My Heart

My heart is a lock to which there is no key.
Was the key lost?
Hey, don’t ask me!
I know that it beats to my life’s song.
A beat that is spirited.
A beat that is strong.
And the key to match me,
Should likely be
A harmony to my melody.

So I got out of class today and decided I’d write this quickly…it’s just something that popped into my head. I’ve been spitting out rhymes a lot lately. I must be in a good mood. ^.^!

Transitions and Travel

Cuillin-mountains-scotland-backside

It seems that the transition to university has put a bit of a pause on my work. It’s irritating but my father believes that it is understandable. He explained to me that I’m still just trying to get the hang of everything, and that once I’m adjusted to this new lifestyle I will get back into writing. Nevertheless he found it extremely surprising that I hadn’t done any creative writing period. “There is a lake outside your window! There are gardens that you could sit and write in if you wanted to. With all this nature around, you should be able to write about something!”

Now I know that there are many writers out there who purposely move to areas like this, a tranquil environment surrounded by nature, however I learned many years ago that if you want, you can write anywhere. A good example of this is my cousin, he said that when he moved to British Columbia, that he would begin to write there. At the time I thought, “You live in an area surrounded by nature? What is so different about here and there?” but after watching a show recently where one of the characters was suffering from writers block I realized that many of us writers believe that we need to travel to places like France, Nova Scotia, or Japan in order to write.

I knew that university may take away the amount of time that I had for my novels, however in silence I made a promise to myself that I would work on it every chance I had. I feel as though I have already broken that promise; three weeks I’m here, watching life pass me by and not once did I open up my binder, grab a pencil and “bleed” across the pages to my hearts content.

It makes me wonder if location does have an impact us as writers. To be out of my favourite spot to write, my bedroom at home, it just doesn’t feel right. Sure this is a bedroom but as I told my father, this isn’t my bedroom. Maybe after my trip home this weekend, my bedroom will no longer feel like it belongs to me as well…however I fear that when I return to school I will not feel like it is home either.

Where is your favourite place to write?

If you could write in any province, state or country, where would that be? Why?

What makes you feel at home?

Mondays

First I wake up late. Then I had to walk all the way to class in these annoying shoes that don’t even fit because I can just slip them on and I was short on time. Later while attempting to take a sip of my orange juice, I somehow spilt it all over my face and my shirt! It even got on the floor! After that I realize that I didn’t put soap in the washing machine!

Thank God I have a muffin…