My imposter syndrome is insane.
I can never talk about my own feelings, or mental wellbeing, or anything negative because there is always someone who has it worser than I.
All my life I've let other people talk about their own mental issues over mine. Why do you think I've upkept this blog for six years? Because no one listens. No onw will listen-
Not even the ones who think they are listening. Who think they're so good at being friends. Those who thank me for being a good friend and always been there for them.
But they never give back.
Or well.
I never give them anything of myself.
No one cares about someone without scars, someone who hasn't gone to therapy, someone who hasn't been sexually assaulted and been open about it.
It's not tasty enough.
The truth? Yes it hurts me.
But I've been doing this for six years, always kept every damn secret to myself, always found alternative ways of not killing myself, always been on my damn own.
I don't think I'll ever learn to be open. No one has given me a chance.
And I hurt.
No Story Lives Forever
Broken
måndag 22 juni 2020
söndag 14 juni 2020
Long post about writing, pride and feelings
Oh wow, is it a new post by me after like three months of radio silence? This post will be just like my posts about achievement anxiety from one year back where I yelled into the void of the internet, please let me do it again.
If you wonder where I've been, I've been living mostly inside my head again (and my apartment because corona. Nothing spectacular.). The walls were thick and I was trapped. Don't know if I'm out my head yet, but for now, I just needed to get stuff out of me. Heh. But I've been feeling up and down lately, mostly up, almost always up. Writing really helps.
Anyways.
This post is mainly introspection of why writing.... comes so easy to me? Why I'm feeling proud of my writing. Maybe it is a personality issue, maybe it's a thing completely from training and practise, maybe it's an issue fed by outsiders, i don't know. If you read my posts from the autumn where I wrote this post and ranted about one of the best fics I've read being deleted and became really upset by it, this is kinda similar.
The enormous, overwhelming feelings I feel when other (fan)writers put themselves down and go through waves of insecurity (and even delete their stories) have proven to me something I can't control. It feels almost like a stab in my own heart. I don't know why, and I can't control it. I get frustrated when I can't relate at all to their feelings and I know feelings are ALL individual but... I still can't stop. And I feel weird for not feeling insecure. I made some deep thinking about my past and my relationship to writing and creating stories and this is the solution I came to.
Let me take it from the beginning.
The drive to creating stories, at least to the extend when you've been writing every day since you were like eight years old, is a personality trait. It has to be a personality thing.
I began writing when I was very young. And, yes, I admit it, I do have talent. I have that raw talent that has what it takes to make a good story and ever since I was a little kid, I finished the stories. Not all of course, because what isn't childhood if not having a thousand ideas to bring to life - multiple stories at the same time.
But one thing I finished when I was ten/eleven was a "book" that was 50 pages long. And I brought a whole story full circle. Each chapter has a little story in it, and it was essentially 25 smaller stories connected by one great narrative of a village where horses lived and ruled (I was ten don't judge me).
Is it a skill? Is it talent to be able to sense your way through a story and just knowing where it's going and how it will end? I don't know.
Okay, a middle note here about sharing your own creative writing. It's hard. Sharing your texts is generally hard. But not for me, because I know I am good. Sounds horrible, doesn't it? I've always known I'm good - always gotten praise, always gotten the validation I need, always gotten constructive feedback. Never have I ever doubted my own skill in creating a story. I wrote a little bit more about me being proud of my fanfic writing here.
And now I've begun feeling guilty for feeling that. It's hard.
Why have I never feared bearing that part of my soul and identity? I know my stories are generally heavy and I know they will get some kind of reaction, both good and bad (because some people simply doesn't stomach my stuff), and just that fact has been enough for me. I've gotten a reaction from people. It feeds me.
When I was twelve, I got a prize for my creative writing in school. The whole school and all the parents were watching. I can't remember the exact words the headmaster said, but he praised me a lot. I got praise for my writing. It felt so damn good. I was so proud and I was beaming.
But strangely enough, this didn't ignite good girl syndrome in me (which I've written a lot about a year back here). I've never felt "oh, just because I once was good - what if I'll never get this good again. I must write just as good as the last text/story" etc. Because the horrible truth? I know my next story or text will be just as good at the last one.
Is this a personality trait or is it just because I've done so much damn writing over the past decade that I simply know my own writing and myself so well that I also believe damn hard in my own skills.
These skills have of course been polished and trained over the years. Trained by re-writing a novel four times, trained by finishing said novel four times. Trained by writing five full length theatre plays.
