Multiple lives

It's a new month in our ever-decaying lives... Happy February everyone! Well, St. Valentines Day is in sight, so find a partner everyone, share this day that carries the burden of a faceless celebration! No, Valentines Day is not really my favourite time of the year, not because I am some lonely madwoman (not now anyway) but because it forces people to find someone to share a day to celebrate their love. Just a day. Love should be celebrated universally everyday! Peace and love, man, peace and love. Don't think that I am going to have a go at Valentines Day now, oh no, the point of this is far from whatever I am saying now. The great thing about Valentines Day though, is the amount of courage and confidence some people just mysteriously gain without effort.

Yes, that dribbling fool in the corner, so desperate to please on a day such as this, will do anything to tell that one glorious god or goddess their undying eternal flame of love that they bear for them each day. Eventually, with the strength in their heart and a pound on the head, they move forth, exhibiting their display of enticing cakes or cards to win the heart of their imaginary lover.

This is me. I'm the dribbling fool in the corner. Not in the sense that I'm the lonely one on Valentines Day, but in the way that Valentines Day acts as a (very loose) metaphor for Theatre and its place in my heart.

Bet you didn't see that coming! It's so difficult to explain how much drama and the arts influence me in my everyday life, but I'll try my best. In my everyday life, I'm not the most socially confident person in the world; I freeze up around people I don't know, I get uncomfortable with the strangest topics and I have no idea how to talk like I write, though I'd absolutely love to. Nothing works for me in the real world, and I'm sure a lot of people know what I mean. You see that smooth talking gentleman? The one in the centre of the room, whose saliva stays strictly in his mouth. That's who you want to be, that's who has life in the palm of his hands and can stroll through it pretty much unscarred.

Konstantin Stanislavski

For my whole life, I wanted to posses these superpowers, but sadly, the world doesn't work like that and you can't change into the perfect person overnight. Growing up, however, I challenged that, I turned to acting in hope that it might set me free. I don't hate myself so much that I wish I was completely different in every way, but I used acting as a way of becoming someone else - just for a fraction of a day.

There is nothing quite like living in the mind of a completely different person, even just for a second. Stanislavski, the father of realism and the practitioner that suggested idea of using ones own past emotions to depict a fictional character. His main aim was to try and display the truth and "experience the part". This, being so incredibly irresistible to me, was my way of life.

It wasn't until two years ago when all those past people I pretended to play caught up with me. Emotions started flooding back, memories I hadn't even gone through came rushing to me, holding on with everything they had. These were real people to me - all of them - they were me. In the space of those two years, I developed a complete passion for discovering more people and personalities that I could carry with me. More and more the parts started getting further and further apart. I was split between completely polarised characters, I was torn between good and bad and their influence took a hold on me.

I hope this doesn't sound too unpleasant, but I really don't mean it to do so. Alright, I'll try and put it simply and less terrifying:

Everyone is born into this world with one life. That life is always moving forward, so there is no time to skip parts or rewind moments to live them how you should have. It never stops, not for anyone - the past will never change. It does for me. I change it all the time, I don't live just one life, I live multiple lives and I can relive them over and over again.

I can be a saint, plastered across the walls as a martyr loved by the people. I can be a seductress from the 20s and marry a millionaire. I can be a junkie who has no control whatsoever. I can live all of these lives. So, when I am on my deathbed thinking back upon my life, I won't just see the one I've lived, but every single one I have experienced in my life time. These multiple lives are all true, they are based on my real emotions and real memories, just picked and chosen to create a new life.

You don't only live once in the world of theatre. You live as many lives as you can, because time doesn't stop for you, it carries on - live in the mind of several lifetimes - that's my trick to immortality.

Norliza.

Do words get you hot?

I find it a perfectly normal and admirable condition to be sexually aroused by a well written book.

Hold on, let me skip back a few chapters in my brain, and attempt to explain myself.

I'm not talking about books that are supposed to get you off, I'm not going to do a thorough review on 50 shades (it doesn't deserve one), I mean, just a really really good book. The sort of book with an enticing storyline, realistic and memorable characters, relationships you can feel building and shifting, a book you finish and think to yourself: "well, I feel like being a better person today!" Yeah, we all have one of those, and if you haven't, bloody find one before you turn into a terrible person.

