Bernatk - Heatherfield Citizen

This was taken a little while ago at a wedding. She's stunning

Writer's note

It's been a long day. I've been called in to 2 job interviews, for which I'm happy beyond words but, other than that, oh boy, have I had a swell time?

I'll begin with something that's very close to me: literary work. Ever since I learnt how to write I've had a grand vision of my future. It's been my dream to be a great writer and I've always lived in this illusion that I'm good at it. But today I was rejected by a medium-sized company. No, not my professional application-- I wanted to be a volunteer. It's a quarterly magazine. So they said that they had my test writings checked by professionals and they found them inadequate in regards of grammar and authenticity.

The other thing is, well, literature, too. Remember when I said I've had this dream to be a great writer? Yeah, it pretty much fills every second minute of my waking hours. So here's the other story: Yesterday I recieved an answer to a query I sent to a seemingly fitting agent. She wrote that she feels honored (of course), that I contacted her, however, my work is not really for her. She (of course) encouraged me to keep on trying because she did not reject my book because of its general lack of genuineness but because of her own lack of enthusiasm about it. Yeah, it sucks. I know what you're thinking: Well what does one (1) agent matter anyway? Keep on trying, she said that too. So yes. Thank you. I've been trying. I've been trying for over a year with a total absence of fruition in any respect. I've re-written and polished my work but what does it matter now?

I've never said I'm a writer. Never to anyone. I've always believed humility is crucial and so I've never mentioned myself as a writer or artist. I didn't keep my writing a secret but I sure as rain was modest about it. Still, what I feel right now is this: I'm a complete wreck as a writer. Yeah, I'm a wreck that's for granted but why do I think I'm a writer. I never said I was and I've been constantly forcing myself not to consider myself as that. But in despair and disappointment my thoughts betray me. I'm just a sore loser and a presumptuous fool.

I'm not going to apologize for all the dismal things I've written because they aren't dismal. They're meant to teach you something. Well, who am I trying to lie to? They're meant to teach me something. Something I know and yet pretend to never have heard of. In all honesty I have a lot to learn and I've got to let go of big-faced concepts about myself. I'll be small. I'll remain small and I'll accept being that. I'm too young to be big and it takes some time to get rid of one's youth.

Life is like that... In the pause between two heartbeats, the curse of broken promises, foolish plans and bitter separation, is undone by the simplest notion of love.

an important reminder

Metaphorically resonant…

A magnificent piece that I came across on soundcloud. 

Dear Hank. As I was reading, I had a revelation: without the little voice in your head, you couldn't read, couldn't think, etc. Do you know how to explain that little voice?? Am I hearing my own voice, but in my head? If so, do toddlers have that voice in their head when processing information? How is this little voice generated? I confused myself asking these questions, so I'm not sure that I've fully gotten what I've asked across. But it mostly is: what is this voice and how did it get there?

The little voice is a construction your mind uses to analyze itself and the world. The little voice saying all of its little words is the culmination of billions of years of evolution and hundreds of thousands of years of culture. The little voice is both you and the thing that created you. No one understands the little voice. It’s probably best not to think too much about it.

(via https://vine.co/v/eqZrIDZ2uUH)

EVERYONE NEEDS THIS ON THEIR BLOG.