Looking over some of my past blogs, I realized that I don’t actually write anymore. Which is fine with me, I love just telling my stories through pictures. And I don’t take pictures, just so I can post them for other people to see. I take pictures because it is one of the things, that I just really love and enjoy doing. Even if all they do is sit in my iPhoto. I could never be bored of it.
For the second installment of our Adventure Group’s book club we are reading Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood. So far I’m pretty indifferent to it and I started reading today and am a third of the way through. I thought at first because it was written from a male perspective. Then I thought about my favorite books like the Great Gatsby and Catcher in the Rye, haha even Harry Potter! So that wasn’t it. Maybe its just like the first twenty minutes of a movie where you are indifferent until it picks up and things start to happen. So we’ll see. I’m looking forward to the discussion on Thursday, with hopefully a larger group this time! There is a paragraph though that closes the first chapter that I really liked. The man is talking about a woman he knew when he was younger….
Once, long ago, when I was still young, when the memories were far more vivid than they are now, I often tried to write about Naoko. But I was never able to produce a line. I knew that if that first line would come, the rest would pour itself onto the page, but I could never make it happen. Everything was too sharp and clear, so that I could never tell where to start – the way a map that shows too much can sometimes be useless. Now, though, I realize that all I can place in the imperfect vessel of writing are imperfect memories and imperfect thoughts. The more the memories of Naoko inside me fade, the more deeply I am able to understand her. I know, too, why she asked me not to forget her. Naoko herself knew, of course. She knew that my memories of her would fade. Which is precisely why she begged me never to forget her, to remember that she had existed.
As much as I love writing, I always feel this way. That I can never really get the right words that I want to explain someone or something. Like it only makes sense to me and to try to put it down into words…is never right. It’s imperfect! But hopefully this will encourage me to write more. Just to start the first line so the rest will come on it’s on.
So I guess for what it is worth, I will be happy I read this book for that paragraph! I’ll be interested to see how the rest of it goes.