The end we’ve been anticipating has finally arrived. It’s a bitter sweet sensation. Today was the last day I walked in these shoes (literally because our school is donating them to charity) and while they always felt heavy and required excessive effort to drag them off the ground they’ve moulded around my feet in a comforting familiarity. Now I stand barefoot and with my bones drenched in uncertainty…
Today is the end but it’s also the beginning☆
_Quixotic Novelist
It is a truth engraved in ink that a writer writes. If you read between the lines and analyze the work of a novelist you will deduce that while a writer does indeed write, she never writes about herself. A writer hones on to a mediocre muse which almost always receives the credit for her scintillating spark. Never does she applaud her own self for her power of mind and poise of the language.
Today I commemorate a writer, @apoetbyheart who has graced the earth with her wonderful words for exactly eighteen years. She is not only a talented scribe but she is also a faithful and solicitous friend.
Anyone who knows you knows that you have ears that listen to comments that aren’t said. You have sight that sees what isn’t present. You can feel what you’ve never experienced and your impressive senses of understanding and empathy make you a magnificence in the eyes of all that you encounter.
Happy birthday to you, my phenomenal friend. I remember when you called me Aberforth and you wrote the most pulchritudinous poetry. Every day you grow and expand far beyond the expected. You write and by doing so you gift the world with a cloud of colourful creation and textured grandeur but never forget that you are worth writing about ♡
_Quixotic Novelist
I was five at the time of the release of Shrek and naturally it became my favourite film. Two days later I had memorized the script and till today my memory maintains an excellent account of the conversation. A few nights ago a four year old kid asked me what an ogre was, without thinking I replied “Ogres are like onions.”
It’s been years since I’ve watched or even thought about Shrek and this query brought him to the front of my mind.
Shrek: Ogres are like onions.
Donkey: They stink?
Shrek: Yes. No
Donkey: Oh, they make you cry
Shrek: No
Donkey: Oh you leave ’em out in the sun. They get all brown and start sprouting little white hairs
Shrek: NO. Layers. Onions have layers. Ogres have layers. You get it we both have layers
Donkey: Oh… You both have layers. You know not everybody like onions
Taken from a scene in Dream works ‘Shrek’ (2001)
Shrek (like every animation had gifted us a metaphor. Forgive me for I am about to refer to us all as ‘ogres’ (fear not for there is magic in my madness)
See as ogres we all have layers. Not just the thickness of our epidermis but the beauty and brilliance of our behavior, the intricacy of our intellect and the eternity of our existence through the legacies we leave. Have you considered the complexity of yourself?
Go on… Think about it…
Magnificent, aren’t we?
Now let’s talk a bit about our stink. As ogres we have layers just as onions have layers. Now the sickening stench that sometimes surrounds onions are a reference to our unpleasant and undesirable characteristics and actions. We cannot deny them for they scent sticks to us like a second skin. Sometimes the thought of these decisions and they’re damned repercussions are enough to reduce us to tears (similar to the salty sensation of chopping onions) So what to we do? Well, we cover up the bad with layers of goodness. This has the effect of eventually purifying the filthy factors.
As we accumulate layers we develop a defined disposition. We adopt labels and reputations and while those play a pivotal part in society, they are the thin membrane on the surface of infinite layers.
Fiona, Lord Farquad and pretty much anyone who meets Shrek forms a prejudice conception upon first glance. Little do they realize that they have only glimpsed a fraction of what lies beneath. Hardly anyone likes Shrek but then again, not everyone likes onions. That doesn’t prevent their presence in our varied vegetable gardens.
We’re ogres. We have layers. We are detailed and descriptive beings and each one of us possesses a carefully chosen combination of colours. Don’t judge an onion too harshly for we are all ogres and like onions we all have layers.
_Quixotic Novelist
It’s been a while since I’ve blogged and even longer since I’ve wanted to blog. I have a theory that forced examinations sucks the inspiration from one’s skull but that’s a post for a darker day.
Since I couldn’t write, I read. Fortunately the extensive world of literature means that there is never a shortage of erudite material. The bookshelf is a few finger brushes away. Apple users receive access through a simple click into iBooks and viola! you have a weightless library, stocked to full capacity (literally) in the palm of your hand.
Unfortunately there’s a downside to this wonder. See I believe a book is only good if you’re able to share it. However far too many people are abandoning the ancient art of gazing at a black and white miracle for hours on end. It’s the height of irony that those same people complain of boredom. Nevertheless I sought a companion with whom I could share my thoughts.
My dilemma may seem seemingly simple. All I require is some poor unfortunate to relate the contents of my (admittedly) vexing brain and I move on to the next novel, right? See, the thing is that I yearned in particular for one specific person whom I have had minimal contact with over the last few months.
Our acquaintance began over a year ago and what struck me as estranged was that I had already met him. Not in person but in fiction. I had encountered an almost identical persona in a fictional character. He was in every feature a Beautiful Creature. Moreover he (the real life version) possess a most superior intellect and insight unparallel to the other heldback opinions I’ve endured from others.
That is why I have this burning desire to converse with you. You remind me of a book with lungs. When I talk to you or I’m around you I get to share, even momentarily, a few breaths of your brilliant air. I try to inhale as many adjectives and aspects of alluring wisdom from you.
I make mental notes to remind myself to share specific words or quotes or characters with you. My storage space had run low and I suffered a black out. I am eager to learn of your thoughts on various subjects and I think I’ve become fairly good at predicting your preferences and distastes. There is a world of words I wish to uncover and I can only hope that you’re willing to read alongside me.
I think I know why I enjoy your company and conversation so much. In the words of my fictional friend to her breathing book, “You and I are alike. We live and breathe words.”
_Quixotic Novelist
I feared loneliness. The prospect of being by myself was daunting and I dreaded the day I would have to face this as a reality. This year I’ve had a lot of lonely days. The same people who surrounded me with loud laughter abandoned me to the brinks of isolation to the extent that I felt exiled. While the door for companionship never fully shuts for as humans we crave human interaction. At times; however, individual introspection is necessary for growth and gratitude.
I have come to realize that when you are with people you learn a lot about those people. Their preferences and dislikes; their hopes, dreams and fears; their favourites and fetishes; the embarrassing crush they had when they were ten; their insecurities…
When you are by yourself you uncover the enigma that lies within the rivers of blood that gush beneath the vulnerable surface of your concealing dermis. You uncover, accept and confront the issues that linger in your subconscious, the ones you tend to ignore.
I’m not much of a hugger but I desire a comforting embrace every so often. The strongest and most supportive pair of arms I’ve ever had wrapped around me, were my own. The reason for this was that every hair, every nerve ending and neuron had the understanding that no one outside of myself could comprehend. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t pleasant and I was often taunted by loneliness. It took some time but I’ve decided to exchange the ‘n’ in ‘loneliness’ for a ‘v’ to make it ‘loveliness’.
I become familiar with the unfamiliar, not because I wanted to but because I had to. We are oblivious to our comfort zones until we are forced out of them. At that point we realize that the comfortable is uncomfortable; why seek a sanctuary of miserable mediocrity when you have ample opportunity to expand yourself in directions you haven’t even dreamed?
If loneliness is what plagues you, I urge you to find solitude. In that seclusion you become self sufficient.
Like I did 🙂
_Quixotic Novelist
Quixotic Novelist 