Yesterday I talked about how writers sometimes do their work while not actually writing.
The thing is we think about stuff when we're not at the keyboard or with pen and paper in our hand. We compose in our head and later write it down.
At some point, last night, I started composing a blog entry in my head. Maybe when I was in the shower? Yeah. Probably.
I thought of writing and posting what was inside my head, but decided against it. I had already written two posts for the day, and I still had other stuff I wanted to do—like watch True Blood.
Then today I thought of writing it but wasn't really in the mood. I didn't feel what I had felt yesterday. Writing it would feel forced. But then as I thought of it more, I got myself back in the mood. Maybe too much in the mood. I started thinking of all these things I wanted to say.
So now I'm going to start writing this post which might be crap and it might be too long, because I have so much swimming inside my head. Shit. Look how long it took to just write an introduction. And did I even need this introduction?
Probably not.
But I'm keeping it here.
So...for some reason I thought of seeing Heath Ledger at the wax museum, and I remembered that we have a picture of me with him. Well, I probably thought of Heath Ledger because I so recently read the book about him. I'm not sure why I thought of him and me at the wax museum.
Wow. I was just looking for the picture on Flickr so I could post it here, and I saw that one of my Aussie related photos was favorited by someone. I went to their Flickr (because I'm always curious about who looks at my stuff), and they have some very wild pictures. I'm going to have to check back later and take a closer look.
For now, I'll just say the pictures are cool but do have the potential to give me nightmares. Or at least keep me up at night.
Okay. I found the photo of me with Heath Ledger.
I had kind of been hoping it was one of the rare photos where I look sort of attractive. But...oh well. Still. I like the photo because it sort of looks like I'm standing near the real Heath Ledger. Like we're at the same party.
I guess that's what's fun about these wax museums. You can stand next to famous people who you'd never stand next to otherwise. Even ones that are no longer alive.
I used the Sydney wax museum in my novel, The Dead Are Online. In my book, the afterlife is accepted as fact and the dead talk to the living as easily as the living talk to the living. Thanks to the Internet.
The wax museum has special times each day where the living can talk to the deceased celebrities. Though it's not like you get to sit there and have a personal chat. There's a huge crowd competing for the celebrities' attention, and the celebrity usually just recites a prepared speech and then answers a few audience questions.
So...last night (and it WAS in the shower. I remember it definitely now). I thought about how I was somewhat depressed after writing my book. I think while writing the book, there was a small part of me that forgot it was fiction. I created this world where people no longer had to worry about death, and there didn't have to be that horrible sorrow that comes with death.
A few days ago, I was reading some of my old LiveJournal entries, which I do on most days. My reading for that day happened to be about belief in the afterlife. Apparently in June 2007, my faith in life after death was at 99.9%. I talk about how when my faith was weaker, I couldn't understand why so-called believers would cry about death. Why cry if your faith is so strong and you know you can see your loved one again? What's the big deal about death if you know it's not the end?
Then I became a strong believer myself and imagined I understood. Even if death isn't the end, it's still a huge good-bye.
I still have a belief in the afterlife, but not as strong as 2007-Dina. Now my belief is probably at around 75%.
And I'm kind of disagreeing with my old self. I think she's wrong. Maybe. I think people cry over death not because there will be a long separation, but because no matter what they claim, their faith really isn't 100% Or 99.9%.
I just have a hard time imagining anyone is truly that secure in a belief in life after death. I mean maybe there are exceptions...like if you personally see dead people. But wouldn't even these people have at least a tiny bit of doubt? Couldn't they imagine their visions of the dead might be hallucinations? If we say, but the dead told them things they wouldn't have known otherwise. Well, couldn't it be that they're psychic? It could be that psychic powers are a true thing, but life after death is not.
Now, as I said above, in my novel, not only is there life after death, but there's easy and open communication between the living and dead. If there was definite proof and acceptance of life after death but no communication; would it still be horribly sad?
Well, I'd say the sadness level would lie somewhere between the situation in my novel and the one we have in our real world. It would be sad, because you know you might not see the person for a long time but not too sad because you know they're still out there somewhere.