The people who have read my novel have been astounded and showered me in praise. The audience to my play which was produced loved it. It scared the crap out of them, which I was happy about because that was what I aimed for.
All my life I've gotten validation. And I have believed in them. I've known they were coming. Never have I thought "oh the audience is lying to me, it probably sucks". I have looked at my texts and smiled and thought "this is so fucking good".
When I wrote about good girl-syndrome, I was mainly frustrated that I was different and don't have achievent anxiety (which *everyone* was talking about back in 2019 and I got angry at all the discussions because I couldn't understand them that well). I wrote a long rant about achievement anxiety here.
All my life women/girls/creators/every damn box I can tic been portrayed as the anxious mess. It's always about girls and young women "having too much pressure" on themselves, either by themselves or by society/standards and how can we make them feel happy, and no, I try to by no means undermine their feelings, but I have gotten so many dirty looks in real life for feeling pride and for being myself. For being secure, for loving my body, for loving the way I look and sound and speak and everything and I know people can't stand me for being that way so why would I like myself for it? This is a great dilemma for me, because two feelings crash badly.
"Being different" makes me frustrated because I don't know how to tackle it. It should be a good thing, I should be all good because I don't feel insecure like ever, especially not in my writing. I love everything I write. I love writing, that is why I do it.
And when I hear other people talk ill about their own writing I empathize too much and too hard. I wrote a post about what it takes to be a good writer here and to this day I still don't know the answer.
Talent, spite, training, personality?
I still don't know.
But I have now lost my original thought and just had to get stuff out of my chest. I just wish I would be as happy as I was before. But I am happy overall. I just wish I can feel happy about being happy.
If you wonder where I've been, I've been living mostly inside my head again (and my apartment because corona. Nothing spectacular.). The walls were thick and I was trapped. Don't know if I'm out my head yet, but for now, I just needed to get stuff out of me. Heh. But I've been feeling up and down lately, mostly up, almost always up. Writing really helps.
Anyways.
This post is mainly introspection of why writing.... comes so easy to me? Why I'm feeling proud of my writing. Maybe it is a personality issue, maybe it's a thing completely from training and practise, maybe it's an issue fed by outsiders, i don't know. If you read my posts from the autumn where I wrote this post and ranted about one of the best fics I've read being deleted and became really upset by it, this is kinda similar.
The enormous, overwhelming feelings I feel when other (fan)writers put themselves down and go through waves of insecurity (and even delete their stories) have proven to me something I can't control. It feels almost like a stab in my own heart. I don't know why, and I can't control it. I get frustrated when I can't relate at all to their feelings and I know feelings are ALL individual but... I still can't stop. And I feel weird for not feeling insecure. I made some deep thinking about my past and my relationship to writing and creating stories and this is the solution I came to.
Let me take it from the beginning.
The drive to creating stories, at least to the extend when you've been writing every day since you were like eight years old, is a personality trait. It has to be a personality thing.
I began writing when I was very young. And, yes, I admit it, I do have talent. I have that raw talent that has what it takes to make a good story and ever since I was a little kid, I finished the stories. Not all of course, because what isn't childhood if not having a thousand ideas to bring to life - multiple stories at the same time.
But one thing I finished when I was ten/eleven was a "book" that was 50 pages long. And I brought a whole story full circle. Each chapter has a little story in it, and it was essentially 25 smaller stories connected by one great narrative of a village where horses lived and ruled (I was ten don't judge me).
Is it a skill? Is it talent to be able to sense your way through a story and just knowing where it's going and how it will end? I don't know.
Okay, a middle note here about sharing your own creative writing. It's hard. Sharing your texts is generally hard. But not for me, because I know I am good. Sounds horrible, doesn't it? I've always known I'm good - always gotten praise, always gotten the validation I need, always gotten constructive feedback. Never have I ever doubted my own skill in creating a story. I wrote a little bit more about me being proud of my fanfic writing here.
And now I've begun feeling guilty for feeling that. It's hard.
Why have I never feared bearing that part of my soul and identity? I know my stories are generally heavy and I know they will get some kind of reaction, both good and bad (because some people simply doesn't stomach my stuff), and just that fact has been enough for me. I've gotten a reaction from people. It feeds me.
When I was twelve, I got a prize for my creative writing in school. The whole school and all the parents were watching. I can't remember the exact words the headmaster said, but he praised me a lot. I got praise for my writing. It felt so damn good. I was so proud and I was beaming.
