[Vetiveria's Scrapbook] A Wild Flower's Will To Stay Alive

[Vetiveria]

> I’m so wildly unprolific, the poems I have not written would reach from here to the California coast if you laid them end to end. And if you stacked them up, the poems I have not written would sway like a silent Tower of Babel, saying nothing and everything in a thousand different tongues. So moving, so filled with and emptied of suffering, so steeped in the music of a voice > > The scrapbook title is taken from "Legend Land" by Leaves' Eyes. The words really struck me the first time I heard them because it was so unexpected and yet true. Wildflowers aren't raised or nutured; they're independent because they must be, and that fascinates me. It reflects what I had in mind when I created Vetiveria; there is very little flower essence in my own presence. The Northern Lights photo at the top of this post is by Moyan Brenn on Flickr. I am a lifelong admirer of them, but I am yet to see them in person. It is a lifetime wish of mine, and it will require travel. I am currently saving up to visit Norway, and I hope to be lucky whilst I am there. Here is another favorite photo, and here is a photo of an amazingly persistent sunset over Bergen. The quote is an excerpt from The Poems I Have Not Written by John Brehm. I relate to this poem because I feel like no matter how I try, my writing falls short of what it could be. Maybe that's the whole point: the constant struggle to widen horizons, to find the words for that breathtaking sunrise, to sprout a pair of wings and fly to a world of your own. But I'm okay with that. The moment I stop searching for the words I've never said is the moment I cease to grow. I'm absolute rubbish at keeping any sort of personal blog, but I am greatly looking forward to writing about my thought processes for various elements of my Mizahar experience.

[Thalia]

Thank you so much for posting that poem fragment. I completely relate to what you're saying about your writing falling short of your expectations or potential. I struggle with this every day. But the feeling you get when you go back and reread your past writing and (hopefully) realize how much you've grown? That's a special feeling. By the way, I'm stealing this phrase from you: "The moment I stop searching for the words I've never said is the moment I cease to grow." Beautiful. Welcome to scrapbooking! I can't wait to read more.

[Vetiveria]

Thank you so much, Thalia! That is exactly what I was thinking of when I typed it. I've always had a vivid imagination, but I didn't begin trying to write until I was fourteen. Those first couple of years I wondered why I even tried; I just couldn't come up with anything that would catch the interest of others. Then I started writing more and more for me; that is where I can see the beginnings of improvement when I look at past work. I'm a little embarrassed just to read some of that work, but I also think it's amazing that once it was my best. Writing has turned into a personal journey for me, and I love it. Steal away! I'm honored that you think it worthy of stealing.

[Vetiveria]

You are not wrong who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. - A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allen Poe (excerpt) For my first proper entry, I'd like to talk about what roleplay and writing in general have come to mean to me. I was diagnosed with Asperger's, which is on the autistic spectrum, in 2006. At the time, I was seeing a psychologist at my father's orders to help me cope with a death in the family. I spent most of my time during appointments talking about school because the psychologist was the only person that would listen to me; I didn't have a single friend in high school, and my father told me to suck it up because he made it through high school with no friends and so I could too, which was not helpful at all. I took the diagnosis terribly, moreso after an antidepressant I was prescribed actually made me suicidal instead of keeping me from becoming suicidal. It took a little over a year before I began to realize something. I was still different, but now I knew why. I came to understand that I wasn't the only person that parties sent into a sobbing meltdown. I wasn't the only person who felt physically threatened when someone was less than an arm's length from me. And so on and so forth. If anyone happens to have questions about Asperger's, feel free; I'm very comfortable talking about it now and always do my best to answer questions. An online support group for people (and their loved ones) all over the spectrum helped me so much. I received feedback on what stims (a personal coping method for when I am in an overwhelming situation) were easy to get away in public, which helped me become a bit less of a hermit. I even started to make friends! Fast forward to present day. I live with a wonderful friend, who is very understanding of the fact that I spend 90% of my time in our apartment in my bedroom, and our cats. I can hold down a part-time job (although I am currently seeking employment due to a job transfer falling through when I moved a few months ago). I've been in three decent relationships, which have ranged from two years to five months. I can travel, which seems to be rare for those on the spectrum; a few others in my support group have suggested I cope with change more easily because my father's government job resulted in a move nearly every year of my childhood. The idea amuses me, as I dealt with every one of those moves terribly, but it does make sense. I am a person who has a disability; I am not a disabled person. It took me a long time to learn that I matter enough to come first. That said, there are many things it is foolish for me to try to do: partying, holiday gatherings, hanging out with friends in crowded places, going out every day in a row, etc. Even the multi-tasking of video games is a bit much to me if I'm worn down and need to recharge. So what do I do to bring myself to life? I let my imagination run free. It has always been vivid, and I can be anything I want to be there. Most of the time, I'm actually not there. Rather than imagining that I'm somewhere else or that I'm magically able to do what I cannot, I love to take characters - some of my own creation, some favorites from the works of others, some hybrids that do not entirely belong to anyone - and live vicariously through their experiences. My therapist recommended jotting down my daydreams when I mentioned using them to try and deal with how I was treated in high school; the more I actually did that, the more it helped. This roleplay is my first shot at being public with my writing and beginning to conquer my fear of sharing my writing. So far, I am loving it; there are so many amazing threads to read, and I have so many ideas of my own. Outside of the creative writing realm, I also have multiple penpals; my letters to them turn into either a work of nonfiction or a commentary on a shared interest. Reading has never had quite the same empowering effect on me. I love to read, but I remain an outsider looking in when I read. When I write, I am at the heart of everything: I belong.