Looking Back to Look Forward (68-73)

Maybe you’ve been following me long enough to have seen one of these already, but I thought it was about time for another: Looking Back to Look Forward. As I am trying to get back into post-a-days, this seemed like a good time.

These posts are honestly mostly for me, and in case anyone has any interest in the meaning behind posts I wrote. I at least believe, I have become a better writer since my earlier posts, so some I talk about might not be the most polished creations. Feel free to just read me talking about them, but I’d also love if you felt like taking a peak to see if you can see the little diamonds in the rough of the pieces.

68. Racer Blood

In a nearby town, they have a small rodeo once per year. That year, my sister, her partner and I had decided to go. With that in mind, this post is initially just me writing about what happened in a pony’s perspective. When there, there was every size of horse, but only the larger horses did any competitions alone.

There is more to this than that though. It deals with the idea of having to accept who you are, and that there are limits to what a person might be capable of, and that is nothing to be ashamed of. It just requires figuring out what you can do. On another level, it speaks to the value of not only wishing for singular success, to be a star, but of valuing how you can feel just as validated by having success that requires a full team. In most cases, to achieve success, I honestly believe it requires more than just one person, even if it is one person who appears to be the mark of that success.

69. One Dies, One Lives

I was desperately needing to write something for a project for school and I made this. I will admit, I hope some of the mistakes I see weren’t handed in. I genuinely can’t remember if I ended up handing in something different. But, aside from the need for some differentiation of the two stories being separate and some awkward phrasing, I still love this piece. Maybe read it now if you want, before I start, so I don’t spoil anything.

The general concept I had in my mind was to write a story where you think one character will die, but find out the other dies instead, or was dead all along. Dead bodies tend to be cold, I wanted to play with that concept, to allude to him being a cold corpse, and the actual corpse being warm. There is also assumptions of people’s character from appearance, and I was trying to play with that a little, by making the girl who judged her boyfriend harshly to actually be more involved in what she accused him of doing. There is a tendency to paint boyfriends as the ones ruining relationships, and the cause of their failing, and I also wanted to flip that switch.

At the time of writing this, even if it is clunky, I really wanted to play with different styling, voices, and perspective. In particular, I wanted to give the narrator a distinct tone, and keep it third person (I had been prone to too much first person)

I’m actually contemplating doing a rewrite of this piece at some point, to make it easier to digest.

70. Cut it Out

This was for a project. The mission of the project was to create a found poem from children’s books. Specifically, I wanted to try and make it seem the reverse of child friendly, and wanted to take the words and make them darker, and elude to content for older audiences. This was way more fun than I had expected. It deals with mental crises, a character questioning how ‘good’ of a person he is, and the eeriness that can surround the night-life in a city with unsafe sectors at night.

71. Just Listen

I enjoy creating visceral pieces. Especially when in school, discovering more of the depths of writing, I would find pleasure in how gross and blunt one could be while writing poetry.

At the time, I was also feeling frustrated, because I have a food allergy with a lot of controversy that makes me feel very sick. I hadn’t realized it was the issue initially, so I had been sick for a very long time, to the point where people stopped believing me. But, I’ve never been one to puke, which is the ideal validation for proving one is sick. People are less likely to want to hear about the other end…

Long story short (short as this poem), I was frustrated in people not believing me that I was sick when I was.

72. Cup of Tea

More than a few times, I’ve written ‘random writes,’ where they are just random phrases that come to mind. I find it’s a great exercise to firstly try and use different vocabulary, as well as get rid of some of the fear of writing. This one, was a little more coherent, and honestly just sounds like a rant against society… But I still enjoy the exercise.

73. Cherished

I have no idea what sparked this poem. I might have even just found a picture of a can of sardines. My general concept was how there are things out there that many people might hate, but for the few people who will ‘cherish’ it, it makes them worth their investment by those making it available to the world.

As another side, this poem addresses how there are so many people who exist in the world (like sardines in a can), and that not everyone will love everyone. It comes to the concept of the artist, and that an artist gets their wealth from that bundle who loves their art, and not those who don’t ‘get it.’

Conclusion

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my quick explanations, and I will try my best to start post-a-days again after quite the break. May you enjoy the ride. And, always feel free to comment, I love to hear from others.