But strangely enough, this didn't ignite good girl syndrome in me (which I've written a lot about a year back here). I've never felt "oh, just because I once was good - what if I'll never get this good again. I must write just as good as the last text/story" etc. Because the horrible truth? I know my next story or text will be just as good at the last one.
Is this a personality trait or is it just because I've done so much damn writing over the past decade that I simply know my own writing and myself so well that I also believe damn hard in my own skills.
These skills have of course been polished and trained over the years. Trained by re-writing a novel four times, trained by finishing said novel four times. Trained by writing five full length theatre plays.
The people who have read my novel have been astounded and showered me in praise. The audience to my play which was produced loved it. It scared the crap out of them, which I was happy about because that was what I aimed for.
All my life I've gotten validation. And I have believed in them. I've known they were coming. Never have I thought "oh the audience is lying to me, it probably sucks". I have looked at my texts and smiled and thought "this is so fucking good".
When I wrote about good girl-syndrome, I was mainly frustrated that I was different and don't have achievent anxiety (which *everyone* was talking about back in 2019 and I got angry at all the discussions because I couldn't understand them that well). I wrote a long rant about achievement anxiety here.
All my life women/girls/creators/every damn box I can tic been portrayed as the anxious mess. It's always about girls and young women "having too much pressure" on themselves, either by themselves or by society/standards and how can we make them feel happy, and no, I try to by no means undermine their feelings, but I have gotten so many dirty looks in real life for feeling pride and for being myself. For being secure, for loving my body, for loving the way I look and sound and speak and everything and I know people can't stand me for being that way so why would I like myself for it? This is a great dilemma for me, because two feelings crash badly.
"Being different" makes me frustrated because I don't know how to tackle it. It should be a good thing, I should be all good because I don't feel insecure like ever, especially not in my writing. I love everything I write. I love writing, that is why I do it.
And when I hear other people talk ill about their own writing I empathize too much and too hard. I wrote a post about what it takes to be a good writer here and to this day I still don't know the answer.
Talent, spite, training, personality?
I still don't know.
But I have now lost my original thought and just had to get stuff out of my chest. I just wish I would be as happy as I was before. But I am happy overall. I just wish I can feel happy about being happy.
fredag 10 april 2020
måndag 9 mars 2020
A video for all of you
Wow, this video hit pretty close to home. It never went as bad for me as for this girl in the video, but I have showed signs of this disorder when younger.
I wanted to break a bone soo badly, I wanted to ride an ambulance, I wanted to get hurt because it would feel good.
The reason the disorder never blossomed out for me was when I talked about my desires to get hurt to my mom when I was a kid (I must've been around ten or eleven). My mom cared and talked in great lenght about this with me, and to just get acknowledgement and to be seen without having to hurt myself, wow it saved me.
(later on I hurt myself for completely other reasons than attention).
I never got to the stages of actually hurting myself on purpose, but I dreamt about it, often. I was jealous of friends with broken bones.
I still sometimes dream about it, but rarely.
But as I've written on here before. I would love to have scars. Just have to find a way to get them.
torsdag 5 mars 2020
Why did it come to this?
You have probably seen some lame jokes on IG that are similar to this:
Me when giving mental health advice to my friends: cue something extremely inspirational etc and a picture describing love and care
Me when handling my own mental health: cue someone getting kicked
I am so tired. Sad. Stressed. I would like to lock myself in and just listen to music. But I don't. I get up, do my work, try to be a good wife though I'm failing at it because I'm so wrecked, smile and laugh, sit in the tram, hate myself, rinse, repeat.
Why did it come to this?
Why have I fallen down into a pit of darkness again, after such a good autumn? I loved my life in the autumn, everything was so awesome.
Why do I sometimes vomit even if I'm not sick?
Why do my blood vessels leak even if I don't have a bruise?
Why do I feel so down all the time?
I don't want to feel so sad all the time.
Me when giving mental health advice to my friends: cue something extremely inspirational etc and a picture describing love and care
Me when handling my own mental health: cue someone getting kicked
I am so tired. Sad. Stressed. I would like to lock myself in and just listen to music. But I don't. I get up, do my work, try to be a good wife though I'm failing at it because I'm so wrecked, smile and laugh, sit in the tram, hate myself, rinse, repeat.
Why did it come to this?