I recently finished a novel called The Paris Wife by the wonderful Paula McLain. It's a recollection of the heartbreaking story of Ernest Hemingway's first wife Hadley and their dramatic journey through their more than turbulent marriage. I love historical novels with real-life characters made immortal through literature. I put down the book seeming somewhat bewildered - I knew what was coming, there are no surprises in the storyline, it's all purely factual - but - it was so personal, so easy to understand events with the psychological state in place.

The young Hemingway

It's a wonderfully well-written piece, and, let's be honest, if you have read it or are reading it, it's pretty much impossible not to fall in love with Mr. Hemingway. I challenge you if you don't. Well, in all, the story is pretty depressing (as you would imagine) but by the end of it, I just felt all hot and bothered. I don't want people thinking that that's my aphrodisiac and start buying me some Charlotte Brontë, but it makes me seek out company a lot more than I normally do.

I've proposed a theory (so, brace yourself); being immersed in the sheer artistic value of a good book makes you feel important.

It's great to be valued so highly, you are a spectator, watching from afar as someone talks to you about their life - no one else - just you. Ohhh, it gives me chills. This elevated sense of self-importance really gives you an ego boost; you are more confident, you carry yourself well, you pick up your feet and talk with such grace as your mind fixates on yourself. It's rewarding to be selfish - we are, after all, incredibly selfish creatures, forced to battle it out in a world together. When someone gives you the honour of peering deep into their life, well, you can't help but be flattered.

The combination of words to make beautiful sentences that give you chills, oh dear, you have not lived until a book has given you bumps all down your neck. There is meaning in all this rubbish I'm typing out right now... Why the hell don't you read more? Words have the power to change lives, to grant wishes, to exceed confidence and gain an understanding in places you've never even dreamt of.

I want to live it. I want to create a world to live in where love and passion and sex are no longer taboos, I want pain and heartbreak at my throat, I want adventure and magic that is seemingly impossible, I want to live a fictional life and die in a fictional world.

Norliza. 

Where's my mind?

So, what the hell goes in this little box? I've written the title, I've got the ideas, but where do I go from here?

It's hard to decipher what goes on in anyone's mind without cracking it open and taking a peep. It is because we are always hiding, always masking our mind with rubbish society throws at us. I apologise in advance, I don't have answers, I just have opinions, and this may get a bit negative a lot of the time. That's the big thing - society - blame it all on "society" man! Of course, every human being needs someone or something to project blame onto, anything to divert responsibility from themselves. We are a selfish species. The way you think is clouded by what "they" think ("they" is "the man" who controls the "mainstream" and the "corporations" dude.)

Joking aside, I actually do believe we can't see what is truly in our mind based upon the everyday doings of modern society. We are so conscious about what others think about us more than what we think about ourselves. Therefore, no one can truly, in essence, "be themselves" around anyone, no matter how close they are. Apologies for the overuse of sarcastic quotation marks... I don't mean to sound like a pedantic twat, but it is starting to annoy me as well.

So, want to know where my mind is at? As far away from human beings as can be physically possible without getting it lost in the vastness of our universe. Yeah, I'm pretty fucking spaced out. In my opinion, it is safe to keep your mind and your body at a distance as not to be too caught up in reality and life's everyday doings and loosing an identity all together. Growing up in a pretty isolated childhood, I retreated to my imagination, which, by the age of five, was up in the clouds. I know, all children have a beautiful imagination which I yearn to recoil safely back into, but my imagination was completely separate to my everyday life.

Getting your head around all of this? I'm not sure I am entirely...

I watched a fascinating TEDTalks the other day, and the author Elizabeth Gilbert was giving the talk on creativity and, rather interestingly, explored why suicide was common amongst the creative thinkers. First off, I'm not here to talk about the talk she gave (I have a link at the bottom for those interested), but  I'd like to give you my answer to why suicide is more common with the creative.

To be creative, one must think like no one else. Their minds must work like no one else. They always question where their mind is and dedicate their life to discover it. I find it utterly incredible. Of course, I am speaking entirely out of my own experience and how my own mind tends to work, but I believe that those who dedicate their life to creativity are bound to feel the same. Well then, how does this relate to the dreaded taking of ones own life? Well, some people just never find their mind.

