Until next time


I promised myself not to write more personal posts, but right now I’m happy. Very happy, and it’s a little unusual. I must say I don’t quite know what’s going on. As you can see by my previous posts my inspiration can impossibly come from something bright and cheerful, so my mind is deserted. To try to adjust to this new type of living I’m searching for something interesting to write about, but there’s already too much writing about the incredible happy couples and singles in the world, and it sickens me. It disgusts me, knowing that people out there are happy, and I’m not. Right now I am, but there are other people who are where I used to be. They are the ones I want to reach to.
It’s going to take some time to get my imagination going again, so I am truly sorry if you won’t hear from me in a while.

Now to the matter I really wanted to write about.
I love my shelf right now. It’s next to my desk, almost extending it on the far right. Stacked with books, notes, folders, old coffee cups, and dictionaries I love staring at it. Currently I’ve filled it with books on photography, America (because I wish to study there), and uncountable novels which have marked the world. Brönte, Collett, Austen, Hamsun, Sophocles, Shakespeare, Woolf, and a British version of Jane Eyre, recently watched. All the novels I’ve read, all the knowledge I’ve acquired, and those aren’t all of them! There is so much more I want to read, but time fools me. Please, send me titles of books I should get my eyes in, I want it all!


While We're Paused...

Every writer has dealt with that massive, invisible beast that plants itself squarely on our desks, preferably in front of our computer screens, and leers at us in a mocking sort of way, just daring us to get anything accomplished.  Sometimes this beast teams up with Facebook or another soul-sucking website and we lose hours without knowing where they’ve gone.

And our story sits tragically abandoned.

There are lots of ways to get around writer’s block.  We all have our tried and true methods, so I  thought I’d contribute a couple of mine.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes (quite frequently, actually) I just need to get away from my work.  And I don’t mean Facebook away or even read-a-good-book away.  Those have their places (especially the latter).  But little treats that allow me the sense of escape can make all the difference when it’s…

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Children of Divorce

There are many of us, the children born in a divorce. Some might call us lucky; we never had to go through the dividing of a once whole family. We wouldn’t have to wonder what we did wrong, what we said, or what we could have done to make it all work. Don’t mind us, we do only have to live through a life where we’ve never had a whole family. Never had a moment of everything being at its proper place. The dream will never be complete.
We have it better because when someone asks for your dad, you don’t know who to refer to. What a benefit we have, knowing all transportation systems between the parents’ houses by heart. How fortunate we are, being born with the features they hate about each other. We are their constant nightmare, reminding them of their former love, their past. They cannot escape us. We are the reminder they never wished for. Do not mind us, the kids who will never know who they are because their personality traits are despised by both sides. We cannot grow as we have no ground to stand on. Where do we come from; who do we belong to? These are questions that haunt us on the midst of the day. We have no place to escape, no one to turn to.
Ask a one of us to define Good and Evil. We will answer vaguely as we know that those who intentionally hurt other people are evil, but we don’t want to think of our parents as evil. There are no right or wrong, yet there are always two sides of a story, hard to separate from the truth. Excuses are vivid, we live among people who want to protect us, but drag us further down the rabbit hole.

Don’t mind us, we do only have to live through a life where we’ve never had a whole family.

Source: http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lvas8uoZp71r6qljho1_500.jpg

Language and its Soul

This is going to be a little more personal and real life post than I want my blog to be, but I want to write this for future reference.

It’s the second day of the week, the second day of pure English and SophoclesOedipus The King. It has been an interesting time and I’m grateful to finally be able to say that I know the story and have read the play. What reminds for me now is only to watch the play, but I have faith in myself that I will find an opportunity later on life.

I must say that I have mixed feelings about these days.
The school is almost empty with exception of a few unfortunate souls who find themselves in need to be in school, while the rest is sound asleep in their respective homes. Literature is a gift from beyond my understanding and I am above grateful for its existence. The magic of the pencil stroke has affected the lives of many, and will continue to be a magnificent part of humans. I believe that is one reason for my strive to be a good writer. Not only for the universal need of feelings significant or unique, but to feel that I matter. I want to affect the world. I am no warrior, no Politian, no enormous environmental protector, but I want to become is a writer that affects the life in my range.
In the beginning it was only my family, soon my circle grew to my friends and now I spread my wings on the internet. Some might say it’s not clever to post my work online, make it available to all. I don’t have in my intention to publish the work that I post here. I am aware of that fact, but before I can be published I need to be recognized in some sort. That, my dear reader, is why I made this blog. I can write for ages, but what does it help if it only stays closed up on a little hard drive, not even bigger than my fist!

That was the personal quota for today, I hope you enjoy the rest of your week. For my own part, there’s vacation. Guess what I want to do these couple of days? Spend my days with my best friend and be inspired to create more fantastic worlds. Are you as excited as I am?

One Look is Enough

I’m not here for your or my sake,
Only because he looked at me.
It wasn’t long,
but long enough.

One glance was enough
to make me grand.
Greater than I was,
but great enough.

Ha said something to me.
I don’t know what,
but he spoke,
spoke more than enough.

I’m not here for your or my sake,
I’m here for his.

Translated version of this:

Eg er ikkje her for di or mi skuld,
Berre fordi han såg meg
Det var ikkje mykje,
Men lenge nok.

Eit lite blikk var nok
Til å gjere meg stor
Større enn eg var
Men stor nok.

Han sa noko til meg
Eg vet ikkje kva,
Men han snakka
Snakka meir enn nok.

Eg er ikkje her for di or mi skuld,
Eg er her for hans.

Letter from Kreon to Jocasta [“Oedipus The King” by Sophocles]

[Editor’s note: This letter is constructed purely of own words, but is based on the work by Sophocles, Oedipus The King.]

Dear sister,

I understand that your situation is complex, and I’m determined to help you to my best abilities. I do not wish to test the strength of our bond through blood; nor your love for your dear husband, Oedipus, yet I ask of you to consider this as you read. His mind is not currently at its right state; his words origin from emotions and are filled with hatred and confusion. You must believe me when I say that his claims against me are false. Do not worry on my behalf; your thoughts should be for Oedipus who in all hope should come to the realization of how he has condemned himself. I do not wish to exile my brother-in-law, yet he leaves me no choice. My fear, nevertheless, lies on Oedipus’ reaction to the truth. I am certain of this as my journey to Apollo enlightened me and Teiresias‘ visit confirmed my concerns. It is as they say; your husband is the man Thebes must banish. Do not fear the consequences your husband will face, I shall see to it to spare his life is possible. The household slave that witnessed the murder is soon arriving and will bring light on this disastrous matter. Oedipus has no choice but to see the truth, he cannot argue his way out. You must talk to him, dear sister. Only your reason can make him understand that he is the man Apollo speaks about. Your disbelief in fate and prophecies are understandable, yet you must see the proof laying before you. The stories told are true, even Oedipus himself starts to see their connection.


Your brother,


Source: http://www.mshogue.com/AP/oedipus.htm