is home to blinding sunshine and charcoal black. I don’t expect you to continue this journey. On the contrary, please refrain yourself from touching the handle if you doubt your readiness.
Communicate your hesitation. I will give you a key that will either shield you from or plunge you into the darkness. Tell me and I will give you what I think is best. I am the writer, I cut out words and paste them together. If you are curious enough, I am certain that you will trust me when I say that I will give you the right key.

Be careful where this fork would land

My writing is private. Your feedback is a privilege to me, and the password that I give you is a privilege to you have asked to see these words. I look forward to see you on the other side, I can’t wait to hear that door click and see you walking in, touching the words on the walls. I am well aware that you may pick on those words and create arguments that may leave me with bruises and fractures. Yet, I am as convinced that you will kiss these secrets and embrace it until they become butterflies gilding around you and I.

Last thing, sometimes I find myself lacking inspiration. Feel free to send me themes that you would like me to write about, be it as extreme as bungee jumping or as mild as a cup of tea. Request a story or a thought piece on topics that may or may not be personal to you. I won’t shy away from a gladiator fight. New work will help me grow as an artist. If I am too lazy to write something original, I will shift through my inventory and find one that may suit you. If it doesn’t don’t forget to scream at me or kick my leg under the table. We’ll just agree that it was a simple “Oops”!

I just want to know you, but I understand that in order to do that, you need to know me.
Tap your fingers twice, send me a letter, tell me your desire and doubts, and open your palm. Here’s your

*All photos were supplied by the author

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