Ana Todor Blog Journey

What does one year mean? One year means you can share a pillow but not your feelings. It means more make-up and higher heels. Numbness. That formal feeling Emily Dickinson describes:

Present

After great pain a formal feeling comes–
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions–was it He that bore?
And yesterday–or centuries before?

The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.

This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow–
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.

One year more seems to be one year less. One year, and you’re lost in your reflection, tapping your delicate reality to make sure it’s real.

Marks in the sand of Costinesti, Romania

I was told that in order to truly live your life, you have to do something you fear each day. Blogging is, for most, not really a big deal. But I fear it. I could find you entitled to mock me in the face. But then I’d be certain that you cannot understand the joy and pain that writing brings. Frankly, I fear technology as it steals us away from real life and makes us forget our real values; we dig ourselves deeper in this binary hole.. soon privacy settings start to enrage us and make us forget the real people tipping their toes in nearby rooms in wait for us to return to life.
Ironically, as in every initiation rite, while stealing some of my real life sanity.. this blog also enables me to see more details in life..just thinking about the possibilities of what i can write here makes me want to discover (or build up?) more sense into life.. more feeling.. more thoughts..
Nevertheless I shall not stop writing too soon. But i shall be aware of the manner in which it shall be done. I will try to morph my reality into this toy like world.. while remaining outside the thrilling shell of feelings.. This is not yet over..