Tag Archives: dreams

Time to Write Your Own Reality Check, Dear Storyteller.

13 Feb

Following someone else “Writing-Routine” isn’t going to magically fill the gaps in the story or book you’re writing.

Your experiences is what color your novel, and there’s a guarantee that no one in the world will understand your story better than you.

The answers to your problems, why it might seem unbearable to write because your writer’s block is so horrible, is in yourself.

You know what you’re going through.

If you’re anything like me, you’re great at giving other people advice. Your passion seems to be catching, and you have the habit of accidentally inspiring friends to take action while you’re talking of your own dreams. You seem to be able to inspire them, that it seems they are ruthlessly pursuing their passions. You seem to be able to talk down their dreams, to earth, to the possible plane.

You start to wonder, if you’re able to inspire people so well, to solve their own problems of self-esteem, or their “can’t-do-attitudes” why the hell are you so listless? Why are you so little motivated to move the mountains required to conquer your own dreams?

It’s you.

It’s your problem. Maybe it’s a fear of success, maybe it’s the fear or rejection, maybe it’s not fear at all, but your own complacency of failure. Instead of psychoanalyzing the people around you, seeing into their souls to see their problems… maybe it’s time for a little self-reflection.

After all, you’re the only person in the world who you can be sure is actually being honest with you, which makes great character fodder.

Look to yourself, Find out your fears, your creative blocks, and what you believe you can actually achieve and move from there.

As a writer, as a creator of worlds, you literally can shape mountains if you so please, so why in the hell are you not writing? Why in the hell can’t you finish that book? Why in the hell are you worrying so much about what happens after the book is completed rather than writing the book.

You’re a dreamer, all good storytellers are… I’m not saying deny your nature. Harvest it. If you can dream of the rewards of being an wonderfully illustrious writer… you can certainly dream up a book, with conflict, character motivation, and either a resolution or new beginning for an end.

You became, or decided you were a writer for a reason.

Maybe it was because you always enjoyed reading or being told stories as a little kid… maybe you found the nature of self-reflection calming. Maybe you wrote because you had to. It was a way to escape your little reality, and now you want to share it with the world.

Whatever your original reason was, you’ve certainly forgotten it. If you’re still looking at “successful” writers to solve your problems.

Figure it out, the you that you were, is most certainly apart of the you that you are now. The you that is having problems finding the passion, most certainly can take a page out of the book of the former you that wrote for hours, tirelessly.

Introduce the Passionate You, and the slightly-bitter-having-problems-finding-that-fire You, and let them affect each other. Let the one with their boots planted firm into the ground, reach and connect with the one in the clouds, and together allow them to make your story, the reason why you started writing, the story that you have been born to tell, rain down upon the world.

It’s that simple.

You’ve lost passion, right? Find it. You’re lost in your own story? Give yourself directions. You’re having problems with ending your story? End it, all good things come to an end, and I guarantee, that your story that’s changed you over the course of writing is good enough. Some things aren’t meant to be resolved and that’s the nature of the beast. Put a bandaid over it, and carry on.

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Confession: I desperately want to act.

27 Jan Sunrise silhoutte

Shortly after in 3rd grade I was told that I was not going to be in the gifted program, because I talked too much. I was told that in the program, you could do whatever you wanted to, and got a zillion field trips… it broke my heart.

That moment became something that defined me, that has shaped my life in so many ways.

That’s when I became shy. I was afraid of talking too much. I was afraid that my mouth would screw me over, to the point, of no-return.

I guess that would make it, my first, real, original fear.

You see, I’ve always been fearless. Before I could properly walk, my Dad tells me, I was climbing and subsequently swinging from the cupboards in our kitchen. At 4 years old, I broke my neck, and heights… sort of became a problem. But I could deal, I just got a little vertigo, and then, I’d cope. Didn’t stop me from jumping off of our roof all the time, and at the neighbor’s house we’d jump out of the 2nd story window, onto a tramp at basement level.

