Morning Pages - Week 1 Day 2


I am so not awake yet. My hands are so mushy, I can't even hold my lucky pen straight. It felt so wrong to go to work yesterday because of the day before. I was off and it wasn't even one of those cleverly calculated days off, like the Friday before a long weekend or the Thursday of New Year's eve. It was a Tuesday; so wrong according to CALTOS (Corporate America Logical Time Off Standards -just made that up, sorry) but I had a great time nevertheless. 

Anyway so the day after, I was inevitably whatsapping a lot at the office, and facebooking, and instagramming, and spotifying, and staring at the screen. I think the girls were even ignoring me on the whatsapp chat group; it could be the fact that I kept sending messages like:

"ALRIGHT! That's it! I'm coming over to your workplace for the rest of the day" or
"This is such a fucked up world we're living in guys...." 

From angry to determined and then to emotional...So yes, I was ignored and it was a long day.

I keep thinking about that waitress woman, who quit her well-paying job to enjoy life and become a waitress at 32 to support herself. 32 is too young to say "Screw it, I'm just going to go my way from now on" and too old not to worry about all the kids out there fresh out of college, who will potentially do a better job for a fraction of her salary. I wonder if she's really happy and enjoying life or if this is one of those made up stories bloggers tell just to attract some attention to their blog. By story, I'm not referring to her quitting her job and becoming a waitress. I believe that part. I'm questioning if she's telling the truth about being happy. Isn't there just a tiny bit of doubt still alive deep within her heart? Is she really sleeping like a baby at night having thrown all her professional potential out the window at age 32? GOD I hope not. Her blog post was spreading too much hope to be superficial and far from truth.

If you can't stop lying when you write then maybe you shouldn't write. Those who express themselves with ease through writing are usually less apt at lying. That is precisely why they prefer writing at first place. Let's be honest here; when you're at work or at a friends get together or parent teacher conference, how much of your real thoughts do you keep to yourself not to disturb the socially acceptable level of human interaction and how many times do you lie within 10 minutes when you're talking to others? How many times do you lie to yourself? A lot; don't be shy. You cannot do that when you're writing. You have to tell the truth or else you will look like a big phony wannabe writer and fail. That's why I want that 32-year old woman to be telling the truth on happiness. I want her to succeed.

I can never forget what Ernest Hemingway said at an interview with the famous 

"The most essential gift for a good writer is a built-in, shockproof, shit detector. This is the writer’s radar and all great writers have had it".

I always knew one could only tell the truth through writing because I, myself could never lie with a pen in my hand but it was that sentence that showed me not only do true writers not lie on paper, but they can also not be lied to. Isn't that great: to be able to see through people? Everyone is in fact so transparent that it's sad when hearts are pumping blood into brains so that mouths can spit out bullshit. You just feel like saying " Excuse me here for a second, that's not the right end for shit to come out. Let me get that for you and wipe your mouth clean. Let's chat again when you take your mouth off your tooshi". Don't you feel that a lot? I do. And what do I do if I'm face to face with that person? I politely smile and nod in understanding. So grown up, no? 

But wait a second, is it only literature where one shouldn't lie for popularity or for whatever idiotic reason? I mean, what about other forms of art? Can photographers lie about what they want to express through photography just so their work can appeal to a greater number of people?  

Take this chic for example. When I first saw her work, I thought it was brilliant because obviously she was depicting New York City as a jungle and its dwellers as animals. The most mundane activity like riding the subway was in fact a weird and possibly dangerous reflection in a parallel world where we were all defenseless, naked in other words. Brilliant, right? I know. But the more I looked at her photos, more disappointed I felt because it was only her! Despite all our efforts to destroy animal life, there are still more than one animal kind in the jungle. So maybe am I not on the right track anymore about what her work should evoke in human soul? Once I am derailed from the connection I established with her work of art, I can't get back in because all I can see from then on is her naughty parts.

She can be an extremely talented artist but are people really admiring her art or her tits? And fine, let's say she wants to express ideas through nudity. I'm all about a-la-naturale. Awesome. But why is it that only she poses for the photos? I mean, why the hell not use a fat, hairy guy or a cute little Jewish kid or I don't know Mexicans, Africans, Asians, freaking eskimos, I don't know. Why herself all the time? And would she do the same if she was not as hot as she is? These are all good questions to ask, right? And I'd love to be able to ask her personally one day. In the meanwhile, she's probably getting her 25,043,304th hit on her website. I think you can sell anything with a naked body but if you can get people to value your work because you undressed your soul, you become timeless.

But what do I know?..I'm just a white collar girl, who's officially late for work. Can I still see through you and not buy your bullshit? Probably so.