Why have I fallen down into a pit of darkness again, after such a good autumn? I loved my life in the autumn, everything was so awesome.
Why do I sometimes vomit even if I'm not sick?
Why do my blood vessels leak even if I don't have a bruise?
Why do I feel so down all the time?
I don't want to feel so sad all the time.
onsdag 26 februari 2020
A grey fog and a black rim
We had our first show last week! God it was intense. I was acting six days in a row, for the previews and everything.
I leave home a little after 16, arrive a little bit after 17, and the show starts at 18:30. The show ends at 22. I am home around 23. That's a full work day.
I've got a master to write, school to attend, and a horse to take care of during the days.
Trying to write a play that's going to shit, and writing a new novel on top of that.
I was close to relapsing last week.
Oh fuck how scared I became, because the feeling that was slowly creeping up to me was so everlasting similar to how I began feeling when at my lowest point 2016, which I've written in quite detail here before (scroll back to last spring or so and you get it all).
I never want to feel the same way I felt in 2016. I was so suicidal and to that acting was the best fucking thing happening to me. It's true. Acting was better than having a boyfriend.
In the autumn I felt better than I've done in the longest time ever. That's why I didn't write so much here, because this blog was defiled with negative feelings and I didn't feel them. I was close to manic during the autumn, I was the most creative I've been ever and now in hindsight, it was almost sick.
If the dip from that manic period was greater I would've started to suspect bipolar disorder, because I was so high on everything. Especially my own fantasy universe.
My relationship was taking a toll from that period. I neglected my husband (then fiancé) because my fantasy universe was more important. I used to be active on snapchat, but suddenly I realised I hadn't checked it for days. I was shocked when checking insta stories, which I used to follow hourly, and I realise some of them are 23 hours old. I hadn't simply checked IG all day.
I became slightly worried, because nothing in my real life did all of a sudden matter. My own fantasy universe was everything to me. I was so high on it I became almost detached from reality.
My wedding was heavy for me. I loved it of course, but because I had been so detached from reality planning for it was a pain in the ass. Thinking about the future is and was very hard for me. I lived so hardcore in the present that planning a wedding was very difficult for me. I don't like planning and I grew very frustrated, especially during January. That was the same time the acting rehersals began multiple times a week and my manic period turned into something similar to depression (wow I really sound like a bipolar person when writing it down).
I forgot to tell people important details. I neglected stuff, I couldn't focus.
I loved the wedding. Such a wonderful day.
And after the wedding, this tired feeling never left. And when I had been acting for six days in a row, and was so exhausted, my anxiety came back.
The stress. The fucking stress/anxiety and darkness.
I don't know what to do. I've gotten lost again.
I leave home a little after 16, arrive a little bit after 17, and the show starts at 18:30. The show ends at 22. I am home around 23. That's a full work day.
I've got a master to write, school to attend, and a horse to take care of during the days.
Trying to write a play that's going to shit, and writing a new novel on top of that.
I was close to relapsing last week.
Oh fuck how scared I became, because the feeling that was slowly creeping up to me was so everlasting similar to how I began feeling when at my lowest point 2016, which I've written in quite detail here before (scroll back to last spring or so and you get it all).
I never want to feel the same way I felt in 2016. I was so suicidal and to that acting was the best fucking thing happening to me. It's true. Acting was better than having a boyfriend.
In the autumn I felt better than I've done in the longest time ever. That's why I didn't write so much here, because this blog was defiled with negative feelings and I didn't feel them. I was close to manic during the autumn, I was the most creative I've been ever and now in hindsight, it was almost sick.
If the dip from that manic period was greater I would've started to suspect bipolar disorder, because I was so high on everything. Especially my own fantasy universe.
My relationship was taking a toll from that period. I neglected my husband (then fiancé) because my fantasy universe was more important. I used to be active on snapchat, but suddenly I realised I hadn't checked it for days. I was shocked when checking insta stories, which I used to follow hourly, and I realise some of them are 23 hours old. I hadn't simply checked IG all day.
I became slightly worried, because nothing in my real life did all of a sudden matter. My own fantasy universe was everything to me. I was so high on it I became almost detached from reality.
My wedding was heavy for me. I loved it of course, but because I had been so detached from reality planning for it was a pain in the ass. Thinking about the future is and was very hard for me. I lived so hardcore in the present that planning a wedding was very difficult for me. I don't like planning and I grew very frustrated, especially during January. That was the same time the acting rehersals began multiple times a week and my manic period turned into something similar to depression (wow I really sound like a bipolar person when writing it down).
