My words will either attract a strong mind or offend a weak one.
“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure…”
(Stephen King in Shawshank Redemption)
images: Anonymous and Simoendli
People who happened to stumble upon my blog sometimes asked me where in Idaho I am located, or if I like living there. One person even inquired about hiking trails in Idaho, and every time it happened I can’t help but laugh. I never had been in Idaho let alone in the United States. The name of my blog is derived from a movie of River Phoenix with the same title. It’s about a homeless street kid, a metaphor for a lonely, loveless drifter who has no defense against a world that can take his money, his heart, and his life. My Own Private Idaho is a film almost unbearably sad to watch. It resonates strongly with me.
I always have been a fan of Rio ever since I first saw him in movie adaptation of Stephen King’s book Stand By Me. The boy had depth and can convey range of emotions without being in your face. What a pity he is no longer with us.
I love the film, I adore River, Stephen King is my favourite author and I like the sound of: My-Own-Private-Idaho in my head, especially the ‘private’ part, it sums up what my blog is all about: personal thoughts, views and experiences I wish to convey to the readers for whatever reasons.
For a tagline I decided to go on the road less traveled and use the constant state of my mind instead of going the catchy way or tweaking my name into a sort of anagram. I never thought of search engines when I was creating my blog. In fact, I did not know the existence of them that time and I could not care less. I still don’t give a damn.
My tagline reads like this:
“My thoughts are colourful fast-moving screen saver’s slides show with badly connected international radio playing in the background…”
I don’t know if it’s catchy, clever, original or funny and frankly I don’t care. Like the overall design of my blog, it has to please me first before I can think of pleasing anybody. It’s my house/home after all. If I cannot be comfortable in my own abode, how can I be hospitable to others? How can I be inspired to write if I dislike my work place? No, I believe in putting your own domain in order first before you go on exploring outside
So, that’s it. That’s how the name and tagline of my blog came to being. I hope some people could appreciate it. Let me leave you with a little nugget of wisdom from the late actor himself:
“There’s not another road anywhere that looks like this road—I mean, exactly like this road. It’s one kind of place. One of a kind, like someone’s face. Like a fucked-up face.”
~ River Phoenix, My Own Private Idaho
I commented on someone’s post today about a book written by a woman who grew up in a country where she was an outsider. I said:
“As an immigrant who is by now living longer in my host country than my place of origin, I can relate so very much with her story. Though I tried so hard to fit in, I can’t change my appearance. I can never be one of “them” nor can I go back being what I was. I am hovering between worlds, not here nor there.”
Thinking about what I’ve said few hours later, it made me realize that being an outsider practically sums up my entire existence. Not only from my very own family but the world in general. Being “different” and introvert, honest and true to myself ensured that I will always be just outside the gate/perimeter of any community or group I happened to come across roaming on this planet.
Which reminds me of something I wrote a while ago…
‘Home’ can be a very complicated concept… It gets confusing when people ask me where I call, ‘home’. It’s an emotive word and I can’t really answer the question in a single sentence.
In a day-to-day sense Europe is home… after living here for over 27 years, how could I not consider it that way… but sometimes I wonder if when people ask about ‘home’ do they mean someone’s roots? If so__ it could even get more complex since I don’t have neither of the two. As for the reasons why… well, I can’t give an easy answer to that, not even in a whole paragraph. Come to think of it, I need at least few volumes to deal with the issue…
Someday, I too will going to write a memoir about growing up as an outsider, about my time living with ghosts and goblins and other unspeakable creatures. I will probably give it a title like: Rolling Stone, Fragments Of Forever or simply Limbo or Purgatory. I will talk about buying myself a life sentence looking for my rainbow connection, looking for the place where I belong, the safe haven most people called home…
images: VincentNoir and BenMRHall
Why I am here blogging publicly instead of keeping a private journal…
The initial answer to this question is: I don’t know. Perhaps I like the way my writing looks in black and white, sorted out in a blog page and accompanied by interesting images. It’s like decorating a house; you can continue tweaking it till you are satisfied and add some more. If you get tired of the layout, you can change, delete and tweak again. One thing I love about online journaling is the fact that it is easier to adapt it to one’s taste and clean, especially clean. With one swift motion, you can erase anything that is not according to your taste, you can correct grammar too, with or without tools. Sometimes people offer (un)solicited advice which help you to grow as a writer.
Speaking of help, there are so many ways to further hone ones skills in writing being offered online like this Blogging U. courses which are not only extremely helpful but fun as well. Something which are not readily available when writing a personal diary. So, that’s probably why I’m doing it publicly.
