Tag Archives: Writing

Uncovering the Mental Block

15 Oct

The majority of people in this world want to be successful, happy and cherished. Isn’t that what life is about? There is something that I noticed in my life that many times kept me from success. It is my idea on what I need to do to be successful.

I grew up in a family of doctors, dentists, and engineers. These are science and math related subjects, and in high school when I put my full effort in I did amazing. However, the truth was that I felt no connection, no excitement about learning the laws of physics, and theorems of calculus.

I love my family, my parents, I feel lucky I have such motivated people in my life. They thought that in the world we; live in today to have success; the science field was where I needed to go. However, I didn’t and it shocked my parents, because they saw that I had the capacity to excel in these subjects (although for me I could not grasp science fast, I had to study for hours and hours to understand ONE simple idea).

Now–some subjects come easily to us, others don’t and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I believe that if one really wants to be a doctor or a dentist or whatever, even if the subject’s one must learn are very hard, one will put the effort in and accomplish the goal.

For me, I had no desire to become a dentist, my aunt is a dentists and she loves what she does. She works with people everyday, helps them, brings health into their lives, and gives them ward worthy bright teeth! To me this is amazing, and she is such a hard worker, a family woman, and knows how to keep the balance of work and play.

In my early childhood, I sang, I acted I loved to write. Moreover, like many kids, teenagers, and any age group I wanted to be known for a talent! I wanted fame! But what is fame, and why do some of us thirst for it so much? Because really to be I feel foolish I ever wanted fame. What I want is to help people, in an area that I know I am good at. It’s amazing knowing, that someone read a post and was touched by it–and you know what I feel so LUCKY that I started this blog, because I had a great fear that my writing was awful, well that my thoughts were dumb. That no one would like me, that I would be criticized for being immature. I learned thank goodness, that criticism is very good because it’s how we can get better at what I am doing! I use to think it was a bad thing, I feared it! Now I know even if I feel the sting of criticism (which I have gotten over), it is good for me because I can grow! I can learn, and not make the same mistakes.

And hey I am still learning how to develop my ideas, how to express them. Learning to write, and becoming better is an ongoing process. I am not the best, but I think if you love doing something you should at least try! And try again and again!

As much as I love to read novels, and have practiced writing a few, (although they are embarrassingly bad, and are simply my attempts to just try to finish them to the end), I found that writing short stories, and fiction, did not always come easily to me. Sure once in a while I will think of an idea for a story and I will write it–but for me its poetry and essay writing that, I love. I love writing about the idea of the world, our perception of it, energy, philosophy, psychology, positivity, and what reality is to me, and to other people.

Here is my point: I thought that a certain career a certain path is going to bring a success, that for me I thought there was only one concrete way to the destination of success. This is a huge MENTAL BLOCK.

I was limiting myself, because me thinking there is only one way to do something is just CRAZY. We must run to the things that we love, run to the subjects that excite you freely! What is success? Does it really mean fame? I do not think so; I think it means being so happy with the work, you do to help others in life. To bring them happiness and truth!


Nothing is easy–and there came a point in my life, where I had to start owning up to the place that I was in. I cannot blame others, I can control myself and my reaction to what happens. I have a great thirst for knowledge–I still read articles on biology and anatomy, and so many more subjects. Everyday is a chance to learn. I feel that till I am old and withered I will still be learning.

My mind is free from the awful idea that there is only one way to get success.

When I start focusing on the things that make me happy, when I help others and I see how I’ve touched their lives, it is the most amazing feeling,  that is when I feel success! I hope that I am thinking the right way, I hope that being happy, but also working hard, concentrating and persistence will bring me where I desperately want to go.

Know what you want, whether its being a doctor, a teacher, a life coach, actor, writer, even a dentist, know that this is what you want to do with your life. No matter how hard it is, remember it is what you want, and you will do whatever it take to get there. You have to know where you are going, create the plan and go there!

To me the future is a destination and there are millions, billions, and simply endless ways to get there. Just know you’re gonna get there.


Tiny Tale

26 Aug

Edges of dark tree’s and wood curved my vision. I rammed the car to push further, down the twirling road. Every now and then the night would hide parts of the road, and I’d think, oh dear that’s a hole ready to swallow me up.

No matter, hole or not. I was on a mission. Let the tree’s fall, hide the stars and lady moon, make invisible the path. I don’t care, even a ravenous coyote could come, and I’d kill it first.

Summer nights like these are not to be trusted. The wind turns ugly, beckoning the chill to come back.

Inside the car I wrapped my hands tightly against the leather wheel. Smell of menthol and fresh packaged mint creeping in the  atmosphere.