I forgot to tell people important details. I neglected stuff, I couldn't focus.
I loved the wedding. Such a wonderful day.
And after the wedding, this tired feeling never left. And when I had been acting for six days in a row, and was so exhausted, my anxiety came back.
The stress. The fucking stress/anxiety and darkness.
I don't know what to do. I've gotten lost again.
måndag 17 februari 2020
We got fake blood!
We got fake blood! In the show I'm in. I die there, or my character dies, and at first we were promised fake blood and fake blood is always nice!
I like playing around with blood
Anyways, we were going to have blood, but the director decided to cut it out as it turned out to not fit in the scenario.
But now we changed it again and now I get to smear my whole face full of that blood. Nice.
I'm living a very stressful time right now. The premiere is on Friday for my show and every night this week we got rehersals so we're on fire on Friday. I've got hell of a lot of school work to do and I'm writing that damn thesis. I am really, really tired and can't get much done when everything falls down on me at once.
Please have patience with this little bloody me.
måndag 10 februari 2020
Can someone loan me energy?
Oh god, I am almost alive
I've been so motherf cking tired that I haven't known what to do with myself. Ever since my wedding (which was wonderful and a success!) I've been tired, almost depressed and yet again tired.
This weekend I had an attack of aura migraine again.
Short explanation: aura migraine is migraine with hallucinations and sensory problems and this little fellow happen to suffer from them time to time.
This time the aura even came with insomnia too :)
So, the feeling when you're awake at 03:30, and your head hurts as if someone had poured ice right into the back of your forehead, alternatively is chopping your optic nerve over and over again and you don't want to look at your phone (which would be the normal reaction to insomnia, too spent time on the phone) because then you see the hallucination and it hurts your eye.
Note: the visual hallucinations are due to the visual centre in the brain sending wrong signals, it's not caused by a mental illness.
So I am yet again tired as balls and the common feeling after an attack like that is being depressed so yeeaaah.
Good to be back here now. The wedding took all my energy. I'm slowly gaining my resources back.
I've been so motherf cking tired that I haven't known what to do with myself. Ever since my wedding (which was wonderful and a success!) I've been tired, almost depressed and yet again tired.
This weekend I had an attack of aura migraine again.
Short explanation: aura migraine is migraine with hallucinations and sensory problems and this little fellow happen to suffer from them time to time.
This time the aura even came with insomnia too :)
So, the feeling when you're awake at 03:30, and your head hurts as if someone had poured ice right into the back of your forehead, alternatively is chopping your optic nerve over and over again and you don't want to look at your phone (which would be the normal reaction to insomnia, too spent time on the phone) because then you see the hallucination and it hurts your eye.
Note: the visual hallucinations are due to the visual centre in the brain sending wrong signals, it's not caused by a mental illness.
So I am yet again tired as balls and the common feeling after an attack like that is being depressed so yeeaaah.
Good to be back here now. The wedding took all my energy. I'm slowly gaining my resources back.
tisdag 28 januari 2020
The love hate relationship with the wedding bubble
I'm getting married really soon. In like four days.
Wow, it's so awesome, and great and everything I want, but also scary. At times I've hated planning for the wedding, at moments I've loved it. There are so many expectations and "right" ways to do it, that at some point I started feeling sick.
Planning for the wedding made me angry and I just wanted the party over with. My standard lowered and lowered because I got anxiety from planning. I'm more into the improvisation thing with my life so when I suddenly had a huge ordeal that demanded planning and simply could not be improvised I got frustrated. My husband to be is a person who dislikes improvisation and I dislike planning, so we had to work over the planning issue.
And while I know I will love the party and all the love and attention and whatnot and I'll feel like the stars are aligning and I'll love love love it - I know I won't miss the planning. Fuck the wedding bubble, it's fake! Yes, some people might love the bubble and love thinking 24/7 about their wedding, but I'm not part of that bubble and I never was.
One of my best friends is getting married in 2021, and she's already looking at wedding bouquets and colour themes and photographers and it makes me sick, because I'm just on my way out of that bubble and I don't get how she can in such advance time hype over her wedding.
Okay, I sound really really ungrateful and like an ugly friend and all, but.... I'm tired. I'm stressed. I'm anxious.
But somehow I know that day'll be one of the best ones in my life
Wow, it's so awesome, and great and everything I want, but also scary. At times I've hated planning for the wedding, at moments I've loved it. There are so many expectations and "right" ways to do it, that at some point I started feeling sick.
