h1

keep writing

February 19, 2007

Keep doing it and doing it. Even in the moments when it’s so hurtful to think about writing.
Heather Armstrong

I have no idea who Heather Armstrong is. I don’t really care to find out, either. I was looking for inspiration, and came across this quote. I find quotes can be very stimulating to the writing urge, so I visit http://www.quotationspage.com/ from time to time and select a subject.

This struck me, though. Writing is easy, when you’re just talking about something. You’re not crafting worlds and personalities. You’re not trying to devise a plot. You’re just writing what’s on your mind. It’s what I do here most of all. But why do I do it, hen I write about things that can hurt me? Or more importantly, why when I think what I say may hurt someone else?

There is a lot of pain here, as anyone can plainly see. There is also some joy. Look at the post, smells like Mexico. Cocoa butter is a smell I’ve always enjoyed. It just smells fresh and clean. But you connect a memory to it. Something very specific, like the feel of a lover’s skin, and it becomes intense to the point of overexerting yourself emotionally. This is quickly leaving the realm of writing, isn’t it? Nonetheless, I shall continue.

My ex smelled of a facial cleanser many days. It was not exactly an aromatic perfume, but it is associated with her. I smell it and I can picture her easily. I remember when she first started using it, and how much she loved it.

So we have two smells and two women for one man. But that’s not my point here. Mexico did not only smell of cocoa butter. It also smelled of that cleansor. It turns out, both of my ex lovers liked the stuff. I can remember before bed in that tiny room, cocoa butter at the ready for a massage. She washed her face and lay down as I began to work my hands across her back. I was engulfed in the smell of cocoa butter and the ocean. I began to work her shoulders, and leaned over to her ear and it hit me. She used the same cleansor.

It was like hitting a wall at 100 mph, I imagine. Maybe that was part of the buildup of feelings, though. She smelled of my ex, whom I love immensely, and those feelings blew in and tossed me off balance. That’s actually an epiphone I just had. And THAT is why I write. Because I can work these things out and come to some conclusion.

They’ve both been important people in my life, and I have learned a lot because of both. The lessons were complimentary to each other. I wasn’t jealous with my ex, but I was too jealous with my last lover. I didn’t give enough of myself to my ex, but I tried too hard with my last lover. Thanks to the two of them I’m finding that happy medium. And they both push me to be and do more. I’d not have gone to the party without lover and ex pushing me to just go. The both helped me through the initial panic attacks. Despite everything bad and even some of the too good to be true stuff, I love them both for that.

Now, how dumb is that?

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