It's a horrible thought, and one that I've been dreading my whole life. Put it like this; your entire life you've been dedicating yourself to unlocking the secret to something in your own head, but you have no idea how or why or where so you simply question it, or express it, or hold on to it and let no one else in. No one can possibly think the same as you, they can't help you - so you panic.

It is the most lonely feeling in the world, and it's been haunting me my entire life.
It's that breaking point in a person's mind when they realise that there is nothing left for them in the world and that no one is ever going to listen.

I'm truly sorry for the melancholic post, but I hope this really reaches out to some people, if not, I hope it was just a smashing read.

TEDtalks link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86x-u-tz0MA


Norliza.

The Dream of a Libertine

Snappy title don't you think? 

I find it a great wonder what the word libertine actually means, and where people who classify themselves as it stand. It sounds rather lovely, doesn't it? As, of course, we are all familiar with the gratifying and attractive word liberty - an utterly beautiful and, yet, impossible idea. I have grown up feeling a longing to be closer to this mere seven letter word, to understand it, to shape it and to achieve its wonder someday. Of course, that could all be rubbish. I mean, isn't it customary for a creative thinker to have some sort of flowery connection to the idea of freedom?

I do actually love the word, the curves of the letters, the shape my lips make as I say it, that subtle flick of the tongue - I'm afraid I am too flowery for my own good. This word makes writers absolutely cringe as their mind melts like butter over the idea. Absolutely beautiful. 

Libertine, however, bares a similar yet different idea. It is (as you've probably gathered a lot faster than I get to the point) a word to associate with someone, for example; he is a libertine, or I am a libertine. So obviously, with that in mind, we should think that a libertine is some sort of enigma that masters the impossible... to be completely free in mind and spirit, a beautiful and cleansed soul. This is what the word freedom deconstructs into in my mind. Well, no... it bares a slightly different emblem, here are several definitions I found:

Libertine:

"One who acts without moral restraint; a dissolute person."

"A person, esp. a man, who behaves without moral principles."

"A person who is unrestrained by convention or morality;specifically : one leading a dissolute life."


Now, you may as well be thinking, those definitions aren't utterly, ridiculously shocking - they aren't. They are, however, nothing like how I would have defined the word. Without getting too emotionally flustered and back to sounding like a retired poet trying to get back in the game, I'd just like to say - why the repeated word of dissolute. Another word that I would probably over-think to define. A person who is free in pleasure and self-indulgence would be a good way of putting it... however, that sounds a bit egoistic. To me, I don't think freedom necessarily leads to self-importance and putting oneself above all. 

Sure, some are going to criticize me right about now. If you are free, you don't follow the rules, you don't listen to authority, you do everything for yourself and no one else. Well, I'd just like to point out - no. Freedom means, there is no one to tell you what to do or how to think, so why don't we freely share our thoughts and actions and just make life a little easier for everyone. Us humans, we may need a leader, but just the though of a community each with their own mindset, each with their own ideas can create such a vast information field.

So, what's my point before I go off into yet another rant? I think the definition of a Libertine doesn't give it much justice. When I found such an astonishing word to associate myself with freedom, I didn't think it was so restricted in its own definition! Another point is the point of morals. Morals aren't something to be tampered with, nor would I like to tamper with them, but it's a pretty flexible word. What is right and what is wrong is an ever changing dilema that just gets muddled up with the rest of my words I will never be able to understand fully. Poor me. Why would morality hold you back? I think if one should be a free-thinker one should understand themselves and know what they find is right to do and what isn't. I think a free-man has to know this in order to become free. 

Look, I don't expect you to 'get it' or find this life changing, I just wanted to get my thoughts off my chest. This is the kind of questioning I get up to in my rather exciting life, but I can't help but wonder how many people that actually read this will judge what I say with resentment. If I had my way, I'd say fuck the fuck off and let me have freedom in what I say, you do what you like and I'll do what I like and the world would be a better place. 

Imagine - all of us just drifting in our own minds, understanding everything we want to understand, being free in that sense. Then, imagine others who do the same, others with completely polarised thoughts to yourself. Imagine sharing those free thoughts with no other influence around you, and imagine what we could come up with. 

Hopefully a piece of writing slightly better than this one. 

Norliza.