No music today. Only silence, for that is in itself where concentration lies.

The man I was searching for, the one I would find he sent me a message.

One I could not ignore, and although it was veiled to protect him, the words unsaid were obvious. Where others have failed, you will prevail.

To persist, agonizing as it was, I had to. No one else could, not in this.

I drove, deeper into wilderness, deeper into the arcane. Closer and closer I came.

No more tree’s no path. Only an open space, a field of grass, looking so black, one might have thought the sea was approaching.

Hands shaking, sweat, dripping down the body. I got out of the car. Out into the wild. And there it ended, and began…my pursuit, into the unreality.

Water to the Soul

24 Aug

I have not felt this free in weeks

It has taken me that long

To realize that I cannot let go of this one thing

To write is to think

I have been thirsty for days


Inside my body, I only feel the ache of a weakness

And I tried

Told my self I was not good enough to do this

Told my self I had no voice

And then in the midst of thirst

Insanity set in

And through it came my need

I broke down

The pen and paper came to me as if by magic

And in that way I could not stop

Hours went by

When I finally looked at a clock

My heart stopped

This is beauty

This is life

The ability of curiosity

Which some of us shut out–

Make it a thing unknown except in child hood memories but I have decided memory

Is no longer sufficient

I have decided that it is time

To brake the rules

Make a few mistakes and maybe through them something good will come

They tell me this is no way to live a life

They say that this is a long road of sorrow

But how am I suppose to cope

With out the pen

All these thoughts they jumble in my head

They squeeze together

Until I can’t live in there any longer

Finally the breath comes

The sip of water I had been restraining against

And I am completely again

I am human

Ugly and beautiful

Animal and spirit

And all of this makes me

Half lunatic

And half something else

Something I cannot define

Not yet not now.

Don’t ever hold it back

even if it seems like crap

Do not hold back

Wake Up

7 Aug

Life has meaning when you put meaning into it,

I’ve been in a rut for the past week.

Depressed, thinking stupid things,

wasting my time so I don’t have to deal with reality.

But this morning, my brain woke me up by way of a message :

That it’s a choice I am making

it’s a choice to sit around

it’s a choice to do something

and its a choice to start being happy,

to start remembering that everything in this world….

is connected

that everything in this world has a meaning.

I was so angry because

I couldn’t think up any stories

think up a beautiful tale to tell

and that’s silly

life has so many stories

I guess it’s about learning

it’s about just trying

I’ve been too embarrassed to tell the real stories

the stories about my life

but each chapter of my life is a book.

Each place I’ve moved to

the parties I’ve been to

the things I have seen

they are all stories

and its about paying attention to the world around you.

But why I am so focused on thinking up ways to write?

When I should just write

like right now I feel so good.

It’s like finally, finally I can write and all these emotions

all these realizations

they feel real

I feel real

I feel significant

worth it.

Sometimes when I get depressed,

I’ll start thinking that success is crazy

that how could I be successful?

But that’s so stupid!

I decided today

that I am no longer going to think that success is beyond my reach.

In fact I believe it is around the corner

but its time,

being an overactive human like myself

makes me want things fast

achieve fast

get it as soon as possible!

and when it doesn’t come fast

I get frustrated

I become a zombie.

That’s no way to live,

that’s not a mentality that I want to stay in

I want to be calm

I want to accept the world around me

I want to breathe in its beauty

I am curious about everything

I want to know why the world is the way it is

And I believe, that it is through my own fiction

that I can learn, understand and most of all appreciate my life.

You see I have a theory

that when one sits down to write

they should just do that

just go through the motions

just do it,

don’t think, that what your writing is stupid

because that’s completely cutting off your value as a person.

And that’s not fair to ourselves,

Right now I feel super inspired

I can feel like this any day any time

by just remembering that even the motion of writing

even trying is significant

I am significant

This world we live in today

this era

its full of so many distractions

so many things that keep taking away

our significance.

Because by saying ah I don’t feel like studying

I don’t feel like writing

I don’t feel like working

let me watch some tv or go on the computer and play games or watch a show,

by doing that, we are essentially giving away what makes us


and instead filling our minds with a pollution

that does not allow any time to think

for ourselves.

However, we can escape this bombardment of messages—

by self-control,

remembering what it is we want

remembering that every single person, every life

your life, is more important

than wasting time

and once your dreams come true,

that’s when life gives us even more

opportunities, hopes,

and most of all we appreciate.

That’s the point, isn’t it–

to take pleasure

in the work we do

in the lives we live

by remembering

we are here

we are alive

we are connected

and most of all:

we are significant

Memory of Living

24 Jul

This is a memory:

The audience was quiet, waiting for me to start. They were a collective group of senior high school students. Some of them my friends, some of them I barely knew. But we had all grown up together, and there’s no changing that. No matter who was weird, cool, or crazy.

