Friday, August 12, 2011

My early work I

As promised, I wanted to share some of my early writing. I've been writing all my life but most of it has been simply sent to the Universe. Not that I ever thought to save it, just was channeling my unfulfilled creative desires. That's why I was so happy to have recently found a memory stick from 4 years ago that had a part of my journal. Bear in mind I was 25 back then and going thru some serious personal and professional transformations. I believe it was (how they say it) the best and the worst of times. 
The piece below was written during my former company's training. For quiet some time I was angry with my parents for not being there for me. If you recall from my first posts, I came to the US as an international exchange student at 19 and never went back.. Parents had no physical presence really, at times I even felt that I was all on my own. I don't feel that way now, but again I am more mature now and see things differently. However back then I was blaming some of the hardship on them. Mom and Dad, I love you and am sorry for ever feeling that way. You're the best parents and always took care of me. It was my choice to leave and stay here and for that I take full responsibility.

     "She woke up early this morning. Again. It has been already three days in Orlando, and three nights in a hotel bed, yet      she still couldn’t find that comfort and easiness to make it thru the night for at least 5 straight hours. Well there is always another day, another night to try again. Considering all the facts, she was feeling well, not tired at all, just a little uneasy about having the signs of sleeplessness around her green eyes.

Last night, again it was a strange dream that could mean many things to an imaginative mind. But she knew well enough that it was that feeling of a suppressed anger with her parents for not being around and not giving a hand when it was needed. She has been on her own since 19; taking care of herself financially, emotionally, and any other way a person would do when been thrown out in deep waters of an adult life; no way back, no guidance, no life saver or even a luxury of a thought that one would be provided when waters became too wild and dangerous.
Then it would not come as a surprise that hope was something of a remote and fictional character to her. It had no substance, for in order to have such it would need to have another human involved, someone to depend on. If there was any resemblance of a hope in her restless mind, it would be a fleeting thought that she could never fail herself. Yet the thought was always fleeting, for hope would simply imply that she didn’t have total control of her life, and that would mean that there was a chance of being drowned. Life is too dangerous to entertain such a thought. So the only way the unfulfilled hope could channel itself would be those rare dreams of anger with her parents.
Therefore, it was the biggest surprise, to her mostly, when she would find a child in her, some spark of innocence and naiveté. It would be a nice & cozy, though an imaginary, feeling of having a cushion to fall on. At those moments, she believed in its existence for two reasons, one was that the feeling itself was a joy, the other is that she knew well enough that she would never fall and, therefore, no cushion would be needed. But it was nice to entertain that thought and let herself be silly and childish sometimes, even if it was just as unreal as her hope.''

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