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Looking Back to Look Forward (63-67)

Now that I’ve decided to get back to daily posts, I thought why not continue with looking back at old posts. So, if you feel like it, read my blathering of what I was thinking for these early postadays.

63. Rose Coloured Glasses

I had gotten to a point where I was dwelling on all the negativity a bit too much. I had been working at my new job for about 2 months, and I wasn’t going to be going for the second year of my program in the fall. I was still (in my opinion), pretty poor at my job, and there was a new employee who had been hired for the same thing, and being much more competent than me. Thus, the need for rose-coloured glasses. Sure, it’s not good to always be painting the world as an idyllic version of itself, but every once in a while, you need to just let yourself be your own cheerleader, even sometimes beyond what you truly believe you can do, just to get past those boulders.

64. The Crying Waterfall

This piece was written a year or so before, and I just posted it due to lack of ability to think of anything. But, I’ve always had a fascination with waterfalls. For the longest time I think I might have honestly believed dragons lived behind them. Living in British Columbia, there are a decent number of waterfalls (most just small ones), and I even had one on the property I grew up on. It’s where we got our water from. I still sometimes miss how that water tasted. It was so sweet. I remember one friend in particular who would be so excited to drink our water because she said it just tasted so good.

Having watched too many cartoons, I always thought of characters crying waterfalls, thus innately thinking of waterfalls as something emotional. But then, they are also so loud and aggressive. It’s like this controlled mass of different emotions (sorry a bit dramatic). And me being prone to personifying everything, that’s the long and the short of the general idea behind this poem. I do indeed say it is very simple and not particularly exciting, but I still do love waterfalls.

65. The Boiling Kettle

This piece seems pretty transparent, though mildly convoluted and just a bunch of circles. Having drank a lot of tea, kettles are on my mind a lot, and there is definitely a tension when your waiting on it, in dire need of your cup of tea, and it seems to take so long, and it slowly gets louder and louder, until it clicks, and almost in an instant it’s silent. I will not divulge too much, but let’s be honest, I was grumpy at someone but saw it was my own fault (as it probably usually is).

66. Heart of Gold

I did write this a while ago, so I might not quite remember correctly, but I believe I just did a random image search which came up with a shiny gold heart, and thought I should write about it, and this is what my adlibbing brought me. I feel like some of the older pieces were almost more like song lyrics than what I write now. I also just really like pirates, and the word pyrite.

67. Victory

And here’s that picture I was talking about (used on the linked post).

I have always found the idea of war a fascinating one, but in particular, the psychology of it. I would think, there are not many people out there who can easily kill another human being. And though it might be easier when for a cause or when one is instructed versus by their own choice, I still feel it wouldn’t sit right. When a war is beat, does one celebrate from destroying an enemy? Or it just being over? Either way (or another entirely), there is something very solemn and dark about a field after a war.

Looking Back to Look Forward (60-62)

So, it’s been a while since I did one of these. Here, I talk about older posts, to show my thoughts a little. I decided to skip a few… either because I would rant too much, or it just didn’t seem to warrant the time to say anything about it. So, let us begin.
Hope you enjoy,
-Paro

60. Finality

This, is about someone drowning. This was intended to be much larger, but I never could figure out how to write the whole piece effectively enough. It was then going to have each bubble of oxygen show a memory that then pops and vanishes at the surface. It was going to be quite painterly… but I just couldn’t quite manage it without somehow diminishing the vision. But, I still really liked the senses this little bit conveyed from it. Maybe I’ll try again some day soon. I have a bit of an obsession with writing about water… I have had to specifically make myself stop writing about it so much.

61. Sawdust and Soul

I know this piece from the beginning seems fairly focused on religion, but I can’t say that was my main intention.

There are a few lines in here I still enjoy reading over, even if they are not incredibly elegant, I appreciate the sentiment. I think, in a lot of situations, people come to a place where something just doesn’t suit them anymore, and that was what I was mainly trying to capture. And, I was having fun making it a little sing-song. If I recall correctly, I found the image first, then wrote about it with the first thing that came to mind.