At around 6, during a particularly high-stakes game of hide-and-go-seek, I resorted to hiding in the dryer, and my little sister started the dryer, and ran off. Claustrophobia, ensued after I had to kick out the door of the dryer to get out, and avoid getting more bruised and hot than bearable. But that only lead to some slight anxiety, when I feel trapped. Most people are anxious when trapped, it’s not a debilitating fear, and it didn’t stop me from napping in our linen closet on the shelves, in a less than 1×1 foot space.

After an encounter with a teenage boy at the not-at-all-ripe age of 3 or 4, my comfort in regards to anything of sexual nature was damaged.

At 10, as a renowned tomboy who could kick ass at any sport, and literally kick anyone’s ass, I lost my guy friends because girls became “icky” and were too weak suddenly to play with. Which lead to the ultimate distrust of the opposite gender, and consequently most people. (You have to realize, these were guys I had hung out with since I was 4, and had spent the majority of my life hanging out with them, who suddenly dropped me, due to what was under my shorts.)

At 7, when I wanted to be a ballerina, and my dad finally took me to sign up for a dance class, and we left without me being in a class because it was so goddamn expensive. I resorted to my much more achievable dream of being a rock star, and wrote a million songs, only to be told that my gift was in song-writing and not singing.

I watched movies, lots of inappropriately adult movies that a girl as impressionable as me, and willing should not have been exposed to. Which led me to confessing my love of our next-door neighbor Ben, at the age of 8, who I so did not actually. Which led us to kissing a lot because that’s what people in love in the movies did.

I determined that when I grow up I was going to own a Siberian Tiger when I grew up after a trip to the zoo at 4, when I learned that siber-toothed tigers had been extinct for a long time. (My first choice of a pet, prior.)

My dream of becoming a clothing designer was dashed when my best friend at 12 Nicole, was better at sketching designs.

My dream of being a vampire, also was dashed when I reached 13, and still had no evidence that any real vampires had ever been alive, ever.

My dream of being a stuntman, is still alive, but I know that it would freak out my Dad, considering how scared he is of me using my tax return money to buy a motorcycle.

A job as an Art Director, Casting Director, or Pyrotechnic Technician is incredibly hard to come by. In Filmstudies/Filmmaking, I quickly learned that being the director, was not exactly where I belonged… or at least not when my scaredy-cat friends refused to get behind the camera, and I had to be the talent in every movie we made, as well as direct.

After every single play I’ve been in, (including 2 different versions of A Christmas Carol, oddly enough when I hate Christmas, plus rehearsals for a Christmas Play during Halloween is lame) I’ve always been inconsolably depressed, after closing night. Not only because being on stage is exhilarating and fulfilling, but because I always miss the weird in-jokes that happen during a production while waiting in the wings. As well as the queer mischievous nature that comes while working in a completely empty theater that may or may not be haunted.

Being an Actor was my older sister’s dream. Being a singer was my younger sister’s dream. Being an artist, writer, was supposed to be my dream.

It is in ways. I will always love writing, and creating art… but it is a lonely, solitary business.

All of the things above, as well as my weirdo ability to completely memorize a movie after seeing it 2x, are factors in why I want to desperately be an actor.

Being an actor, combines so many of the things that I love in this world.

I’m a dreamer. I do want to try everything out in this world. A production, it’s magical, whether it’s film or stage, you get to create something breathtaking with weird milk-water rain, clever camera angles, waving a thing of sheet metal to create thunder and lightening. You get to tell stories (which if the above doesn’t tell you about my love of stories, I don’t know what does). You get to show real, raw truth by deceit, illusion, strings and pulleys.

I can’t say there’s anything that tells more about human nature, than people pretending to be living lives, that they don’t live, loving people they don’t love in that way, pretending to be people who they aren’t. Trying to resolve a neat little problem in 3 acts or less, all while trying to possibly fit it under an umbrella overlying theme about what it means to be human.