About topics… well, I don’t have specific topics in mind since my blog is a personal reflection of my day to day thoughts and past experiences hence all my posts are labeled uncategorized.
Again, I have no certain audiences in mind when I started publishing. Anyone who can relate, feel addressed, interested or simply curious are all welcome as long as they are willing to exercise respect and common courtesy while visiting my page.
What I hope to accomplish in blogging… to impart knowledge and lessons learned from my mistakes as I stumble and fall through life. Hopefully, it will give some people head start in dealing with unforeseen circumstances, and to entertain them a bit with my anecdotes and unusual encounters.
I hope this gives the readers and fellow bloggers some insight about me and what my blog is all about.
Leafing through a magazine, I saw an interesting article. This is the paragraph that caught my attention:
“I have an entire wardrobe of I am planning to lose weight. I have had this wardrobe for years and I continue to add to it. I am building a wardrobe for a life I do not have and will probably never have. For a theoretical life that does not really matter because nobody is telling me that if I do not lose weight, I will not be loved.”
At first, I found this revelation hilarious. Maybe because it is somewhat recognizable even though I don’t reach (thank you Lord) that state yet and still fit in most of my clothes from 25 years ago (yes I keep clothes that long- fashion recycles itself, no?) but on second thought when the message really sinks its claws into my understanding I begun to realize that sooner or later we are going to get there (I know I held the time at bay for the longest period without really trying but lately…) whether we like it or not.
Either it is about weight, gravity winning or something else, time is everybody’s nemesis and deep down inside, if we are being honest to ourselves, we can all hear that little voice inside our heads telling us what we fear the most; that we are not going to be loved if we don’t look like a certain way…
images: rockgem and smth_fresh
“Today I vow to release all cords of attachment that no longer serve me.”
Staying true to oneself is the hardest part of any journey whether in real life or in cyber space. Once or twice I have been tempted to divert away from my path just to test some reaction and cater to the needs of others. I wanted to know how it feels to be a part of the majority, to belong… But oh boy, I sure do regret that experiment. It was like a persistent itch in the inner walls of my brain that kept on itching till I corrected my course. I know that there are some serious consequences if one decided to be who one really is but I rather tackle a risk of abandonment than not being able to recognize and keep my own voice…
The sky is deep, the sky is dark.
The light of the stars is so damn stark.
When I look up, I fill with fear.
If all we have is what lies here,
This lonely world, this troubled place,
Then cold dead stars and empty space…
Well, I see no reason to persevere,
No reason to laugh or shed a tear,
No reason to sleep or ever to wake,
No promises to keep, and none to make.
And so at night I still raise my eyes
To study the clear but mysterious skies
That arch above us, as cold as stone.
Are you there, God? Are we alone?
~ The book of counted sorrows
Header image: chizue
Last night…
Last night I was half sitting in bed my head propped up with two large pillows looking out the bay window watching the empty streets devoid of any celebration waiting for the exact hour I could swallow my cherry gumballs (6 hours in between said the doctor as if I don’t know the rules) thinking: here comes another year. Yesterday the neighbour across the street turned off their Christmas lights and took them inside, maybe they cannot wait for the year to end or perhaps they already received their electric bill; I don’t know…
After a time I heard fireworks accompanied by shouting and some other noises I did not care to decipher for my head ached like crazy. It went on for about five minutes. When I thought it was over, suddenly it started all over again. I saw the next door neighbour came out and stood on the middle of the street hands on the hips trying to see where the commotion was coming from and I thought good luck for even from my elevated position, I could hear the noises but I couldn’t even glimpse one single spark of any fireworks.
I wanted to knock on the window and wave but I saw that he was not in a good mood. I can envision him writing a letter to the mayor’s office first thing in the morning complaining about the incident. He always writes to the mayor everything he’s not happy about concerning our neighbourhood. From inside their house I could hear Ricky the dog barking like his life depends on it and I thought: that’s why; the dog probably woke him up.
Watching him walking to and fro obviously irritated because Ricky’s Cousin Jimmy who lives across the street decided to join in with the howling and I remember thinking to myself: this guy needs to be transported to my country of origin around this time of the year so he can have a proper lesson about how to celebrate New Year in style. But I’m almost sure he will likely to have a heart attack if ever.
If these noises which are not even close to practice when it comes to the real thing bothers him already…
The merry making ceased as suddenly as it started, the street gone ghostly quiet again, the neighbour stepped inside and locked the door; there goes another year and everything that had happened within its realm, gone, never to be seen again. I don’t know if it was because I was (and still is) sick and my head hurt(s) or I’m becoming a sentimental fool but I found myself crying dry tears…
MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO 
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