Planning for the wedding made me angry and I just wanted the party over with. My standard lowered and lowered because I got anxiety from planning. I'm more into the improvisation thing with my life so when I suddenly had a huge ordeal that demanded planning and simply could not be improvised I got frustrated. My husband to be is a person who dislikes improvisation and I dislike planning, so we had to work over the planning issue.
And while I know I will love the party and all the love and attention and whatnot and I'll feel like the stars are aligning and I'll love love love it - I know I won't miss the planning. Fuck the wedding bubble, it's fake! Yes, some people might love the bubble and love thinking 24/7 about their wedding, but I'm not part of that bubble and I never was.
One of my best friends is getting married in 2021, and she's already looking at wedding bouquets and colour themes and photographers and it makes me sick, because I'm just on my way out of that bubble and I don't get how she can in such advance time hype over her wedding.
Okay, I sound really really ungrateful and like an ugly friend and all, but.... I'm tired. I'm stressed. I'm anxious.
But somehow I know that day'll be one of the best ones in my life
tisdag 21 januari 2020
Once you dive in, it doesn't leave you
I'm acting again!
In a real show! Real show to which people pay money for coming watching us.
My character dies, gets shot in the head. So ironic how I got a role that dies in a way I would gladly have portrayed and come up with when I was working for the theatre school.
I swear, when you once pledge your life to the angst way, angst finds you no matter what you do. And I mean that in a good way.
I'm feeling better than I've done in a so long time. So I don't dwell in my own angst as much as I used to before, so it's fun to revisit the mindset of dying when I haven't done that in a while (for art of course. Not as in real suicide). When I write angst I keep it so strongly connected to the characters, and not me, which was the outlet and starting point everytime I was acting.
In acting, all angst came from me. I channeled it myself. In writing, I'm portaying someone else's angst in a different way. Fascinating.
Oh! I'm also in a server on a website called Discord where I've gotten tons of friends over the internet, and I've got to tell a story from our chats there, but I'll leave that for next post.
Maybe I'll post it tomorrow.
In a real show! Real show to which people pay money for coming watching us.
My character dies, gets shot in the head. So ironic how I got a role that dies in a way I would gladly have portrayed and come up with when I was working for the theatre school.
I swear, when you once pledge your life to the angst way, angst finds you no matter what you do. And I mean that in a good way.
I'm feeling better than I've done in a so long time. So I don't dwell in my own angst as much as I used to before, so it's fun to revisit the mindset of dying when I haven't done that in a while (for art of course. Not as in real suicide). When I write angst I keep it so strongly connected to the characters, and not me, which was the outlet and starting point everytime I was acting.
In acting, all angst came from me. I channeled it myself. In writing, I'm portaying someone else's angst in a different way. Fascinating.
Oh! I'm also in a server on a website called Discord where I've gotten tons of friends over the internet, and I've got to tell a story from our chats there, but I'll leave that for next post.
Maybe I'll post it tomorrow.
tisdag 14 januari 2020
What does it take to be a good writer?
Hello, it's absolutely no secret that I've taken my writing up a notch these past years, and I'm currently very very very into writing and I write fictional pieces everyday.
I'm also currently reading a book on writing, by the Fin-Swe author Karin Erlandsson, and the book is essentially about authorhood, about writing everyday as your profession and how to make your life circle around your need to write.
I do not like that book, which is a pity, since the idea is nice and it has nice parts, but the author is so harsch with her ideas and talk shit about other authors and their ideas of what writing essentially is, as if her version is the only correct one.
Writing is so very different for all people, for all authors and for all hobby writers. I puke out text in a fast speed, while others write cautiously, carefully crafting the sentences after careful worldbuilding. And neither is wrong, why doesn't she get it?
Anyway, she was very firm with one idea. Talent doesn't exist in writing, according to her. Writing is purely made out of discipline and training.
And I think so too. But we can't let talent go unnoticed either.
Murakami, one of Japan's best writers, world wide known winner of many prizes wrote a text about writing the other week, and according to him, the most important part of writing is... you guessed it: talent.
He said that without talent one can't be a good writer. Yes, you can practise, and you can train, but you won't ever be good if you lack talent.
Pretty harsch that too.
But in acting that is true. I don't think anyone can be a good actor without talent. But in writing?
