My inspiration is coming back. I can feel it, hiding somewhere deep within me. A little bit shy, still, but almost ready to surrender to my will and come out from its secret little hiding place. It’s been a while, too. I tend to lose it when I get stressed and start panicking about school stuff. It’s not over, though, I still have three tests next week, and one 3000 word essay to write (the teacher only now told us about it), but I’m trying to take it easy. Monday – on my 23th birthday – I will have a test for English, and the next day for Literature. So this weekend will be dedicated to study. I’m happy, though, that the projects are almost over, and have decided that the weekend and next week I will not spare a thought to this last one, if I don’t have the time for it. If I do, why not.
Today I am taking a day off. I have cleaned the house, finally, so that it’s once again more or less livable, and taken it easy the rest of the day. I feel so much more relaxed, it’s amazing. I feel like I should do this more often. The only problem is that because I know I have things I have to do, especially this new essay thing, I want to go ahead and do it, so all day I’ve been telling myself ‘not today’. I know that if I started working on it, the stress would immediately return, and so would the pain. So I’ve forced myself to stay away from it. Maybe tomorrow I’ll still feel as eager and attack my notes with as much will as I’m holding in now.
I did manage to let myself have a little fun writing, though, and wrote a little poem. I started off in English, sort of poking about, seeing if there’s really anything in me ready to give out some artsy, creative sorts of feelings, but in the middle I switched to Finnish. I had a line in my head, in English, but then I just told myself to try it out in Finnish, and it sort of went on by itself from there, so I let it. It’s not much, but these days I’m happy if I can squeeze out two lines…
To finish off this relatively random little post, I will tell you something I’ve had in my head today, for some reason. Some time ago, I was sort of dragged to this one lecture. I had thought about going, but it was at the same time as my Italian class, so I couldn’t have gone. However, while I was waiting for the class to begin, this one lady put a note on the door saying that there will be no class afterall. By this time, I had forgotten about the lecture, and was about to leave. I guess it was raining, or then I had to talk to a teacher or something, because I took a ‘shortcut’ through the Humanities Department building, where these sort of lectures usually take place. So, on my way down the stairs – all happy, of course, to go home early – I met one of my teachers, who greeted me saying ‘Oh hi, great that you’re here, I have to go get something from my office, but I’ll be right there and we can start!’ I tried the usual ‘uh..?’, but he ran up the stairs and I was left alone. Since I really liked this particular teacher, and since no one usually attends the lectures there, I was left with no choice but to sullenly make my way to the auditorium.
This turned out to be the best thing in that week, or even the month, I can’t remember when exactly this happened. The person giving the lecture was a poet and writer and whatnot – and I feel so horrible for not remembering his name right now – who’s worked with all these great actors and movies and everything – in the USA, so it’s a much bigger thing to me than if it was some Portuguese dude. I don’t remember much of the lecture right now, unfortunately, but I remember one thing, and this is the thing that I’ve had in my head today. He told us that it doesn’t really matter how good your writing is, but you can only call yourself a poet if someone else calls you that. You can write poetry all you want, but you will only be a poet when someone else decides you’re one.
I liked that. Now I’m just waiting for someone to call me a poet… Or a writer. Or whatever really that has anything to do with whatever I’m doing here.