Speed Writing Week 14

My final speed writing session for the semester to the music of Klaus Schulze:

Joined more than any others can be, not sisters, not lovers, just friends, closer than anyone. Wifey, besty, whatever label you want to place on us is just fine, joined at the hip, and I wouldn't want it any other way. The only person who will always be guaranteed to text back, the one who I can bank on to have the words to cheer me up, baking our favorite naughty food, hanging out whenever we feel we want to, comfortable enough in each others presence that we don't need to talk every few seconds...we can just enjoy the silence. Favors are no longer favors, as we'd do anything for one another without reservations or complaints. The easiest thing in the world. We should have been sisters, I mean really. The one thing that could improve is the distance, between our houses that is. What an annoyance having to sit in a box for half an hour before we can meet up. (just to butt in I can't believe how disgustingly girly and teenage this sounds) anyhoo, what need more be said? Friendship like this is really the most precious thing - screw 'relationships' or lovers, they always come and go but when you click with that one person and just get along like its the most natural thing in the world, when they are truly your best friend, that's when precious things happen. We're lucky really, to live in a part of the world where people can stay close to those who mean the most, even when we are on other sides of the world we can be just as close as if we're standing next to eachother. Distance doesn't matter. And there's no worry that they might run off with someone else, cause if they do it's the best thing ever and will only provide us with more juicy material for late night conversations! Oh dear, this girly stuff is making me feel ill. Well, yes, friendship, besties, what would we do without them?

~That is all :o)

Week 13 Speed Writing

Talking and writing is no longer a problem for me in front of everyone. I'm one of those lucky people who has no problem getting up and blabbing on about stuff in front of any and everyone. This time around though I actually enjoyed what I was talking about. It's nice to be creative- or rather to be allowed to be creative and be assessed for it at uni. It seems to be becoming rarer and rarer that students are able to voice their own ideas and come up with crazy concepts that are actually accepted and thought on by others. It has restored my faith to a degree in Arts courses, proving that not all the units are about writing essays on theories from old dead guys. I like writing and I like talking, so when these two things come together in a creative space and people actually are interested in what i have to say the feeling is wonderful. And that I can gain marks and credits by using my imagination and utilising what we have learnt the feeling is even better. I like this music. I hope I'll be able to continue being creative and gaining something for it in the future. It would be terrible to go back to the monotony of writing about stuff I don't care about. That music was cool. Likey. Now this sounds like something from Myst. Anyway, back to the career thing, I thought getting an Arts degree would let me be a lot more creative than I've been allowed. Essays, reports, analysis, and the like rot the brain after a short while, and I've often thought how they will help me at all in the acting world. Truth is I don't think they will. This course has been interesting at least. I like using my imagination and having people care about what I come up with. Or even if they don't care at least they listen. People are very good actors even if they don't realise it. We all sit and listen to each other and smile and nod even if we couldn't care less about what the other person is saying. How nice. This music is still cool, kinda creeping me out now. Still likey. Errr...yes acting. Well even though we all are trained and told to be respectful when another person is talking, its nice to have attention and nods that make you feel like what you have come up with is a worthwhile idea. I wish more units would include a creative element that would allow us to use our own ideas rather than always having to talk about someone else's. Anyway, I'll just keep telling myself only two years left, half way through this monotony then I can use what's left of my imagination and free will to be as creative or as boring as I please. This music is trippy. It made me rant...interesting.

Week 12 Speed Writing

Only written to the first section of music. I ran out of ideas when the second piece began.

Forgetfullness is a terrible thing. What would it be like to not remember the ones you love? But you almost forget what they look like, sound like, smell like anyway when you never see them. If a person is not around, if they are not influencing you, guiding you, shaping you, they have no effect on you at all and therefore their memory slowly fades. They become a murmur in the back of your mind. An echo of your past. A fading image you so long to recall. There name on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach, out of sight, out of mind. What can be done? They'll probably die and you wouldn't even know. If you don't know how can you care...? Should you care? You never see them, never talk to them, have to remember to think about them on a regular basis or they'd be gone from your conscious completely. And what if you were to pass them in the street? Would you recognise them? More importantly would they recognise you? Can they see you from above? Reach out and perhaps they'll touch you, not physically but with some part of their love that can never fade. The connection that brings us all together is ever present...we just have to open ourselves to its touch. Or reach out with a thought, find something that reminds you of the one you loved so dearly, and let go of all thought and reason. Allow your imagination, your spirit, your soul to feel, un-mediated by the rationality of reality. The world beyond us is much more powerful than anything we have ever experienced or anything we can imagine. It's just a matter of opening oneself to the experience that is longing to re-connect us with one another. Vulnerability, fear and insecurity will allow us to reach out - we must be stripped bare to feel the raw energy of love. When you think of them next time, don't check yourself, just let go. Let them take you on a journey through your own consciouce, your memory, your soul.

Writing to Music Week 11

Jane Doe is happy in her corner. it's dark there and safe. Hidden from the world. She can hear people coaxing her out but she won't leave her shell. She knows better that to peer out into the dangerous and fast moving world that would sooner have her working her life away with no real friends and no idea of who she is. No, it's safer here in the dark, where her thoughts are her own and no one can touch her. But as the outside world creeps in, the pressure to look out becomes more and more, mounting on her conscious. As sounds and music penetrate her darkness, her eyes begin to open. No! Jane Doe snaps then shut knowing all to well what those sounds could do to her. The temptation mounts as the enticing music is accompanied by smells of wondrous things, fragrances that tickle her memory and rush into her brain, fizzing and stirring something within her. Jane Doe tries to hold them back, desperately clinging to the darkness that has guarded and protected her, but the sensations are too much to ignore. Again her senses take over and she begins to uncoil. She has to cover her eyes as they begin to strain open, the curiosity to much to bear. The sensations come flooding in, the sounds, the smells and then the colours. As her eyes snap open the colours and lights burn her to the core, dancing and swirling and embracing her on every side. Her body takes a moment to adjust, this new environment is so alive and moves so fast her senses are having trouble making sense of it. Movement is next, as her body uncoils she feels a blinding need to move forward, to move with the lights, towards the smells, with the music. But her body doesn't remember how to move itself. A leg an arm...a finger perhaps should be the starting point? Warmth trickles down into her limbs and Jane Doe can feel a fizzing tickling her fingers and toes. Tickling back she wiggles her fingers, her hands, her toes, her feet. Her body instinctively moves upwards, rising, rising, falling, falling. But it won't work, the darkness has shielded her for so long, her soul can't cope with anything else. She falls back down, back to the ground, in a heap. As she hits the ground everything flashes to a halt. There is no more music, no more smells, no more glorious sensations to tickle her senses. The only thing left is to coil up again, to regain that state of safety within the dark abyss. Back down she goes, curling up into the smallest little creature so no other disturbances can reach her. Back into the familiarity of being disconnected from the world. No lights, no sounds, no smells, no feelings, no tastes, no nothing. Just a deep, unending slumber of the mind and body that nothing can coax her out of. Jane Doe has only ever felt truly safe here in this state. Contentment washes over her as the darkness regains its hold. Why she uncoiled for that meaningless taste of the outside she will never know. The memories of that disturbance fade away, like everything else, outwards towards the nothingness that surrounds her. She is safe now. Here things only flow out not in. The dark sweeps away all fears and anxieties, away where they can't hurt her any more. Nothing can penetrate her here. Nothing.