62. The Abyss

So, this piece I stole from a long time ago (still written by me), and decided to post it. I had too much fun while writing it. I just love adding such silly endings after such seriousness. And, let’s face it, I like being dramatic. This piece still entertains me.

So, there are a few more. Hope you enjoyed, and take a moment to look back at even just one. For the more sensory based one, I would suggest the first, and for a short story feel in a poem, the second. 
-Paro

Looking Back to Look Forward (51-56)

Welcome to another post where I look pack at earlier ‘postaday’s. I even have an edited version of a poem below.
I hope you enjoy,
-Paro

51. Held by Rain
This post, I wrote it a while back. This version had a few edits. But, I later did another edit, where I made rain be ‘she’. I enjoyed that it made rain into a mother figure. And, I fixed some odd phrasing. Though, I did it at almost midnight, talking on the phone with someone for input. This was due to a colleague of mine needing some more poetry for her school project (making a book by use of printing press), and liking this one (and another one), but them requiring editing.

Actually, here it is edited:

Rain drizzles down my back,

                                                making me shiver.

                                                                              Goosebumps prickle my skin.

Clenching my legs to my core.

                               My eyelashes gather

                                                                    with rain,

                                                                                       with tears,

Mind a buzzing white,

                        I look to the grey-packed sky

The rain is dear,

            her caressing touch

Consoling me,

            Telling me,

                           all will be okay

                                                I am okay

My eyes drain more

                                 for it seems, only to her,

                                                                          I can reveal

                                                                                               myself

                                                                                                             my emotion

                                                                                                                                  me

 so,

       please embrace me once more,

                                                          dear rain

It is not enormously different, but you can see that there were some definite edits.
My love for rain is pretty immense, let’s be honest. So, I really like writing about it. Though, it does get stale, so I try to not always have rainy weather. This piece in particular was actually a kind of expansion of a shorter piece I wrote. I would show that, but it is about one of my characters (from novels I am planning), and it has no context connected. And, that character, he needs context or else he makes little sense (at least in my opinion).
Last note about this piece, I am pretty sure I wrote it at 2am.

52. Grace and Aid
When I was little, there was a time that my mother was wiccan. I am unsure whether it was traditional wiccan or a variation, but it meant I got to hear and read a lot about many gods and goddesses when I was young. I would say it was mainly Indian gods and goddesses, followed by Egyptian, then Greek and Roman. At a later date, my mother got into some other forms of meditation that included a lot about chakras and energy being represented as colour. 
I remember, in particular, my mother made this image out of tissue paper on wood. It was of a goddess with six arms (could have been four). In each of her hands she held something different, and then she made use of the opacity of the tissue paper to make a scarf/shawl that draped across her. Her face was so serene. The image always seemed so gentle. I always imagined that she saw the world differently, and that was how she was always peaceful.
I would say, unintentionally, this post is inspired by that.

53. Exhaustion
I believe this post speaks for itself. I was utterly exhausted, and feeling like giving up, but as soon as people came near, I couldn’t let myself. 

54. Little Kitty
Just so you are aware, it has been months and months since I just posted something I wrote previously. But, this is one of those I did.
It was for a creative writing course. It was a practice in repetition? If not, I genuinely forget. I always found there something eerie about this poem. I suppose, it is because it implies that the cat just died. She accomplished nothing fulfilling, and died.
I can’t say that was on my mind when I wrote it. Honestly, I don’t think I had any solid thoughts in my head while I wrote this. Maybe that makes it even more eerie. Who knows. 
I still strangely enjoy it though. I also feel like, it has so little detail, you can kind of fit in the holes with whatever is relevant for you.

55. Sweetness
Would you look at that, a second post in a row that I didn’t write that day.
This was actually for another part of the same assignment as the last. This one was all about using the same word in each line, where the meaning changes a little bit in each line.
I still love this piece. It isn’t very fancy, and it is a little dark. But, I still enjoy reading it.
I even used it later in Sweck (which is a close post).