I don't know. Writing is a craft, and a craft can be trained, but it's also art and art is talent.
What do you think?
I'm also currently reading a book on writing, by the Fin-Swe author Karin Erlandsson, and the book is essentially about authorhood, about writing everyday as your profession and how to make your life circle around your need to write.
I do not like that book, which is a pity, since the idea is nice and it has nice parts, but the author is so harsch with her ideas and talk shit about other authors and their ideas of what writing essentially is, as if her version is the only correct one.
Writing is so very different for all people, for all authors and for all hobby writers. I puke out text in a fast speed, while others write cautiously, carefully crafting the sentences after careful worldbuilding. And neither is wrong, why doesn't she get it?
Anyway, she was very firm with one idea. Talent doesn't exist in writing, according to her. Writing is purely made out of discipline and training.
And I think so too. But we can't let talent go unnoticed either.
Murakami, one of Japan's best writers, world wide known winner of many prizes wrote a text about writing the other week, and according to him, the most important part of writing is... you guessed it: talent.
He said that without talent one can't be a good writer. Yes, you can practise, and you can train, but you won't ever be good if you lack talent.
Pretty harsch that too.
But in acting that is true. I don't think anyone can be a good actor without talent. But in writing?
I don't know. Writing is a craft, and a craft can be trained, but it's also art and art is talent.
What do you think?
fredag 10 januari 2020
The little puppy life
Life with a little puppy is so strange! I mean, she lives with my parents, so she's not my 100% responsibility, but still, when I'm there to hang around with her, she's so... fragile! So tiny. She doesn't know anything, and when I got used to a dog who knows a lot of commandos and know how the world works it really puts one off when you suddenly got a dog who doesn't know anything.
She doesn't come to the door when someone comes inside, she doesn't bark, she doesn't expect food from the hand, she doesn't care about the cats.
But I think she's going to be really easy to train, because she is so good at taking eye contact already. Eye contact is number one in puppy training. Oh, and she's pre-pottytrained at the breeder, so she pees outside.
That is life with a little baby I guess.
But she's adorable. So, so adorable.
She doesn't come to the door when someone comes inside, she doesn't bark, she doesn't expect food from the hand, she doesn't care about the cats.
But I think she's going to be really easy to train, because she is so good at taking eye contact already. Eye contact is number one in puppy training. Oh, and she's pre-pottytrained at the breeder, so she pees outside.
That is life with a little baby I guess.
But she's adorable. So, so adorable.
onsdag 1 januari 2020
A moment at a time
A new year. New decade.
I went through a lot of pictures of myself from 2000-2010 together with my parents and even if it's not the 2010s everyone is talking about, I witnessed how I looked in 2010 there. I know how I looked but these were new pics that I don't remember being taken and
a) I had the exact same t-shit in one of the pics and I WORE THAT DAY ! That shirt was 10 fucking years old and I still wear it!!! It's still in flawless condition, fabric perfect and everything. One of my favourite shirts ever. wow
b) It was cringy. But also cute. Because I can't really hate the 15-year old me, because she didn't know better. she didn't know how to do makeup in a good way, and didn't know how to behave like an adult (because she was a teenager)
So. I think that if I in ten years look up how I was looking and behaving now, maybe she would smile at me too. I don't know. I'll be like 35 in ten years, probably have children by then and a job and life will be so much different that I don't even dare to imagine how it is
so let's not think about this new decade as a whole but rather
one year at a time
one month at a time
one week at a time
one day at a time
Happy new year <3
I went through a lot of pictures of myself from 2000-2010 together with my parents and even if it's not the 2010s everyone is talking about, I witnessed how I looked in 2010 there. I know how I looked but these were new pics that I don't remember being taken and
a) I had the exact same t-shit in one of the pics and I WORE THAT DAY ! That shirt was 10 fucking years old and I still wear it!!! It's still in flawless condition, fabric perfect and everything. One of my favourite shirts ever. wow
b) It was cringy. But also cute. Because I can't really hate the 15-year old me, because she didn't know better. she didn't know how to do makeup in a good way, and didn't know how to behave like an adult (because she was a teenager)
So. I think that if I in ten years look up how I was looking and behaving now, maybe she would smile at me too. I don't know. I'll be like 35 in ten years, probably have children by then and a job and life will be so much different that I don't even dare to imagine how it is
so let's not think about this new decade as a whole but rather
one year at a time
one month at a time
one week at a time
one day at a time
Happy new year <3
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