Writers Dreaming

I talk a lot. I shout my opinions, cry my grievances, and simply enjoy the sound of my own voice. But at the end of the day, I feel as though my words have been wasted. I’ve held back the things that I really wanted to say and replaced them with meaningless complaints that never really reach the ears of those I’m trying to talk to. How much could I say, if I were silent. How much could I hear? Not everything needs a rebuttal, and not every problem can be “talked out.”

Language is the most beautiful form of art, ever to be invented by man. It connects people of all different corners of the world and gives us a window into cultures different from our own. I’m currently learning French, but I’d like to study all of the major romance languages. My sister and I intend on traveling the world together one day, and we’ve made a deal that she has to learn the Germanic and Slavic languages. That should get us through Europe, pretty well; however, we’ll probably need to study some Sino-Tibetan and Altaic languages as well. It’s very difficult to learn another language and requires a lot of commitment, and time. There’s only so much you can learn in a classroom, and you really have to immerse yourself in it, which can be intimidating. ‘Merica needs more people that speak foreign languages.

I’m probably the most forgetful person in the world. I feel like Dory from Finding Nemo. I can’t articulate myself, because I constantly forget my train of thought. I forget things when I get upset, which makes me more upset because I can’t use them to argue with! Names are lost on me, and if I haven’t known the person for years, then I most likely have no clue and will wait until someone else says their name. I’m incredibly envious of Maya Angelou for her ability to remember things clearly. I tend to remember events that I can tie a certain emotion to, like grief or joy or embarrassment. My grandpa developed Alzheimer’s when I was younger, and I watched him go through it all. As a little girl, I didn’t understand why he had forgotten me and why he had become a different person. I stopped going to see him, and it has become one of my biggest regrets.

Writing is a very difficult task. I find that my biggest problem is translating what I’m thinking into words or ideas. I feel like I never say everything that I want to, because each idea branches off into a thousand of other little ideas and it just becomes a jumble in my head. I have trouble focusing and get sidetracked easily. I sometimes sit for hours, just staring at the computer screen, completely at a loss of words and unable to type. I have moments of clarity, though. And that’s when the majority of my work is produced. I think there’s someone pulling my strings like a puppet master.