it was really nice to sleep and wake to the sound of waves yesterday. it's been almost one year since i've walked along the shores of the beach. it felt really refreshing to smell that salt in the air. and i felt like a kid when i started wiggling my toes in the sand. that is a great feeling. the sky was clear for the most part. the sun reflected off every ripple of the ocean, and my friend and i just walked around picking up shells and talking. it's weird what a new environment makes you do.
which brings me to a topic i've been wondering about. i haven't posted here in ten days, i can see. i don't know why, but i've not had that spark of inspiration. my poetry site is dormant at this point, although i plan to post a poem i wrote last week. still, i'm usually overflowing with things to say. it felt weird for days, because when i can't bring myself to write, it's when i need it most. so instead, i started to resume the hard-cover journal i have. i decided to skim through it just now, and i finally found that motivation to write.
it feels really empty, not having anything to write about, talk about. of course, i didn't go completely mute, but i didn't write. my hands wanted to touch these keyboards, pick up a pen. my mind wanted to scream, but i kept it contained. somehow, this confinement took its toll. i wasn't despondent or anything; i just couldn't take that initiative to start writing.
then, i started reading my past journal entries. they seem so long ago and so young. it's not like i grew older in couple of months. it's not that i'm acting all grown-up, because i'm not (and don't really want to yet). but reading them made me feel older. and that in itself is enough to boggle my mind. the topics are things like, the dream i saw last night, or a poem about some place. there was also an entry i wrote when i was obviously upset over my parents for trying to make me go back to japan (and not graduate high school in the usa), and then yet another that was titled, "fear". reading them made me realize that writing anything, whether it be jibberish for some, is never a bad thing.
some people may not realize how homey it feels to look at the computer screen again, to see my thoughts flowing to my fingers as they type. but i literally live here. i end up "taking out the trash" on this very site. so much has been in my head, and now that i've finally restarted, it won't stop. one after the other, another tpoic that i've been rambling in my head pops up, and i'm on a blank page again, writing more about some significant current event. who knows? next, i'll be writing about something random, like what part of the eye makes 50 movements per second. but then again, i should write about it (or anything else, for that matter) because one day, i'll look back at it and another set of memories will overwhelm me.
it's safe to say that i'm very content being able to write about something again. of course, that took some inspiration, like my journal, or my friends. and then, of course, there are just some things that encourage me to write, to which i will not discuss in this post. or not just yet...
+++++
