It would mean tons if you give it a look & tell me what you think? Thank you so much.
So, I may or may not have started a new blog. Filleosophie will still be my writing blog, where I will be updating occasionally, but my new one is more of everything that interests me. From books to films to music to fashion. So please give it a look & tell me what you think?
It’s right here :)
Thank you so much
Written on April 6th, 2013
Okay, so I just discovered “Rookie Yearbook: One” via someone on YouTube and looked up the book on Good Reads only to discover it’s written by a 16 year old girl called Tavi Gevinson. Naturally, I was so excited that someone that young had written something so popular! I then discovered that she started her career off by starting a blog called “Style Rookie” and slowly it built up a fan base of readers until one day, she got contacted by The New York Times for an interview.
Inspired by her story – as much as most people would consider it a fluke – I thought it motivated me to stick to something, whatever it is I want to do, just do it and persevere. Try to improve it, be honest, be controversial if that’s truly your opinion. Not to be afraid to aim “too high” because there’s no such thing as dreaming too much.
So, yep, I thought I’d share with you my little moment of inspiration.
If you’re interested;
Tuesday, April 9th, 2013 Update: I started this blog inspired by Tavi! Help me out?
Written on the 5th of April, 2013
I recently watched Before Sunset and the movie just couldn’t leave my mind. A part that particularly interested me was a few things Celine says about moving somewhere new;
I remember as a teenager I went to Warsaw. Something about being there was very interesting. After a couple of weeks, something changed in me. The city was quite gloomy and gray, but after a while, my brain seemed clearer. I was writing more in my journal. Ideas I’d never thought of before. It took me a while to figure out why I felt so different. One day, as I was walking through the Jewish cemetery – I don’t know why, but it occurred to me there – I realized that I had spent the last two weeks away from most of my habits. TV was in a language I didn’t understand…there was nothing to buy, no advertisements anywhere, so all I’d been doing was; walk around, think, and write. My brain felt like it was at rest.
I dont know what’s so captivating about her description, but there is nothing I yearn for more than moving somewhere completely unfamiliar or a place that speaks a completely different language. Not knowing anyone, not having to conform to anybody’s acceptable ways of conversing, you can just be absolutely silent for a week, just thinking, writing or expressing in any way, shape or form.
You’re also so far away from the constant propaganda and judgment of the media outlets that we’re exposed to all the time.
Think about it, we’re never alone.
Every morning you might turn on the tv to watch the news, you’re faced with political opinions and such and once in a while, a loud commercial would play and you’re sucked in by all the wonderful techniques those producers and marketers are using to sell their goddamn products. You leave off for school or work and there are billboards of adverts everywhere. You come back home and you’re back to the constant exposure from TV, to your phone, to the internet, to magazines, etc, etc
You are never alone. And that thought horrifies me.
Your bookshelves are filled with stacks and stacks of words bound together that describe new places you’ve never observed at first hand yet have an unexplainable love for. A love that spurs from the pleasure in gifting your mind with the chance to see what it has been craving.
The chance to see the places you lust to discover. Places that hold tapes and photographs of memories you wish to make. People you wish to explore and learn.
You spend your days roaming the world from your little bed room and your in-somnolent nights believing that this burgeoning and idyllic place that has constructed itself in your head, is real.
The words you’ve eagerly swallowed are the foundation of those vast fortresses in your mind. Each with infinite rooms designed to represent the courageous endeavors you aspire to make. To represent the entrancing scenery you seem to have seen during those wandering daydreams that consume almost all your time.
These fortresses appear to be buzzing with life. After all, they’ve become homes to the yearning minds that float and prance about the starry universe of exploration and inspiration. The minds belonging to people of all types. Some you’d love to have a brief conversation with at a coffee shop just to part and return to the lives you came from. And others you wouldnt endure envisioning an existence without.
You wonder, perhaps, when you visit those places and meet those people, you’ll reach a state of nirvana. Who knows? You should try. I know I will.
For a while, everything felt repetitive.
I’m not quite sure when that was brought to my attention. Wether I’ve always known that it was all building up towards this. This disinterest in every little thing that once left me fascinated for hours. Or wether it just, sort of…happened.
One day it was just the same quiet whistling of air seeping through my window.
The same dim blue light that my eyes have no problem adjusting to anymore, even in the earliest hours.
The same specks of golden dust that hover above me as I lie on my bed, by the window every afternoon after school.
The same faces I’ve tried to decipher.
The same voices I used to relish.
The same words that kept my thoughts racing.
For a while. It all seemed to be lost. Gone. Nothing.
But here I am. Still recognizing the value of all those small things I thought have been recklessly rid of all meaning. And that was the moment I realized nothing lost meaning. In fact, I had nothing to hold on to but those little things. I became dependent on their presence. A morning too bright would push me off the norm scale. A voice unfamiliar would make me ache for familiarity. A touch out of place. A word too vague. A room too small.
You’re staring at a key that is lying in the middle of a room. Within those 4 walls and door, are your worst nightmares. You scream. You pound at the walls. But there’s nothing. It’s always nothing. You know there’s a possibility that that abandoned key might fit in the lock. You know there’s a possibility of escaping that room. Wherever that door may lead, you just know it would be better than living your worst nightmare.
Yet day by day, you sit in the same corner, staring at those four walls, screaming till your voice is hoarse and your heart weak. And every goddamn day you’d think “What if…What if…What if…” despite the fact that it’s eating you from the inside out, there’s this inexplicable sense of security about it. A sense of safety in that corner.
That is what not trying feels like.
Okay, so here’s the deal with all these writing projects I want to do.
Okay, so it has just come to my awareness that April is National Poetry Writing Month. Thanks to everyone who made sure to tell me in advance so I can prepare a poem for the first day!
If you didn’t catch the sarcasm, I’m not throwing it at you again.
Wahey, so I decided to give this a shot this year and actually commit to it. We’ll see how I do! Are any of you participating this year?