Bintang “The Rock” Lestada

Couch Surfing Writers’ Club : Log 001

For this past two months I’ve been involved in a new activity group. A writing club. We meet once a week to write (of course) in various places, with kinds of methods. Which is the best thing about the club. Each week we take turn to be the host and he/she then decides where and how we write.

My first gig was to closed my eyes, grabbed a dictionary, then randomly picked a random word to completed this sentence, “Life is a box full of …. ” I got the word, weak-eyed. HELL it was hard! Partly because I had a strangest sentence possible. Mostly because I was nervous as a first timer and lost in the thought of being surrounded by much talented experienced writers. But that was the idea. I joined the club to felt uncomfortable and dumb af.

Since I got what I expected that day. I then came for the next weeks, though for then be excused leaving because of, works. I could only say hi, shook hands, sat for a moment, hold a short conversation, then bye. Yet that glimpse of moments kept me coming for more because I got the feeling of I could also give something.

It turns out, these sweet smart edgy writers would have a better drill if there are more people with ways of thinking, personalities, and values. I decided that I want to contribute in their life that way.

I wasn’t proud of my works on the first meet up. So bad that I will only keep that for myself as a benchmark of how far I could develop my writings.

Yesterday, was my (finally) second time to actually do what I supposed to do. I wrote. The host first asked us to make an eye contact with a member came that night. It lasted for a brief while, about one to two minutes. Then we were asked to wrote anything regarding the experience. I was skeptical at first but surprisingly quite content with the result.

Not my best writing ever. Nor the best enough to win the vote for the best of the session. It was just kind of a milestone for me. To finally be able to beat my anxieties to write with these folks. Enough to made me want to share it, here.

I saw a castle. I saw a rock.

I saw a burned bridge for any might crossed and knock

the door out.

I saw depth. I saw dark.

I saw hands reached out looking for a grasp

but no scream. Nothing.

I saw quite. I saw silence.

Screaming so loud that I barely hear nothing.

I saw color. Yellow and blue.

I saw someone who sung lullaby.

So the giant would sleep, inside, the castle

failed to try.

To breaks the rocks.

Hard. Cold. Wall and wall of rocks.

Also, I saw a fireplace.

I thought it was a match.

Burned so mighty it warms the rocks.

Warms the heart of the giant so he could sleep.

I saw tender. A tender, living, breathing, heart.

I saw human.

That was it. Exactly as I wrote it that night. With all of the faults and errors. I love the process more than those words written. I learned much that night. The session gave me a chance to reflect towards other’s eyes and words. It made me quite contemplative afterwards. Then somehow strengthen my will that has been slowly fading away. Thank you.

And for context, here I attach the photo whom I stared into. He is obviously not Dwayne Johnson tho I wrote the word “rock” a lot.

I encourage you to try some new awry things sometime. I tried and it mostly sucks. But I ended up grow, much. Best luck and lots of hug.