Hello! It’s kind of refreshing to write to somebody I don’t personally know and writing in a language, which isn’t my mother tongue is adding to the pleasure of the whole odyssey.
I’m Otko (it’s a pet name of course, but I love it, because it’s invented by myself when I was a kid and most of my friends and my whole family calls me this way), in my early 20’s, an university undergrad student. I’m obsessed with theatre, writing, traveling, coffee (no kidding, I’m a coffee addict!).
Right now I’m trying to write a play and even though it’s great fun, it’s kind of the hardest thing I’ve ever done as well. It takes time, energy and most of the time what comes out doesn’t cover a bit of your initial vision and you have to scrap it and start over. But it’s part of the pleasure. Or so I’d love to think. Anyway, it’s something I have the feeling I’m naturally good at and I need time to learn and grow. And lots of work. Writing is something you do in solitude and it’s often stimulating, but sometimes you just want to go outside and meet people and talk to people. And theatre gives this opportunity. It’s so much different from movies and that’s what I love about it the most. It’s an unique storytelling form and I feel I could express enough through it. But above all, right now — I can’t talk about what I’m writing (it’s a rule!) and I should focus on writing it. And in the meanwhile, I’ll come here every day to write a bit about myself, about my habits, friends, conversations, love affair(s) and anything else that could be part of the life of a twentysomething.
Now I’m going to grab a coffee (no milk, no sugar), read a bit in the Iris Murdoch novel I got last week – The Sea, the Sea (I love it; it’s about theatre, a famous aging theatre director talking about his life while being isolated in a house by the sea he bought recently). I love the language. I love the character. I love the chaos in this novel, because it’s really structured like someboy just trying to express everything he’s feeling and thinking about on the paper, without thinking about coming up with a well structured narrative. Of course, this is simply a trick, but it’s working. And I love to get lost in this thick novel. I starte it two days during the night and I read about twenty pages into it, then left the book aside and started thinking about it — about its truth and about its stories and character and names popping up like if they’ve really been part of somebody’s life and then left it. I wonder how I’m going to feel once I get that old. Once I don’t really care about life, but about memories. About nurturing the memories and hoping not to forget. Or to be able to understand what one experienced.
It’s dark and rainy here. It’s a cold November night and I feel I could start writing once I get my coffee. But I just can’t stop writing here. Maybe it’s because of the pleasure trying to express my thoughts in English OR maybe because I’m a typical procrastinator OR maybe because I just feel fine right now. Anyway, I’m going to take the coffee, read a little bit and then take a long walk in the rainy evening. Maybe calling a friend for coffee. You know, I’m addicted to coffee. Or maybe just talking to somebody — not talking, chatting. Or maybe even a phone call, even though I don’t feel like it right now. OK. I started talking like a character in a play, which is bad. That’s it.
By the way (and it’s my closing paragraph), today I learned a new idiom in English — that’s what she wrote. Maybe because I heard it in a movie about relationships, I’ll always associate it with a missed opportunity. But right now, I’m using it like that’s it.
P.S. I hope someboy read that actually.