Self-Destroy
03 Sep 2011 Leave a Comment
in Dreams Tags: anime, artists way, claymore, creativity, yoma
I have been challenged to find a visual representation of that voice in my head that tells me I’m no good and post it somewhere I can see it and every time I say something disparaging about the things I do or think or create or say, I’m supposed to look at it and tell it to back off… or something. The silly things I subject myself to in order to feel sane again.
Luckily, I’ve been watching a ton of anime, and some of my favorite shows and movies have really great monsters for me to choose from. The most recent show I’ve been getting into is Claymore, about a group of warrior women who are half human and half “Yoma,” a kind of monster. In the show there has been a plague of full Yomas devouring humans as they travel from town to town, disguising themselves as the people they consume. Claymores are hired to kill the Yomas, since they’re the only things that can sense when there is a Yoma disguised as a human. So when the Claymore are about to kill a Yoma, they let their Yoma-ness come out and suddenly they go from cold and beautiful to angry and horrible.
I’m going to post this picture of a Yoma right where I can see it so that whenever I start feeling like everything I do is stupid, I can flick it or insult it or put a voodoo pin in it or something.
30 Aug 2011 Leave a Comment
in Dreams Tags: creativity, potential, someday
I know that somewhere inside of me there is a great mind looking to express itself. My work and my studies reflect only a small portion of this. I know that I have really great ideas and great things to contribute to the world. And someday I’ll be able to shine the way I think I should be shining. Someday.
Coriander
21 Aug 2011 3 Comments
in Dreams Tags: creativity, theater, writers block, writing
I started writing a play years ago, right after I came back from living abroad in London. I was going to write about a family of women who were living without the presence of a father figure. It would be set in some American country town somewhere and I was writing everything with this Twain-like drawl. Even though the teenagers were modern day adolescents, in this world, hand written letters were still the thing to do. For some reason, this family was absent of technology, just because it didn’t interest them at all. Reading it again, I wonder if in my mind, these characters just enjoyed the romance of a world that is less technical, less modern, where people build their own houses and grow their own food. I don’t know when that time exists or where this place is that I was creating.
I think I enjoyed that about being a playwright (before I wanted to set everything I wrote on fire). If I didn’t know where it was that I was writing about, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t necessarily writing about a place, I was writing about something I felt or believed about the world. The youngest child, to me represented a naive sense of loyalty to ones family or childhood values. The adolescent young woman maybe represented a reflection of who I thought I was: an angsty, lonely girl trying to make something of herself in a world full of rejection (she wants to be a writer). And the mother character perhaps represents an ideal womanhood. Strength, grace, simple elegance, manners.
I’m a horribly insecure writer. I want to write this again. I want to throw myself into it and write and play with that weird drawl I was constructing years ago. But damn it, I don’t want to show it to people and realize that I’m a really truly bad writer. Which is difficult because the wonder of writing a play is seeing it performed and read aloud. Is there a way that I can just do this in the comfort of my own bedroom with a few very well trusted friends? I would just like to enjoy the act of writing again. It meant… It means so much to me… present tense.
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