My only key to write is to get me sitting amid the crowd. There I write the fastest and the best.
Sitting in my apartment and staring at my dead furnitures are no help. I stare at them then my mind starts to go blank till completely blank. Blankness swallows my ideas and never give them back.
Today I sat in a Starbucks on Adam Street in Chicago, I wrote fast and knew what I needed to write. It was very efficient.
The crowd always gives me the best motivation to write and many ideas. Shame on the blankness. The blankness really screws me up. Not not me, I suppose actually. Blankness is deadly to all writers. Writing is of contents. Contents are of ideas. Ideas are of NO blankness. I am not yet a professional writer but as much as I like writing, I hate the full mind of blankness. I feel so lame.
Life is all about various forms. You don’t have to be a kind person if you don’t want to, and you can enjoy being mean. I do that sometimes to the ones who are or were mean to me. They don’t deserve my kindness.
I guess the key is of yourself, myself, ourselves, or themselves.
Getting to know what I am capable of and how to get better is important.
Getting to know the happiness and what brings it is also important.
The key is always selfish and differs from one to another. No master keys to life exist. Or is there even a key? Hard to tell.
Don’t call me creepy here for loving to watch the crowd. It’s very interesting. Thinking of the crowd, finally I wrote this blog of KEYs, word provided by Vanessa.