Crash that ''writer's block''

How many times have you opened your computer and stared at the monitor with absolutely no idea in your mind? How many times have you stared and hoped that from somewhere an idea will hit you and you will come up with a post to revive your blog, which needs to stay active? The answer for me is – many.

Recently I realized that more you concentrate on the ''writer's block'' worse it gets. Maybe it is because there is no such thing like ''writer's block'' and it's only in our minds? Maybe by paying attention we only make it stronger? Maybe there are other ways to get rid of it, easy and fast?

Internet is flooded by different tips to boost creativity and I personally have tried many of them. Some did not work, some others did.  Below are the ones, which have been most effective for me so far.

Free your mind – stay empty

It's ok not to think about anything for a while. It's ok to free from those twisted thoughts and make some free space in your crowded mind. Think of it this way, when the idea comes, it needs a place to stay and maybe it does not come because your mind is too crowded. So free your mind and enjoy a short-term empliness.

What I do when things go wrong?

Yesterday, when the spring was almost there the winter took over again. It snowed heavily, ice covered the pavements, sun went away and we all appeared in mid-winter again. That caused plenty annoyed Facebook updates, photos and disappointed sighs. That was just a snow...

We all get bad days once in a while. Usually we can feel it from the morning. We feel it, convince yourself that it's true and start concentrating on the problems. They on their turn feel happy from the attention and show up at their best. So we feed them up and make sure that they stay in and we feel miserable for the whole day accordingly. That's what I did with many others... but not anymore.

Invisible souls

Dancing with the invisible souls

I am touching a vulnerable place

Knocking on the closed doors

I am chasing the faded days

Hugging the newborn muse

I am finding unspoken words

Being in someone else's shoes

Starts getting on my nerves

Chasing down the future

Which keeps running away

I'm feeling the pressure

Of things I wanna say

Dancing with the invisible souls

I am finding new ways

To cover up the holes

Of my thoughts and face

Me, Myself and I

Me, myself and I are sitting in a dark room and looking at each other...

None of us speaks and each of us is sunk in different mood, emotion and thoughts. Three of us are so like each other, but at the same time so different. We know everything about each other but at the same time we don't know each other completely.

When the Silence got too tense and started occupying more space in the room than we had allocated to her, Me spoke.

Me: You think it's ok to spend days doing nothing?

Silence annoyed and offended faded away...

I: Well, yes. It's cold and grey outside, I am tired and doing nothing is the perfect things to do now.

Myself: A-ha. That's just and excuse. You should do plenty of things you are not doing. Work out, cook or at least - write!

Me coughing deliberately to make the statement sound more dramatic asked:

– By the way what happened to that great book you started writing?

Myself winked to Me and both pair of eyes
smiled to each other.

Beer memories

With each sip of beer a memory enters my mind ... Memories,which have nothing in common,which are from different periods of mylife and which are nothing more than just memories. Most of them don't come back to me while I am sober J

Sip 1

Tbilisi... Nice city... City where part of my blood was made. I can feel and breathe it. I can identify myself to it, although last time I was here when I wa

s about 5. Back then I was here with my parents and no matter how strange it might sound I felt that I would not come back in a long while. I am back now – almost 30 years later...This time I am here with someone, who has become part of me. Someone with whom we walked through pain right into Tbilisi...

Where love rests....

Ever thought of where in your body love rests? Where is it born, where is it located and where inside does it live?

Is it the heart? Is it the soul?

We sort of know where the heart is, but where is the soul?

Or maybe love just travels inside and each time lays down somewhere else, just like a gipsy. Each times it knocks inside in order to let you know that it is still there, that we should not forget about its existance.

Is it always inside, or it can also be out? Does it hear us, when we call it?

Where are you love?

Maybe you are in my arms, when I hug him or under his fingertips, when he runs them through my hair.

Maybe you are on my lips when I pronounce the sweet, warm words, or his lips, when he's kissing mine.

Maybe you are in each letter that I type, or simply are on my mind....

Maybe you are in my chest, when together with the jelousy you make the breathing hard. Or maybe you are in my breath, which I send out when I realize the jelousy was not justified...

Maybe you are in my stomach, where the butterflies are...

Maybe you are in my thoughts, which are filled with him... or maybe in his thought, where I am sometimes...

Maybe you flow through my veins or play with the sparkles in my eyes...

Maybe you are in that one special sunray, which makes me warm inside...

Maybe you are in the wind, by which you came inside...

Maybe you are on the naked flesh, or in the bedroom sigh...

Or maybe you are in every single tear that I cry...

Maybe you are in my bravest dreams...

Hey, love – wherever you are, just make sure you hang around!

Midnight in Paris

I could not skip Woody Allen's new film and watched it with great pleasure. It seems that Woody has become milder and more romantic with the age. His sarcasm and irony have become smoother and this film was almost poetic, although still Allen-ish.

Here are moments from the film, which seemed striking to me.

The hero is absorbed with extreme admiration for Paris, but unfortunately he shares it with the wrong people. It seems that he is so very out of place and so misunderstood...

As a counter fact his fiancée adores her friends (married couple) almost as much as he adores Paris.

His fiancé, her parents and her friends are so...hmmm how to put it in exact words. Well they are people who prefer Californian wine, as opposed to French wine. It says it all, I guess.

The hero is drunk and alone, walking in Paris empty streets. What can be better? Only a trip to the past J

Shaking hands with Scot Fitzgerald, talking to Hemingway and Picasso, drinking with Dali... amazing how happy everyone ''back there is''. It's all about drink, laugh and music. It is peaceful place with no worries. That just illustrates hero's nostalgic idealization of the past.

Did the scenes from the present get on your nerves too? It seems that Woody managed to show the contrast between guy's feelings in the past and in the present and how unpleasant the present is to him. Guy's fiancée and others are distracting and annoying the viewer. We want to just get rid of them.

The scene when they go from the past to the past. I guess it shows that when real feelings, such as love, excitement, pleasure, passion, anticipation and others are there the time does not matter.

The sad fact that most of great men would like to go back to the past because they think that in the past people were better... Does it mean that regression, degradation and devaluation are permanent processes?

And the last question, which was turning in my head, was why? Why didn't he stay in the past, where he fitted better? There was nothing in the present which could possibly keep him – nothing worth coming back to. Don't tell me he was serious when he was telling about the antibiotics, which did not exist in the past J