56. Truth and Release
What? A third one? This must have been a streak of writer’s block.
And, look, it’s that character I said would make little sense out of context too!
So, even if you don’t want to read this whole post, I feel you should read the last three paragraphs, even just this part: “With the tickling of the rain all seemed to release itself from his every muscle, and every strand within his mind where dark sad thoughts held on tightly, were messaged. The rain seemed to make even their small bodies relax, making them fall and disappear.”
When I wrote this, I felt the feeling so strongly while writing this. I was getting into it. This is also not even taken out of anything. This is just a random piece I wrote because I felt like writing about my characters. So, to get more context, one would have to hear me rant, or I would have to finally start writing the novels I’ve been planning.

There you have it, another bundle through. Next post… I write about Sweck. This could be interesting.
-Paro

Looking Back to Look Forward (46-50)

Would you look at this, another one! Take a look at my process for my ‘postadays’. 
I would say this is a method to make you look at earlier posts… but, honestly, I don’t think I spoke that highly of them. So, really, you can just enjoy reading my ranting about myself and my process.
-Paro (A.A.T.)

46. Heretics are Hereditary
Another random write. I feel this one is the most confusing. It really is nonsense. Maybe it’s because there is too much noise around me, but I find reading this now, I have a hard time getting through it. I kind of daze out. Though, writing this was quite enjoyable. I would still suggest you try to write one of these. Sometimes, they bring you some interesting phrases, sometimes not, but it really makes you think differently about writing.

47. The Soldier Statue
This poem, I wrote it a while back (earlier than the said date). I feel like this was one that strangely stuck with me. It was one of the first I was actually willing to show people.
One of the things I liked about this one in particular was that while writing it, I didn’t know what was going to happen. It unraveled as I wrote. Though, to be honest, that is how I mainly write. I plan to a point, but I prefer to have the story as unexpected as it would be for the reader. Of course, this can be dangerous… especially when writing a novel. But, oh is it fun. Let us be completely honest here, that is how Warzone is written (so far, and probably part of the reason why it is on hold… though, mainly not). I even had a plan before, but I went somewhere completely different. The trick is with that, I would re-plan as something unexpected happened, so I would have a new path. It was like, when you are driving somewhere, you have all these side roads, many you have never went on before, but you know your destination, and that the side roads are still in the direction you need to go.

48. Arcane Memory
Thumbs to glass. It sounds nice. But, it took me a bit to guess that I probably meant a phone. Maybe you got it right away.
In general, I do like this post. I was listening to this very light instrumental song with the sound of rain while I was writing it (it’s from a videogame… shhh). I feel like, the song enhanced this post a lot, and was the main inspiration.
The post in general was an ode to nostalgia.
I found it interesting that one of the newer generations is referred to as the nostalgia generation. Honestly, I feel this would be true for me. But, what struck me even more, was when I read this comment about that statement. It made reference to the fact that there is a generation that grew up with their developing years having fairly limited technology, but while still growing up (teen and young adult) technology started booming, and what was dear to them from their childhood is obsolete, maybe even useless now. And, these comforts from childhood are practically lost while they are in the years they require these home comforts to get through the first years of being an adult. And, so when picking up something that one used to use as a child, or do something in the method taught by a parent, it is highlighted, because of such advancement. Or, they have to relearn how to do whatever they were taught with the new technology, and so instead of feeling a pride in doing something and knowing it was passed down, there is a longing for how one once did it.

49. To Dream is to Breathe
I found this little piece while I was digging through old work. I edited it a bit (because my grammar was horrible, and it made no sense before).
I am a dreamer. I am always thinking up new creative endeavors. I plan out another project, I start another idea. I imagine its final form. But, many things are never manifested. This post, was almost just words to myself, trying to give myself hope that I could finish a project, even if it seemed very large. For instance, I have been planning 2 different magazine concepts. The one, I have been putting even more thought into, but as I tally up the tasks, I begin to feel overwhelmed. So, this post is about thinking of it as pieces you make, that you can later put together. It, to me, felt like a more manageable way of thinking about it. As well, it is about not letting things become work. To let things stay as amazing as they seemed in the beginning, that is the challenge.

