Wednesday, January 14, 2009

The Scribbler

A writer is crazy and is always exaggerating. She is highly imaginative and knows the art of lying somehow. A writer emotes easily, laughs at the silliest jokes, appreciates everything she sees and feels because somehow that is part of life and that will be the next topic of her paper. She sees all of those tiny things like a speck of dust and will make a big deal out of it just because she needs to produce something on paper. A writer has a third eye and sees all of what the others don’t. She sees the beauty that lies within the unpaved road and is able to spot beyond those hard rocks. She looks at all things differently and over stresses everything, treats everything on its extreme, drowns herself to words and unspoken ideas and later on sits in front of a clean pad paper. She holds then pen on her right hand, fingers excited to play, pushes the pen while her heavy head rests on her left palm, reflects deeply while imagining that she is somewhere place else with someone important, thinks about her only inspiration and the aspiration to always make him proud and happy, bows down and concludes that mental blocking happens, cheeks blushing of slim dissatisfaction, tsktsk-ing miserably, trying to escape reality, sighs unfathomably, erases what she’ve written a while ago, realizes that some words just don’t contain exactly what she wants to impart, writes again, unpushes the pen, crumples the paper and piles it to the mountain of paper on her side, pushes the pen again this time with determination and a promise to write something that shall entertain and will reveal slight of herself and then writes once more.

A writer is emotional, allowing herself to cry while pouring herself out in letters. She cries just because of her love for words and because of that satisfaction only writers understand. She is irrational and biased, writing about what she loves and what she hates and drawing a worn-out track between the paths of those two, clearly distinguishing and separating one from the other. A writer doesn’t care much about what others think about her work. Yes, it matters, but her focus is on how she will make the most out of her inscriptions. A writer crafts all of the words she know so that she will make a masterpiece and it will be something like wine whose aroma acts like a drug which makes the writer more addicted and crazier. A writer believes that every dream comes true when it terms to writing. She uses the ability to escape from the pitiful reality only to be revived in that sweet wonderful world of mind's eye where every wish draws closer to genuineness. A writer breathes and with every breath she takes is the desperation to be read, to be appreciated, to be recognized, to be satisfied.

A writer is expressive. She hugs all the expressions she need to say and shouts it to the world. She is brave to face what she cannot face ordinarily. She connects events and figures out the reason about everything which happens. A writer is always out of her mind and is dying to write while watching the television, understanding nuclear fusion, listening to the music, stopping herself from being ballistic, taking a bath, feeding the cat, talking on the phone, eating ice cream on a cone, solving a Math equation, watching Jimmy Neutron, cleaning the house, catching the mouse, while idle. She writes and writes and writes just because she wants to.