I love memorizing lines, I love pretending to be someone and experiencing things that I’ll probably never experience in my real life. I love that I get the chance to go into the woods to escape my mother (who isn’t actually my mother) who locked me away in a tower, and meet my brother who’s trying to help his wife conceive a child by finding a cow white as milk, a cape as red as blood, hair as yellow as corn,and a slipper as pure as gold.

It’s the stuff that dreams are made of. It’s what my dreams are made of.

I realized this last semester when I was working 50 hours a week, signed up for 18 credit hours, and still wanted to audition for my school’s production of a space-age version of Romeo and Juliet (I was hoping for the part of Mercutio, because he’s the only one I liked.), and was heartbroken when I was too busy to do it.

I miss acting. Like writing, it’s an outlet, it’s a dream, and just a little unrealistic. But good things happen. It makes me happy, no matter what little parts I get. I want to do it. Plus, I seem to be pretty good at it.

I haven’t told anyone, the extent of how much I want to strike out in California and join a wonderful community of artists, and creative types… but right now, I don’t see many other options in my dream future.  For someone who has a pretty hard times limiting their options. That’s a pretty freaking big deal.

Fighting for viable Dreams

5 Aug

I realized something today… just when I was finished a reading session with ‘The things they carried by Tim O’brien’. I really care about quite a variaty of things… acting is the door that led me into this brainwave. As you probably well know by now, I’m trying to be a writer. It’s important to me. Literature is important to me… I know that even if I never make it as a writer… I’ll still write… I’ll have to. The lose and regainment of Vinsin made me realize this.

But, I’m also an actor. I’ve been seriously in love with acting since at most the age of 7. I conciously recognized this love when my older brother was in his 6th grade play. I wanted to own the stage… I was going to learn how to dance, sing, and act. (However, I didn’t know you could do all three at a the same sime)  I’m an actor… no doubts about it. It’s deep within myself… and I doubt it’s really something that I’ll ever get rid of.

This morning, I went babysitting… the kids I babysit are nice and it was real fun. I even took pictures because I felt like it. They ate it up… I sent their mother an email of the pictures… she deserves a copy of every picture that exists of them… she’s super swell too.
I come back and my brother yells that I got 3 phonecalls while I was gone. 2 of them turned out to be related to my friend. One was to call and warn me that this acting thing was going to call because she gave them my number… the other was the acting place calling. The third was my best friend.

After talking to her, I was alright with it… than I realized she said the audition was tomorrow. I got oddly excited and I was planning on calling them until she mentioned that they need my parents permission to audition… (I’m aware that some of these are scams… which is why I researched them on the net before doing anything.)

So I mention it to my pops and he falls asleep… must have had a hard day at work. I let it slide… he’s been doing overtime… and besides he’ll have to wake up before tomorrow. I get bored… I want to run around… when it starts raining what I call a hurricane (but in reality… probably isn’t considering that we live in a land-locked desert) So we shut all power off, just in case if the lightning decides to hit our house. So I’m stuck… no phone… asleep Dad. So I read.

I read with the curtains open to let in any light and spot a branch that literally flies off of a tree… So We can’t even go outside…. I love running around in the rain. But when everyone thinks it’s okay to turn the power back on… I decide to take a break… (War books either piss me off or get me emotional.. either way it’s not good to at least pause to let it soak it.)

Then I think excitedly, “I bet I can learn an accent before the audition tomorrow!” (I have a horrendously fast learning curve… it’s weird stuff… especially if I’m actually into the stuff I’m doing.) Than I start to thinking about how I was fine with giving up Play Productions… and Improv… for the most part and realize that the only way I was able to deal with said loss, was lying to myself and saying that I couldn’t act.

