Thirteenth Diary

After I quit my job at the Hotel, I have been trying very hard to stay rested. Here, the key word is "trying" because resting is not something I can do naturally. So while trying to rest, my mind has been busily occupied by thoughts and imaginations of a story, a long narrative that I am hoping to conceive in the future. Problems and troubles run in my mind because I simply have no guide, thus, no happy outcome. This has made me drop in at a Creative Writing class today that runs every monday instructed by a Poet, Victor Coleman and a Professor, Michael Boughn. They are two inspiring people who give me chances to stay engaged in literature, poetry and arts even after school. Every time I go in, I am surrounded by language that penetrates into the world of poetic endeavor, freeing me from all the restraints and anxiety I constantly inhale in my ordinary days. In this class, words of my peers and its atmosphere inspire me and somehow, without knowing what they mean I am able to indulge myself to the feel of the words. I concentrate on this idea of feeling and emotion a lot every time I talk or write because the power of feeling is like the power of air, something that we take for granted but their absence also means death, both physical and spiritual. By being with people who understand our humane thirst for poetry, stories and emotion in the lives of the contemporary, I am able to truly rest my head down and be thankful for the power of words and emotion that they bring to us inside.

This breath I take, this highly artsy-energy I take from this class is contagious and makes me want to write-- to save myself. More clearly, I wish to bring back some painful yet meaningful memories alive from my childhood and write about my parent's journey as immigrants. I have blogged about my parents when I quoted that they are the two brave warriors for making such a big decision, sacrificing their everything to come here for a better future. I wish to write to all the warriors who make decisions to migrate to another country and comfort them so that they know they are not alone. Like my parents felt once. It could be wrong to say that every pain can be cured, but it can be treated. The hardships and trauma that has led to happiness for my parents can be looked as something small and insignificant, but they also left many marks of sideburns and aftermath, which I wish to share with people who are willing to listen. I believe in the healing power of literature, that stories can move a human mind by allowing an emotional sensation to take place in the heart. Through this emotional rollarcoaster, we are bound to find ourselves in a much happier state, also able to find acceptance and contentment in the world we, once quite willingly created. And this is what I wish to save by writing my story.

I am thankful that I have mentors who are willing to guide me through this rollarcoaster ride. I am thankful that I have a goal, and that Victor and Leslie was sitting right there beside me, at Harbord House bar today at 9:00p.m. Leslie holding my hand, and Victor giving me hope to strive towards it. This is a life-long dream that I begin as an amateur, both in writing and life, but it's okay because I'm living it, and in my dictionary the word Living means Growing.