A writer once said, "A story without emotion is like a human without a soul."
Errr, I don't know exactly why I said that.
A month ago, I decided to quit blogging because I thought I grew out of it. It was an excuse because these days, I've convinced myself that I have been too busy to even think of new ideas to write about. It's like considering changes, no matter how unwanted they seem to be. An old string in a guitar needs to be replaced with a new one, for not changing it might make the songs go out of tune. A child needs new sets of uniforms every school year because he grows up and grows out of his clothes. A woman stops drinking and smoking when she finds out she bears a child. It's like, changes have to take place not because they are wanted but because they are indispensable let alone, inevitable.
Before I got the drive to write again, I had dozens of entries which didn't have meanings at all. They were space-fillers; they were posted just so I could say that I blogged and shared something. It was until the first week of November that I realized, I hate pointless utterances, musings, copies of other people's works on a blog that I call my own. I felt that since the time I started having "A Fish Between Two Cats" for myself without sharing it with another blogger, it has already lost its meaning. Everything was already pointless, or so I thought.
This morning, I watched a Miyazaki movie for the second time. Its English title is "Whispers of the Heart." The first time I watched it, I looked at it from a young woman's perspective--the romance, the lines, the songs and all other cheesy things a teenager can think of. I didn't think of myself to look at it that way, yet to my surprise I did. It was like falling in love with the characters, as if the story retold mine. The second time I watched it, everything was different.
My Literature teacher was correct when she said that it feels good to read a book twice or even more. On the second attempt of an individual to read a book, he learns things he didn't learn during his first. Hence, when I saw the movie again, everything became entirely and surprisingly different.
Shizuku lost her motivation to study when Seiji left for Cremona to be an apprentice and to eventually be a master luthier. She felt nothing compared to him because she was left behind without plans, without goals and without anything she could be proud of. She decided to be a writer and in order to accomplish that, she rendered much of her time trying to write a story. In the process of writing it, she got low grades at school and she became too absorbed with her idea of being like him or perhaps, even more. She wanted to be someone who could get what she wants no matter how tedious it becomes. When she finally showed her work to Seiji's grandfather, and the latter said it was like a stone, unpolished and imperfect. She seemed disappointed after putting much effort on it but Seiji's grandfather said, that a stone can be polished, carved and can eventually become something precious like Lapiz Lazuli, which sparkles when light strikes on it.
It was then that she realized she needs to focus on things that are far more important than impulse and conceit. She knew she could be someone, in her own time. Early morning, when Shizuku was sleeping, Seiji came back and took her for a ride to his favorite spot where they both saw the sun slowly rising up, streaking its beautiful rays across the city.
What does it have to do with everything that is happening? It's simple. I realized, that I looked at things from an irrational and dense perspective. It's not always about human emotions and relationships toward other people. Sometimes, it could be about an individual's relationship with himself. Whether or not it is being irrational, what remains as an apparent point is that people neglect to see the underlying contexts of stories and experiences. What could these actions mean? What do these messages impose? How do these things affect the entirety of the story? Some people prefer looking at the surface, the horizon, the "obvious", and these people are the ones who often struggle in the end.
I thought I wanted to stop blogging. I thought I wanted push myself to do things which seemed far more important. It was a dense idea after all.
Let me share a poem which struck me the first time I read it. The second time I did, I felt relieved.
Errr, I don't know exactly why I said that.
A month ago, I decided to quit blogging because I thought I grew out of it. It was an excuse because these days, I've convinced myself that I have been too busy to even think of new ideas to write about. It's like considering changes, no matter how unwanted they seem to be. An old string in a guitar needs to be replaced with a new one, for not changing it might make the songs go out of tune. A child needs new sets of uniforms every school year because he grows up and grows out of his clothes. A woman stops drinking and smoking when she finds out she bears a child. It's like, changes have to take place not because they are wanted but because they are indispensable let alone, inevitable.
Before I got the drive to write again, I had dozens of entries which didn't have meanings at all. They were space-fillers; they were posted just so I could say that I blogged and shared something. It was until the first week of November that I realized, I hate pointless utterances, musings, copies of other people's works on a blog that I call my own. I felt that since the time I started having "A Fish Between Two Cats" for myself without sharing it with another blogger, it has already lost its meaning. Everything was already pointless, or so I thought.
This morning, I watched a Miyazaki movie for the second time. Its English title is "Whispers of the Heart." The first time I watched it, I looked at it from a young woman's perspective--the romance, the lines, the songs and all other cheesy things a teenager can think of. I didn't think of myself to look at it that way, yet to my surprise I did. It was like falling in love with the characters, as if the story retold mine. The second time I watched it, everything was different.
My Literature teacher was correct when she said that it feels good to read a book twice or even more. On the second attempt of an individual to read a book, he learns things he didn't learn during his first. Hence, when I saw the movie again, everything became entirely and surprisingly different.
Shizuku lost her motivation to study when Seiji left for Cremona to be an apprentice and to eventually be a master luthier. She felt nothing compared to him because she was left behind without plans, without goals and without anything she could be proud of. She decided to be a writer and in order to accomplish that, she rendered much of her time trying to write a story. In the process of writing it, she got low grades at school and she became too absorbed with her idea of being like him or perhaps, even more. She wanted to be someone who could get what she wants no matter how tedious it becomes. When she finally showed her work to Seiji's grandfather, and the latter said it was like a stone, unpolished and imperfect. She seemed disappointed after putting much effort on it but Seiji's grandfather said, that a stone can be polished, carved and can eventually become something precious like Lapiz Lazuli, which sparkles when light strikes on it.
It was then that she realized she needs to focus on things that are far more important than impulse and conceit. She knew she could be someone, in her own time. Early morning, when Shizuku was sleeping, Seiji came back and took her for a ride to his favorite spot where they both saw the sun slowly rising up, streaking its beautiful rays across the city.
What does it have to do with everything that is happening? It's simple. I realized, that I looked at things from an irrational and dense perspective. It's not always about human emotions and relationships toward other people. Sometimes, it could be about an individual's relationship with himself. Whether or not it is being irrational, what remains as an apparent point is that people neglect to see the underlying contexts of stories and experiences. What could these actions mean? What do these messages impose? How do these things affect the entirety of the story? Some people prefer looking at the surface, the horizon, the "obvious", and these people are the ones who often struggle in the end.
I thought I wanted to stop blogging. I thought I wanted push myself to do things which seemed far more important. It was a dense idea after all.
Let me share a poem which struck me the first time I read it. The second time I did, I felt relieved.
If I feel depressed I will sing.
If I feel sad I will laugh.
If I feel ill I will double my labor.
If I feel fear I will plunge ahead.
If I feel inferior I will wear new garments.
If I feel uncertain I will raise my voice.
If I feel poverty I will think of wealth to come.
If I feel incompetent I will think of past success.
If I feel insignificant I will remember my goals.
Today I will be the master of my emotions.
-Og Mandino
If I feel sad I will laugh.
If I feel ill I will double my labor.
If I feel fear I will plunge ahead.
If I feel inferior I will wear new garments.
If I feel uncertain I will raise my voice.
If I feel poverty I will think of wealth to come.
If I feel incompetent I will think of past success.
If I feel insignificant I will remember my goals.
Today I will be the master of my emotions.
-Og Mandino
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