(Which sounds cocky… the lying part… except that I really can act… it’s something that I discovered a few days ago when I was bored and started to silently recite an old monologue I still had memorized (you never know when you’ll need one!) while filming it on my camera… needless to say… you could tell what part I was at by my expressions… I never thought that I had this ability! It really surprised me… and I know that my voice is very accurate to whatever emotions I’m supposed to be feeling… I think it’s partly the empathetic part of me… because I can empathize with the characters’ emotions…. same thing happens when I’m writing… which is probably why people say my characters are very, very much alive)

But anyways… this made me realize that I’d be a pretty good actor… and another dream lives again! I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it to this audition or even if I’ll get in…. but I’m not nervous about it at all…. if I’m meant to make it… I will… Besides… I’m much more confident than I was in 8th ; ).

I realize that my dreams are what I really care the most about. I really care about being able to do anything I put my mind to. Which anyone can, If they really set themselves out to do it… maybe it won’t work out the first 100 times you try… but eventually you’ll get it. Which is probably why I always fight against any form of opression that is an injustice. Just Naturally Opression, Injustice and Me don’t get along… I’ll fight against any Injustice that happens to me, or someone close to me… I can’t pick my fights if injustice is involved… maybe it’s a flaw… maybe it’s a good thing…

But yeah, I care a ridiculous amount about paths that I’ll never take. I guess it’s important.. because maybe someday… my fight will help someone that wanted to take that path… but couldn’t.

Nice talking to you sweet kids
Yours Truly
♥Aspiringtobesomeone

Who says you can’t love everyone?

2 Aug

So, in case I’ve never told you fine people… My favorite movie is Moulin Rouge. This has nothing to do with anything really. I’ve been freakishly busy with everything that life decides to throw my way… I’ll have long periods of freedom… but I can’t get to the computer to work on stuff… so all of my time has seemed a waste lately. I love Moulin Rouge, I love Across the Universe too. Two fabulous movies.

Like Christian (in Moulin Rouge) I’m where I am (in mind anyways) because I’m an aspiring writer… (and that I’ve been having every song in it stuck in my head to the point that I’m even having Moulin-Rouge themed dreams) I want to do something! So far, I haven’t finished a book… it’s not that I’m not terribly interested in it… it’s just that after a while it feels like I’m obliged to keep writing it. It becomes a duty.

I can honestly and quite seriously say that I’m a slacker. I don’t mean to be… honest to god, but it just sort of happens. I find myself manipulating people to get out of work… when I felt fine doing it… maybe even enjoyed doing it. I don’t know why stuff like that happens… I’m perfectly content… then I come back to consciousness to find myself ruining it for me…

I don’t know…. life has been weird… I feel like I’m going nowhere… (most likely because there’s so much I want to do) and like I’m running out of time to do it. Maybe I’m just too aware of my mortality. I don’t like it.

I realized last night that I’m really skinny. Not that I thought I was fat… I just thought that I was getting to a normal weight… I’ve always had a grossly high-metabolism (I mean… at 10 years old… I ate 17 slices of pizza in one sitting… in a contest… me against my older brother… he won with 23 slices). I weighed 45 pounds until 5th grade…. and finally in 6th… I shot up and weighed 60 pounds…. by 9th grade I finally reached 100 pounds.

I’m not anorexic… if anything the opposite. I’ve always been told how skinny I was my whole life… so I tried to gain weight so people would stop bugging me. Last night I realized that I was the embodiment of petite. I’m pretty slim… (something that I’d been trying to convince myself that it was just because I wasn’t through growing…) and I’m 5’6″.

Which might not be considered really short….but it is for my family… we’ve just been getting taller in generations. My Dad is 6’1″… My mother was 5’10… My older brother has finally stopped growing at 6’6 1/2″…. My older sister is 6’1″…. I’m 5’6″… that’s probably why I was so convinced that I’d keep growing….

But anyways… I’ve always been told that I’m really skinny… even by my friends… who know I hate it. I hang out with a lot of kids who are mildly obese… unfortunately because of it…. I didn’t really trust their judgement so much… mostly because I thought I had finally gained enough to be considered average or healthy. I’m still skinny, pretty stick-skinny… but honestly, I’m happy with where I am. I’ll be happy if  I get fat too. I’m just happy now… all works out in the end.