50. Atlantis
Interesting. Reading this after the previous post… don’t they seem connected. I guess you can see what was going on with me pretty easily here. Oh the wonders of being overwhelmed. I have to admit, I am feeling like I have hit this point again a bit, but I do feel like I am in a better position than I was then (a little less than a year ago). I have to say, this makes me realize how much I have learned in this last year. Funny thing is, this was partially about the one magazine I was planning (which is on hold until I gain more skills, and have done some practice issues of this other one). I actually managed to gather quite a few people to help me, but I was still left with such a task that I was incapable of with my skills at the time (I needed to build a very specific style of website, which… even now, with how much I learned, I might not be able to manage).
This brings me back to my earlier statement, how I like to change paths, knowing it is to the same goal. Thinking of this Atlantis I spoke of, I think of how rocks move. You can’t really fully predict what shape it will take, but it is still made out of rocks, and will still help you be able to stand on something, and not have to always be swimming. And, then I think of how with my concept for the magazine. I was going to make it all digital, and in a very different format, but I am going back to traditional (or at least traditional inspired). And, to be honest, I prefer it always changing.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my rants, and maybe you got something out of them.
-Paro (A.A.T.)

Looking Back to Look Forward (40-45)

Time to look back at earlier ‘postaday’s I did.
-Paro

40. Warzone – Introduction
I am surprised I counted this as a ‘postaday’. I may have written this in one day, but it was not the indicated day. It was from a while back. This, I have to say is my first official attempt at writing a novel. Before this… I remember being in grade 5, in front of a Windows 98, using a ‘high-tech’ keyboard with a curve to it (still a very comfortable keyboard, just saying), and switching between a Richard Marx CD and a Bryan Adams CD, to listen to a total of 3 songs on repeat. Why I didn’t just burn a disk with the three? Who knows.
Well, you know I might have lied, I had one attempt before this. It was all written by hand, and went missing. But, this is officially the one I have gotten furthest with (125ish pages).
The first 18 pages I had typed up of this story, my external hardrive had crashed, and my printed version went missing, so they were lost and I began rewriting. To be honest, it doesn’t even seem like the same story. The plot was nothing like this one. There was a scene… I don’t think I wrote it as well as I imagined, but it was very vivid with this dark dingy almost tavern like seemingly underground series of rooms made of cement.
But, before this, it was even more different. Originally, I had a dream that brought me the idea, but Evan was a monster slayer who rode a strange wyvern, using a high-tech lance to deal with monsters in this large chasm. I am sometimes just tempted to write it as three separate stories. Just make it into a study of character in extremely different circumstances.
I must say though, they all had a similar mood… except, I am still not feeling like I quite captured it right.
(If you want to find all chapters written so far (that I have posted), you can find Warzone in the menu on the left)

41. Parachutes
Hmm… this could handle a lot of editing. Looking back, it is very different than I remember. I had this concept in my mind of how the mood was for the first bit, but I think it is too rushed to capture it. I may have to write something to try and capture the initial mood I was trying for at the time. Let’s be honest, I did not remember where I went with this, so rereading it, I began chuckling. As a note, I used to have a Bernese mountain dog. They are the most pleasant dogs. If you need a big dog you want as a your giant living stuffy/plushy, they may be what you are looking for. We had two for a bit, but couldn’t afford feeding both, so we kept Steffy. She was very small for a Bernese mountain dog. Her brother, Reno, was very large. If I had the space and could afford the amount of chow, I would probably have one.
Back to my earlier statement, I believe, if it was slowed down, to get into almost microscopic detail, and then went to a view of the whole city, and the large building, I think that would have helped. This seems like a first draft.

42. Decay
This poem… I made it for my Social Studies class mainly while I was waiting for my piano lesson (at least the English version). My teacher even memorized it. I still feel overly attached to it. I have to say, I wasn’t doing well the year I wrote this in (as noted in post, written a while back). I hadn’t realized I couldn’t have gluten… so I was constantly extremely emotional due to not being able to absorb the nutrients from my food properly, and always tired, and constantly unable to think clearly. I felt like I was on a foggy road in the winter, having walked for hours, trying to get home to eat and sleep, all the time. I feel strangely prickly and tired just thinking about it. It isn’t a perfect poem, but I feel like it works well.

43. Nighttime is a Mood
I wrote this after walking back home at night, and I did indeed hear the a cackle of a laugh, the type that you hear in your marrow. Though, I didn’t see where it came from.
I must say, I can tell this was still close to when I was talking a creative writing class. I seemed to be playing with imagery. I enjoy the bit in the quotes at the bottom. I would say this one is worth looking back to, if you are going to read any of the posts I’m talking about here.

