Tag Archives: Feelings

Surrealist feelings

I was still feeling a little off when I wrote the earlier entry. I’m not sure what I wanted to say exactly. Maybe it all was the effect of all the medicines. Maybe I should erase it, but I don’t want to. I’m recording my struggles trying to write and bizarre entries are part of it.

When I’m sick with the flu or any feverish illness, I get into a delirious state even if it’s a non-flu flu. I used to get the weirdest dreams that reminded me of the Surrealists. Have anybody ever seen Luis Buñuel‘s Un perrro andaluz? I saw it at New York’s MoMA a couple of years back. That’s the kind of dream I’m talking about.

Luis Buñuel caricature-like ilustración

Luis Buñuel by El Humilde Fotero del Pánico

They’d be perfect if I actually manage to remember them, but all I could recall are incoherent pieces and I’m not sure I’ll be able to use them in any way.

I’m not the kind of person that wakes up and write all her dreams. Never did it before and I won’t start now. However, sometimes I wish I were, because I’d have a journal filled with hundreds of ideas ready for me to write about. Or maybe not.

Meanwhile I’m still unable to write and wishing ardently I’d be able to.


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Falling into autumn


Fall is here! That’s the reason I’m so happy, happy, happy people. Fall, or autumn as I actually like to call it because sometimes I like to play the snob, is my favorite season of them all. It has to do with the turning leaves. I just love the colors. It’s a way for Mother nature to create art before a really awful season. And nature creating art is a really big deal, I mean, will art being man-made and all.

Several leaves in autumn's colors covered with the morning dew

Autumn maple leaves by Rosendahl

But I digress. This season I’ll expect to do the fall cleaning. Every year I feel this huge need to do a deep cleaning in my house bu this time. It’s stronger than in any other season. Maybe it’s a pre-winter thing. I’m finding very curious things that I’ve forgotten in almost a year, but nothing that actually inspire me to write.

An autumn leave close-up

Autumn is in the detail by Mark Cummins (www.ruffrootcreative.com)

I have not written anything at all since spring. Summer turned out to be chaotic and I’ve not recovered from it. Organization has never been my forte, but since my baby was born I’ve tried to set up some order for her sake. It worked pretty much fine until last summer.

Maple trees, fall foliage, Quebec City

Maple trees, fall foliage, Quebec City by Cary Bass

Having a bunch of people in my house didn’t help to bring order to my life. It did manage to help me finish my Jane Austen Movie Marathon, but what about my writing? Maybe I’m scared to death about the exposition it may bring my way. I shouldn’t be worried, right? Then why am I? Meanwhile, I’m enjoy autumn and the energy it filling me in. Who knows maybe I’m able to write after I get tire of cleaning.


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Out of Place

Orange leaf among green leaves

Have you ever feel out-of-place? I have. Recently actually. I went to my former employment’s Christmas party. I was looking forward to meet my former co-worker and was very excited to share with them but the moment I set foot in there I felt completely out-of-place. We don’t have anything in common anymore. There was nothing we could talk about besides really bothersome small talk. Working mothers were the worst because they make me feel like a failure for having “deserted” work even if it was a dead-end job and one I loathed.  If only I were able to transform my feelings into a killer writing. I don’t care if it’s a poem, a short story, or a novel. Thus those feelings would be worth having.

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