I write because…

I write because it is a way of sharing my experiences, of preserving them in some way so that they are never lost?

I write because it is a way of expressing myself, particularly those feelings that completely overcome me, that make me feel alive or are completely new. Those feelings that I can’t and don’t want to forget or maybe that I wish I could but yet I just can’t seem to let them go.

At times I have worried that by writing about and sharing these experiences I am somehow ‘exorcising’ them and that this means they may be lost forever – the feelings I experienced gone and banished from my emotional memory. While this may be a healthy process for moving on from negative experiences, there are some times that I enjoy remembering and as the feelings rush back, it makes me feel alive again and it’s almost as if I am there.

I write because it helps me to make sense of my experiences but in this process are my memories lost to the page? There are some experiences that I had such a strong urge to share and I carried them with me until I found the motivation to set up my blog. Once I had poured my encounters into my words, I found that I struggled to recollect them in the same way. I could no longer be transported back to the streets of Paris, I had forfeited my emotional memory in my bid to share my experiences.

I write because it helps me to make sense of my experiences but are some feelings better left a mystery? By writing I am choosing to clarify the situation, I must decide on the words to express my meaning but by doing this I run the risk of choosing the wrong word. Could this skew my memory and manipulate my experience into something that it was not? Are some experiences better left free to survive with their blurry edges, without being pinned down by words and redefined by the clarity of our current perception of our memory? Do we risk turning our experience into something different by attaching words that don’t belong? How much is the way we present our experiences influenced by what we believe will sound better to our audience?

I want to share my experiences but I don’t want to lose the feelings that these experiences gave me. I seek clarity and definition yet I don’t want to sacrifice the raw emotion or initial experience. This has made me slightly wary and has made me question what to share and what to nurture. Yet I had the desire to share and I do not doubt that I will feel this again. I really hope that my emotional memories survive regardless of this. I also hope that the two can exist synonymously.


 

This morning I went back and read my piece about Paris. I found myself reminded of so many aspects of the trip that I had ‘forgotten’ and now with a little effort, my emotional memory can also manage to muster up the feelings evoked while I was there.

Reading my first attempt at explaining why I write makes me realise that I have focussed quite heavily on the negative. I write because I want to share my experiences and thoughts – I do not see this as a bad thing – quite the opposite.

There is still a slight fear of ‘losing’ something to the page but when I think about it, I know that as time moves on and our lives continue, we can often lose sight of ideas that were once so clear. Memories can be misplaced, regardless of whether we have recorded them or not and in this sense, the writing can be a reminder.

I carried those memories so close to me, partly because I needed to and partly because I was waiting to share them. I have described them with as much loyalty to my perception as I could and looking back, I think this acts as a happy reminder.

Life in Brisbane

West End
A hostel with no reception
The vegan cafe round the corner
Some Rooms, community
Jacaranda right across from the front door, so much purple
Balcony doors, washing on the line, possums on the balcony
Hot days, Balmy nights
Possums in the room… eating bananas!
Storms, walking home in the rain
Balcony doors open, thunder and lightning
Heat, but so much rain, balcony doors closed.
So much sunshine! Blue skies, Beautiful sunsets
Two minute walk to the supermarket
People on the street corner
Shock at cold nights and short days in the Winter
Free live music every weekend
The Motor Room
Live jazz on a Monday!
Boundary Street Markets
All night buses
So much food, so many restaurants, so much choice
$5 Dominos
Room sharing, so many faces, new friends, different languages
The River…
South Bank: flowers, walkways, buskers, performers, live music, water, lights, markets, walking
Job hunting – and ‘failing’, almost giving up
Sitting on the bed, snacking, laptop, sleep
Volunteering then temping, saving money
Nights out, crazy dancing, visiting friends, forming bonds, finding support
Roots beginning to grow?
Salsa, Yoga, Italian ice-cream, more walking
Decisions.
Hasty goodbyes, the only way to leave

 

There are so many images and sensations from my time spent in Brisbane, so many experiences sandwiched into a short space of time. So many relationships, however fleeting, that I struggle to place my feelings into words. Maybe it is not right to place the feelings into words, or maybe I am not ready. Maybe I am still continuing this journey, still deciding. Still experiencing and still holding something tangible that lives on to me.


 

I’m not sure if it comes across in my enthusiasm for all the memories, but the first thing that attracted me to Brisbane and West End was the chilled out and friendly vibe. West End has a liveliness and buzz, whilst being relaxed and laid back.