I’ve just finshed ‘The Giver by Lois Lowry‘ and can I just say that this is a must-read? I’ve been reflecting a lot lately… and this book told me a lot of things that I think I knew…. but hadn’t acknowledged it conciously. Memories are what are required to gain wisdom… that much is obvious by the phrase, “Wisdom comes by experience.”

I also realized why people believe me to be wise. You may still recieve wisdom by second-hand knowledge… so long as the person you recieve that knowledge from fully understands what is said. That you are of the same mind, so to speak.

I’m an empathetic. I’ve always hated this ability because it hinders me from moving on with life as would a normal individual. I’m not saying that I’m not normal.. I’m just saying that I haven’t had the ability to mimic what my impression of most people are. But I realize now that it at least in some way allows me to absorb the wisdom that comes with experience… other peoples’ experience… though I’m sure I do not understand fully the experiences… I get something out of it… y’know?

You’re always hearing how important knowledge is… how knowledge can be power and the such. I’ve never really, truly understood it to the fullest. I’ve agreed with it, I’ve supported, I’ve preached it… but never have I understood the full extent of knowledge. It is important to seek knowledge and understanding because in some way it allows you not only to make your own choices wisely but it allows you to help other people in some way. I’m not saying that you should be a know-it-all or anything of the kind. It’s important to understand. Understanding is what makes emotions… what could make a memory have meaning.

Take for instance, you went to a ball game with somebody 5 years ago. You might remember nothing of that day… except that it made you appreciate hotdogs a lot more… because you didn’t eat anything that day until ‘so-and-so’ bought you a hotdog. You became grateful for hotdogs… you became meek and humble and grateful just for anything to eat. You felt relief and love towards the person who purchased it for you. Maybe you felt a small smidgeon of what a starving person feels like and it made you grateful for whoever played a part in giving you the ability to recieve the gift of satisfaction… say in the form of a hotdog… or whatever else.

It is important to share experiences… maybe an experience isn’t life-changing for you in any sense of the word… but it may be for someone else.

Every event in your life… every conversation… every book you’ve read… every commercial…. just every experience has created you… it’s built up your feelings and your regrets… your downfalls… your hopes and dreams… and of course you must feel grateful to whatever has made you the interesting combination that is you! It is important to experience, to savor, to share… because otherwise you could become inhuman… our ability to experience is the thing that turns us to individuals… to be able to cry because you are at the zoo and you feel terrible that the animals are locked up and away from the life that they could’ve had… if they were not captured or injuried… when another person might be entralled at the ability to see so many animals without ever being out of the country.. to be perfectly accepting and happy with the variaty of life.

This is the secret to happiness: experience everything and savor every feeling and take it deep within you and allow yourself to be open and change! Never fear change. Never fear adventure… never fear anything! Life is meant to be experienced… pain is meant to be side-by-side happiness…. So that you may experience the fullness of happiness and enjoyment. Love these abilities… love people for what they bring to you… for their wisdom… for their heartbreaks and for their abilities… for their happiness.

Who says you can’t love everyone? I’m beginning to see that it is possible. Mistakes only take place when someone’s judgement is clouded by arrogance, ignorance and misunderstanding. So go out there and do something! Experience others’ worlds by books or movies… or even blogs! Share your experiences through whatever medium presents itself… be it paint, internet, conversation, or service, or love.

Oh! In case any of you were wondering about my haircut…. it went fine. They didn’t do the exact cut I wanted… and I was kind of angry because they cut it into a pixie cut… but I’m over it. I love my hair. It really fits my personality and I’ve been getting mega-compliments and I think it’s more than them just pitying me because I look like a dyke like I thought I did before. But now, if anything, it looks more girly than my last cut… I’m proud of everyone and such. I feel like I’m where I should be.

Thanks for listening… may you live in experience and take pleasure in knowledge and learn the secret of happiness.
Love♥
-Aspiringtobesomeone