May 1, 2010

voice / awareness

(how to begin?
I wanted to write a post about awareness. I wondered how Kmac could write posts that conveyed information and opinion, and musing, not necessarily situated in time. somehow themed posts - like this one [links are because I have friends who don't all know each other]  work for her. our voices are different.)

Francine Prose: "we're willing to accept the loopy poetry of a consciousness that registers 'mutilated' luggage..." 
her calling the presence of a consciousness "poetry" is what makes me love this quote from Reading Like A Writer.

much of what I write is the expression that travels distances stretching out to where I want to be. I can get emotional and wax fluidly about feeling insecure, guilty, too attention-seeking. all of which is for myself, not for anyone else, because it's too steeped in its origin for them, that by the time I've been released their minds are still caught, or rather tangled up in fishing-line.

I wonder how much of life should be spent aware of what you do and how you are and the subtleties of those around you. to be aware of individuals feels refined, not refined as in refined sugar, or refined culture; rather, as if you're capable of being moved by the tiny waves of personality emanating from everyone. as if the world is full of color and you live every day in an art museum.

and still, I've left unanswered this question of awareness, "what you do and how you are." & I doubt that that's really what I'm asking.

sometimes I suspect that I'm writing for its own sake. oh the pleasure of feeling like you're creating something, of being able to ramble among clouds and then pin down your frothy daydreams and feel satisfied.

"one day I will sit down and paint clouds, lots and lots of them. and then I will display them and call them art. then people will ask me what they mean, and I won't tell them."


i feel so self-indulgent today that I'm quoting myself and not bothering to capitalize...

One day I think I should like to write a poem about a fictional character. Or perhaps I should write more fiction. The easiest fiction to write are the conversations that happen in my head, between different parts of my mind in dispute.

"I'm being obnoxious."
"No, you're not."
"YES, I am! Annoyed yet?"

I think, (I've picked up unconventional comma usage - I like to write in a way that conveys how the words sound in my head [oh, and I keep trying to find places to use semicolons; it's only sometimes effective]) I think this post has to do with Hayley's blog post today. (I don't know what I think about talking about people! it's so hard to convey what I mean without it, but it feels all prickly and glaring to reference them. I suppose I take on tedium to attempt to record the journeying of today's mind.) To summarize it (because rephrasing other people's words is my way of making it make sense) : this moment exists in all eternity, so "take hold of that which is truly life!" {Strange, how the act of writing can sometimes halt you amid a moving world, and other times, be the only thing that breaks the stillness.}

anyhoo... how this relates to awareness. Seldom (I like the world seldom, but it's not the right one. :restart sentence:) Today, and probably yesterday as well, I haven't thought much of choosing to live life. I was pressed forward, nearly catapulted, from one thing to the next - not catapulted physically, or by the constraints of time, but all was pressing towards the goal. Of this morning's test. (this is something I was/am insecure about, the fact that I've mentioned it so much, makes me afraid I am asking for attention or pity or praise. perhaps I say what is on my mind too much? perhaps I feel that I will be more secure if I have people's prayers, and - what feels like that which is not mine - time taking up their thoughts. I wonder why I say anything if this will be the result.)

Now I have to make choices again. I don't have as much time now as I did when I started this post, but I suppose I do have something to show for it. How much of life is this awareness: feeling and making others feel? Asking for an act of attention, or making one yourself? I may be like a fly, caught in the sticky of thought. There is intellectual activity, but it feels hollow to simply engage in it when it's not needed at present. ...

John Mark Reynolds: "Our problem is not questioning, but where our questions start."


I'm hoping to leave, to be moved, to seek and to find.


["Take me away from here" by Olena S.]

4 comments:

Daughter of the King said...

Rebbecca,
Your blog is resplendent. I'm a fan of the picture. It looks like something you would see in bronze frame at the flea market.
~Renee

Daughter of the King said...

Or maybe a post card... it would make a good post card.

Micah E. said...

I like the style of writing - or meta writing - found here. It's... not quite conversational, but not formal either. There feels little to respond to, but much to think about.

I prayed for your tests this morning. I hope they went well.

Kaitlyn said...

That picture...

:)