Not Another One!

Once upon a time there was a pin.

This is as far as I got. What's an author without an idea to write about? Or rather what's an author without the ability to create ideas to write about? Where do ideas come from? Surely, they aren't simply conjured up by our unlimited imagination. Because, if they were then I wouldn't be sitting here writing yet another post about having writer's block.

Since I moved back to the States, I say move back only because I was born here. I should say, since I moved to the States, I have found myself immersed in a world of unlimited possibilities. Only problem is, those unlimited possibilities have not lent themselves to my writing. I still remain without the ability to form a solid idea that could unfold into an amazing, or at least, an acceptable story.

Perhaps, I'm trying too hard? Can a writer write too much? And if a writer has nothing to write, or does not have the ability to write, can this person be called a writer? Is it fair to assume that all writers should have an idea of what they want to write about? I have plenty of ideas, some of them I've written down and archived. Some of my ideas are simply ideas of having ideas. It's a vicious loop, a nightmare ride that you can't get off of unless you plummet to your doom and wake up in a cold sweat. If you're lucky enough you may even be able to tweet about it.

Is it possible to dream tweet? I've done it twice. I've dreamed and then, barely awake, turned on my phone and tweeted about it. They say your mind works in mysterious ways. I say it's the lack of proper sleep, the obsession to keep my followers up to date about my mundane existence, my bad habit of sleeping with my phone by my bed side table, that truly contributes to my so called "genius".

Maybe I'm being too hard on myself, perhaps I should just let things happen. After all I work better when I'm not aware of it. Case in point, this post. No, I'm not dream blogging. But I am half awake, or half asleep, depending on your time zone. Guess it does help to pour out all your thoughts, clear your mind of the muddle. Who knows, I may end up writing the next best seller tomorrow? ... Baby steps.

xoxo
The Girl With The Kaleidoscope

Living Vicariously Through

Living Vicariously Through

by The Girl With The Kaleidoscope

Her eyes pop open, she sighs contently, turns over and closes her eyes once again. "I miss you," she whispers out as she falls back into another dream.

When you miss someone long enough, you begin to dream about them.  Manifestations of the heart's desire. This particular dream is of her and her boyfriend on the beach. Want to see what her heart's desire is? let's take a look. Shh ... We wouldn't want to wake her.

The sea water washes over her feet, she wriggles her toes in the cool sand, her eyes are focused on the horizon and the soft light of the sun illuminates her beautiful features. The breeze from the ocean blows her head scarf, she lifts her face slightly and breathes in the fresh salty air. A chill runs down her spine, so she wraps her arms around her body in a feeble attempt to warm herself. She's not expecting anyone, so when a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her in for a passionate embrace, she squeals and nearly elbows the intruder in the ribs.

She's frowning slightly. It's amazing how deceptive a facial expression can be. If I didn't know any better, I would think she was having a less than pleasant dream.

She's smiling again.

She's spun around and is faced with a huge mischievous grin, "hey" he says. 
She slaps him playfully on the shoulder, "you jerk! You gave me a fright!" 
He raises his eyebrow, "you gave me a fright?" He chuckles at her choice of words. 
She pouts at his teasing, "you're mean". 
He leans down and kisses her lovingly on the forehead, "you look cute when you pout."

This dream is beginning to hurt my teeth! The sweetness it's exhuming is nauseating! I love a good romantic just as much as the next person, but this dream is verging on Once Upon A Time, but without the cool bad guys and evil witches. ... But let's see where this goes, I'm an optimist, someone is gonna meet some kind of doom I'm sure.

It's dark now, they're at a barbeque with a bunch of friends, she's nowhere to be spotted. He's by the barbeque pit making up a few plates.
"Aaaaaah!", her laughter echoes in the moonlight. She's being chased by one of her girlfriends.
"I swear I'm gonna bury your head in the sand when I catch you!" Her girlfriend jokes, but the look in her eyes belies the tone in her voice. 
"IF you catch me, slow poke!"

From my very keen observations, turning over in your sleep while you are dreaming tends to change the dream, shifts it a little.

It's pitch black and the beach is deserted.

Now, we're getting somewhere! This is where the action begins!

Not a soul in sight, not even a sound, but for the soft whispers and playful chuckles. A spotlight suddenly shines down on the loving pair. They're in each other's embrace, rocking slowly to the rhythm of the sea waves. The contrast of the pitch blackness of the ocean, and the bright illumination of the spotlight gives an oddly romantic feel to the scene. It's quiet, serene and peaceful. He has so much love for her, he holds her tight and places feather like kisses on her cheek and forehead. She's in a dream, she's exactly where she belongs, and she's loving it.

Aw! Hell! Now, I feel like an ass for hoping something bad would happen. Bah!

She's waking up now. Guess it's time I make myself scarce. As I fade into the wallpaper, I watch the smile she woke up with slowly fade away. She looks around her room and realizes she is not in her dream. He's not going to be there with her, the distance of two countries keeping them apart. An unexpected whimper escapes her throat and she squeezes her eyes shut, a feeble attempt at going back to sleep, back to her dream. But she can't, as much as she would love to, she can't.

"Well, better go shower and head downstairs. Try to get some work done." She sighs.

I feel for her, I really do. But at least she gets to go to sleep and dream, that's more than what I can say for myself.

Wake Up and Smell the Roses!

 Wake Up and Smell the Roses!

by The Girl With The Kaleidoscope

She struggles to figure out where to begin.

It's not easy starting over, turning a brand new page and beginning a new chapter. Those first words are always the hardest to compose. Your mind literally goes blank and you can't help but wonder, am I where I'm supposed to be?

Is what I want to do, truly what I should be doing? She can't help but doubt herself and her choices. Dreams are foolish, she tries to convince her mind as it wanders to yet another imaginary possibility. They are hypocritical, unattainable and selfish!

But we still have them, we jot them down and spend every waking hour daydreaming about the possibilities and the 'what ifs'.

Money, fame, fortune, a hot new boyfriend, a mansion by Disney World. All bullshit! Dreams are just a way of letting you know that these are the things you will never truly have. Wake the fuck up and live reality!

It's frustrating, and the tears in her eyes sting like acid.

Problem with reality is that it's bleak and dark and disgusting! It smells of piss and blood and heartache, and who the hell wants to be a part of that?! Who wants to walk in the muck of reality when they can swim in the fresh waters of dreams?

She can't seem to make up her mind, though, do I really want to be here or there? Do I want to continue dreaming, or do I want to suck it up and tread through the muck?

Darling, you don't have a choice in the matter. Reality of the situation, is that it's not about what you want, but what needs to be. And reality needs to be. Being stinky, bloody, dirty and depressed is what needs to be. There's no escaping it. No point of even trying.

But for how long can I keep up with this reality?

Her questions and doubts will probably never be answered. She will probably continue to question, continue to dream. At least until reality sinks in and her dreams become another distant memory, never to be exhumed again. She will walk through life just like the rest of the world. In a dream like state of mind.

Note from the author: Sometimes I disassociate myself from me for a brief moment while writing a personal blog post.