44. Yellow and Brown World
I see the bottom part of this post seems to have gotten a little messed up…
So, this one, I found this on my ipodtouch from a while back. I had written it during or after reading 1984. That probably makes sense. And that really is all the explaining it needs.
This post makes me think I should start adding in images again… though, I suppose with new internet laws, I would have to probably use all my own images…

45. Wonderland
I love colour, and I love forest like areas. This was me having a good time. I dare say, I must write more things like this. I really enjoy creating environments. I think I need to just do a bundle of scenes with very different scenery.
Another one I feel is more worth looking back at than others.
As you can guess from the title, it is Alice in Wonderland inspired.

Hmm… I was getting a more rant-y than usual. I hope you enjoyed it.
-Paro

Looking Back to Look Forward (36-39)

Would you look at this, I am finally writing another one of these.
Here, I look back at previous posts, and give a little insight into what I was thinking while writing them. It also lets you find my older posts easier. I hope you enjoy.
-Paro

36. Dr. Cornelius Johnston -July, 30, 2014
Looking back at this post… there are some very obvious errors. I used similar, but wrong words. It strangely works for the concept. When I wrote this, I had been working at my new job for a little over a month. It was becoming routine. I was finding myself not feeling entirely convinced I liked routine. Also, I was really starting to wonder if I should be tested for ADHD, and the idea of medication made me very nervous… so, in my chicken like fashion, I haven’t even gotten it checked yet. So, I suppose this post was really just me giving a rant to release some pent up energy.

37. The Great Feat of the Morning
First piece of business, I did not write this in the morning. Actually, it was when I should have been going to sleep, barely awake. I remember trying so hard to keep myself awake enough to write this. I wanted sleep so bad. I remember thinking of how cozy my blankets would be (and luckily, the air conditioner made it so they wouldn’t be way too hot). I don’t know why, but when I wrote this, I thought it was really bad. I felt almost ashamed. Reading it now, I don’t see anything particularly wrong with it… maybe I just lowered my standards… yeah, sorry about that… Fun fact, I didn’t drink coffee until about a year and a half ago.

38. Basic Beauty
Doesn’t ‘hapless horror’ have a nice ring to it? Let’s be honest, I didn’t know what hapless meant, I had to look it up, and just decided it made enough sense I could leave it. There is something to be said about natural beauty, and internal beauty. It is a bit like charisma, you can’t entirely explain it. I don’t think this post was referring to anyone in particular… I just started writing and watched it unfold. I find, some of the best writing comes when you don’t even stop to think what and why you are writing. I was just having a good time with this post. I hope you had a good time reading it. And, if you haven’t… I feel like it is one worth looking at.

38. Solitude
I enjoy that I didn’t say guitar once. I like guitars. I am pretty short, and the guitar I have is pretty big, so I always enjoy how it fills my arms. It makes it feel strangely intimate. And, I’ve always had a tendency to get overly attached to instruments. They seem living to me. This post is a bit of an ode to the relationship one has with their instrument, and how it becomes their musical and emotional support, especially when by one’s self on the stage. I can’t say I’ve ever performed alone on stage (well, other than a piano performance I was required to do), but there is a different tone to it. It really brings attention to that relationship between person and instrument. Though, I always thought about how a pianist has to bond with an instrument in such a short time… maybe I’ll expand on that on my next post.

39. False Advertising
I have to admit, I still have a hard time finding people who ‘speak the same language’ as me. I’ve had many occasions where people stare at me, very attentively, but you can see in their eyes that they don’t understand anything coming out of my mouth. But, because of having a hard time with this, when it seems like someone understands, I tend to talk so excitedly. I just don’t shut up. And, it is the worst, when you discover, even they don’t speak the same language. I would assume most people have this issue. This post was addressing this issue. I have to be honest, I have been on the other side as well, trying so hard to understand, but not understanding at all. It is a very strange feeling. I always feel like I am letting them down.

Well… that seemed a little more rant like than usual. I will try and write some more of these in the next while. I hope you enjoyed this one.
-Paro