The Journal
12 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment
in Creative Writing - Or So I Assumed, Home Tags: 2011, Black, First-timers, Hypocrisy, Individuality, Journalism, Pressure, Rejuvenation of the Renaissance, Work, Youth
I like writing in my journal. It helps me keep track of my life over the years despite the intervals being utterly irregular. It helps me recollect my memories, learn from my mistakes, pat myself on the back occasionally over a few achievements. It makes me laugh, cry or even crib when reading certain entries. I began maintaining a journal since I was eleven solely based on my passion to write.
***
She liked to write. She thought that she was good at it. Dumb headed twat. Why did she not realise her true potential? Why did she not realise that she cannot write and what people say about her writing is a whole load of horse shit? After all, what became of that seventy odd poems of hers? Flushed down the toilet eh?
***
As a result of my like for writing, which over a period of time grew to love, I decided to make a career out of it. A journalist. Not as prestigious as it may sound: severely underpaid and awfully overworked. But Kitty, life was good. I enjoyed what I did so much that that the little smoke-filled wooden box became home. Life was indeed good. I had never been happier.
***
She always wanted to write about lifestyle, maybe a little on fashion – despite her minuscule knowledge on the subject and unforgivable fashion faux pas - as opposed to heavy-weight articles that completely changed her “style” of writing. But then again, who said that she could write? Wasn’t that a self-made, self-believed delusion?
***
Her passion for writing made her a journalist. For a while at least, before she succumbed once more to the pressures of education and academics. She knew that she is not a “book-person”. She apparently considered herself, “street-smart”. Between you and I Kitty, she was neither. She was just dumb.
***
Kitty, today I am not myself. I feel dyslexic.
***
The Power of Music: Resonance
01 Oct 2010 6 Comments
in Creative Writing - Or So I Assumed, Home Tags: 2010, Blissfully Beautiful, Rejuvenation of the Renaissance, Women
The resonance makes all present do
As they feel. The Art that is true
Has preached and instilled in me
Such virtues. Indebted to them is me.
The resonance makes some gaze in to
The distant. Dream of what I no not.
Others engage in activities they call
Their own. Some in slumber.
Maketh it go by music I tried.
Yet in vain lest I should’ve known.
‘Tis the Art that determined;
Not one’s own appraisals.
The resonance drives some down
A path to reality. The others down
What is beautiful, serene and ever
Tranquil. Some reside in slumber.
The resonance bring peace of mind
To some. The others attempt at
Portraying pieces of their minds
To others. Alas. The motive lost.
October 01, 2010
2209h
The Girl in the Orange House
04 Apr 2010 1 Comment
in Creative Writing - Or So I Assumed, Home Tags: 2010, Black, Blogging, Miserable
The girl who lived in the orange house
had everything and more that she could ask for.
Or so she thought.
Most of her life was lived in speculation
and what was required by others.
What suited others best suited her.
Others’ happiness was equivalent to hers.
Came one day when she paid attention to herself.
Alas, the moment the decision was made,
she knew she had done wrong.
I knew I had failed once more.
I knew I had done wrong all over again.
I knew I should’ve not shown the way.
I am the girl in the orange house.
By Senashia Ekanayake (1755h | April 4 2010)
