Write down my stories

I hate peole who doesnt understand me, my life its ful of insecurities, rejection..i never want anyone to be a part of my life co’z i’m afraid they well leave me too..
and hate me..I dont listen co’z i know it will hurt me..

This all started whn I thot “ getting married” wud b my last thing in my wish list. “why?”- thts a gud question t ask. And my answer wud b the same as many girls- he was not rite for me or things din work out. he cheated on me or he was not serious abt me. N sth additional for me was- I seem to fall for the guys.
So to bring a change in the whole system of my love life, I thot…for once let me b a man. Man in the sense- sumone tougher, sumone iniquitous..sumone more like a playboy. I will hve my intimacy shown as much required. N I promised not to giv in too much. Tht comes along with promising myself not to b the goody goody… kind.n most importantly I want to hve sex like a man. Which totals to sumhow n awkwardly tht even I things goes wrong..i want to get ovr things n feel nth in the end.atlist , I will nt show thm tht. I wanted 2 the man in my life.
So it started tht way…..it started good. Whn I thot of this I was recovering frm a brk up.in few mnths I received this very interesting mail frm this popular site in our country called “hi5”.he had a spontaneous profile which caught my eyes. He seemed funny n naughty…sth tht I wanted in my partner to hve a gud sense of humour. so I responed to tht mail in 2 days. He responded bck immediately…n sth tht I loved in his mails were tht thy were abt simple things but written comically. Reading his mails were a pleasure and it became like an addiction in few days. And sth more interesting we both were playing games in words-we wud give riddles to knw our xct names or abt any matter.it was like – nth comes str8. if u want to knw sth- dig in it. So it was fun!! Really was…
And in few days he quoted frm a song-“ sumtimes the last thing u want in life comes in first; sumtimes the first thing u want comes in last” n so he asked in first- if I wud like to chat online;talk ovr phn…or meet in person. And I made the point of the song- right. But I was not willing to giv him my messenger ID so easily.

Proof is at www.mollypeugh.blogspot.com

I’ve been blogging about my Peace Corps experience in Romania. I have nearly 50 entries with pictures from a variety of places and events. The number of readers increases with each entry. While I initially started this so I would have a journal of my experience and so friends and family back home would be able to follow the journey, it has become so much more than that.

I still want to do this, but now is not a time in my life for me to have it listed here. Instead, I find myself often verbally telling stories in a manner that helps others, so, it isn’t that my stories are not being shared – it is just that the sharing is more targeted and hopefully more timely.

Like I said, I do want to do this eventually, but now is not quite the time for me to have it be in the written down form.

When I have fearsby John Keats

_{WHEN I have fears that I may cease to beBefore my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,Before high piled books, in charact’ry,Hold like rich garners the full-ripen’d grain;When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face,Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,And think that I may never live to traceTheir shadows, with the magic hand of chance;And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!That I shall never look upon thee more,Never have relish in the faery powerOf unreflecting love! – then on the shoreOf the wide world I stand alone, and thinkTill Love and Fame to nothingness do sink}

I love that poem. I love it because it scares me so much. Those first 2 lines (When I have fears that I may cease to be, Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain. . . ) put the emotions that I’ve had for most of my life into perfect, powerful, poetic words. What if I die, and all my ideas, my stories, fictional and non, are lost forever? Where do they go? My whole vision, point of view, everything, imprisoned forever, with no hope of escape.

That’s why I want to get everything I can get down, while I’m still able to. My voice can be heard and if can get one person, just one person to say, “Hey, I never thought about it that way before.” I can go happy.

. . .

This is a huge afterthought, but it makes me so angry that John Keats is no longer alive. I mean, being a student of history, I realize that everyone that was someone is dead as of right now, but he’s the only one that it actually gets to me. I read his work, and can only think “Why, why, why?!”
I know he died in 1821 (just a tad bit before my time…) but he was only 25 and he had studied surgery and had a life of tradgedies and most famous poets had nothing by 25 and it’s just not fair!!!! Ah!!!!

. . . Ahem.

Sorry.

Point of entry: I should write about my experiences, before it’s too late.

Thank you.

I need to learn the art of telling the story in a manner devoid of context so that the educational value can come across without extraneous details of personal histry coming into play. When I have done that, and then written down all the stories that I feel have educational value, then I will feel like I can mark this goal as “done”. Sound reasonable?

too large for my busy life right now. I think my “write more” goal should be sufficient. It somewhat encompasses this, and I’ve not lived long enough to write memoirs. So there.

“Write down my stories” – what does this mean?

Write as detailed as possible of an autobiography as there be?

Write stories as they occur? Spend lots of time writing down as many stories as one can remember? Do both?

What does it mean to you to “Write down my stories”?

I started a passion, to write. Since I live with my couple, my inspiration dried. I want to do it again.