The classroom was a small square room on the second level. The desks were pulled into a circular fashion.

I grabbed a chair, placed it in the center of that circle, so I could see every eye, make sure they could all see me.

This was a moment I had been waiting for a moment to show I was good at something.

Our final year, our final class presentation, and I had decided it was fitting, for my persona as so I portrayed, to present a monologue; which for years, had consumed me in its bitter regret, and beautiful words.

I explained the situation : A man in jail, being asked :  have you been rehabilitated? What a question.

I sat down, looked at the audience and began. What I felt was the moment, not only the words I spoke but the deep regret I felt in my own life sure I wasn’t a man in jail, but there were many things I felt at the time needed to be redeemed within me, many things I had done wrong.

When I spoke the words, they came from a place of truth, they came from that place deep inside of me which I cannot say is from the heart or the brain but something else, something utterly human.

Everyone in that room was silent listening, watching, but I didn’t notice them not really, because I was in the moment, in that scene, I was the character and for the first time in my life I didn’t care about what people thought of me if they thought I was hot or ugly, or crazy or fun, dramatic, all the old connotations dropped when I became the character.

The last line,

I look up at every person make sure my eyes reach as many as possible

make sure they see the regret written in every part of my face.

When I  finish there is a silence for a minute,

and then everyone starts to clap.

It’s been many years,

but if I go back into that memory

I can remember what it means to be alive.

A Concept Called Time

4 Jul


“The future is just a fucking concept that we use to avoid living today.”


What is time anyway? A measurement of change? Sure, we can get scientific, but to the human being time is something else entirely. We created this concept called the future, and most of the time we just use it so we can avoid the truth, living in the present. And as the great writers of Six Feet Under said it, “The future is just a fucking concept that we use to avoid living today.”

          Wow. First, these writers string these words together so delicately and perfectly, in such a way that I am left thinking: how did I not come up with that? Or at least, it is a truth that we know, yet we do not know how to out these truth’s into words.

          That is when I realized that this is what writers do; they use their words in order to tell the truth in a way that has never been said before. In a way that will astound us, shock us, make us see the world in a new way. To me, that my friend is the sign of a great writer.

          But back to the real subject, which is time. Our concepts of time. The past, present and future. In the waking state, I mostly ruminate over the past, fantasize about the future, and usually worry over it.

          It is the present that we live. Our dominion, our reality our path to success or destruction is all about what we do now. The more I accept this truth the more I utilize it. The more I stop worrying about what could have been what might be and instead concentrate on what is in front of me.

          It is not a sin to plan for the future; it is not bad to hope for the best, to dream of exciting events. What is destructive is whining over the possible fears that might become a reality.

          What is the point of wasting our precious present with the occupation of unhealthy thoughts? None. No point.     

          So here is my question—what do you spend every moment, every day thinking about—the past the present, the future? Does it matter at all—as long as it is positive? We cannot ignore the lessons the past teaches us as individuals, but we also cannot live in it forever. Or do we live in it already? Are the writers of Six Feet Under correct, or is this an extreme concept of time?

          Time is the spoon,

          Life is held in it,

          At some point,

            It will…spill.

Woodland Monster Dreams

24 Jun

I was stuck in the dream for what felt like days

No movements from the body which I inhabited

And I suspected it was the body of a rock

Cold, and smooth, muddy with the earth and all her blessed gifts

The soil gave me hope

And strength

Beyond the vision of the tree’s I saw the monster running

It was a strange and horrible monster

It grew each step it took closer and closer to me

It’s long arms were the color of blood its

Face had no eyes only a long wide mouth and two jagged front teeth

Stained with black and red, those teeth told me the story I didn’t want to hear

But had to see

The monster grabbed me

Grabbed my wonderful smooth surface

It’s hands were grimy, and coarse

An uncomfortable feeling, a violation—

I was meant to stay in the earth, I was meant to bathe in the sun, and sleep under the moon.

But the monster took me and hurled me into the wood. I was flying through the air

Flying like a decrepit bird

And finally I hit the fire

The fire which roasted me into smithereens

And then all I was

All I turned into was dust

Scattered into the woods

I became the tree’s

The grass, flowers and wood.

And it wasn’t too bad.

The Monster had long since left.

But there were other things in these woods creeping and crawling

Killing, violating all forms of my world, all forms of me

Because I was the world

I was all parts of it.

And then the dream ended.

I was in a bed

Human again,

But not really,

Not in my mind.