Sometimes the characters in my novel worry about death; then they suddenly remember that they don't need to worry about it. This was really a matter of me forgetting the whole premise of my novel. I'd have the characters worry and then I'd remember that they didn't need to. So instead of editing out scenes caused my forgetfulness, I worked it into the story.
It's hard to fathom a world in which life after death is fact rather than belief. But once I was there, it was kind of hard to let go.
I miss my fictional world sometimes.
I'm not a big fan of the whole death thing.
P.S-Later I might write a post about the weird Flickr account.
The thing is we think about stuff when we're not at the keyboard or with pen and paper in our hand. We compose in our head and later write it down.
At some point, last night, I started composing a blog entry in my head. Maybe when I was in the shower? Yeah. Probably.
I thought of writing and posting what was inside my head, but decided against it. I had already written two posts for the day, and I still had other stuff I wanted to do—like watch True Blood.
Then today I thought of writing it but wasn't really in the mood. I didn't feel what I had felt yesterday. Writing it would feel forced. But then as I thought of it more, I got myself back in the mood. Maybe too much in the mood. I started thinking of all these things I wanted to say.
So now I'm going to start writing this post which might be crap and it might be too long, because I have so much swimming inside my head. Shit. Look how long it took to just write an introduction. And did I even need this introduction?
Probably not.
But I'm keeping it here.
So...for some reason I thought of seeing Heath Ledger at the wax museum, and I remembered that we have a picture of me with him. Well, I probably thought of Heath Ledger because I so recently read the book about him. I'm not sure why I thought of him and me at the wax museum.
Wow. I was just looking for the picture on Flickr so I could post it here, and I saw that one of my Aussie related photos was favorited by someone. I went to their Flickr (because I'm always curious about who looks at my stuff), and they have some very wild pictures. I'm going to have to check back later and take a closer look.
For now, I'll just say the pictures are cool but do have the potential to give me nightmares. Or at least keep me up at night.
Okay. I found the photo of me with Heath Ledger.
I had kind of been hoping it was one of the rare photos where I look sort of attractive. But...oh well. Still. I like the photo because it sort of looks like I'm standing near the real Heath Ledger. Like we're at the same party.
I guess that's what's fun about these wax museums. You can stand next to famous people who you'd never stand next to otherwise. Even ones that are no longer alive.
I used the Sydney wax museum in my novel, The Dead Are Online. In my book, the afterlife is accepted as fact and the dead talk to the living as easily as the living talk to the living. Thanks to the Internet.
The wax museum has special times each day where the living can talk to the deceased celebrities. Though it's not like you get to sit there and have a personal chat. There's a huge crowd competing for the celebrities' attention, and the celebrity usually just recites a prepared speech and then answers a few audience questions.
So...last night (and it WAS in the shower. I remember it definitely now). I thought about how I was somewhat depressed after writing my book. I think while writing the book, there was a small part of me that forgot it was fiction. I created this world where people no longer had to worry about death, and there didn't have to be that horrible sorrow that comes with death.
A few days ago, I was reading some of my old LiveJournal entries, which I do on most days. My reading for that day happened to be about belief in the afterlife. Apparently in June 2007, my faith in life after death was at 99.9%. I talk about how when my faith was weaker, I couldn't understand why so-called believers would cry about death. Why cry if your faith is so strong and you know you can see your loved one again? What's the big deal about death if you know it's not the end?
Then I became a strong believer myself and imagined I understood. Even if death isn't the end, it's still a huge good-bye.
I still have a belief in the afterlife, but not as strong as 2007-Dina. Now my belief is probably at around 75%.
And I'm kind of disagreeing with my old self. I think she's wrong. Maybe. I think people cry over death not because there will be a long separation, but because no matter what they claim, their faith really isn't 100% Or 99.9%.
I just have a hard time imagining anyone is truly that secure in a belief in life after death. I mean maybe there are exceptions...like if you personally see dead people. But wouldn't even these people have at least a tiny bit of doubt? Couldn't they imagine their visions of the dead might be hallucinations? If we say, but the dead told them things they wouldn't have known otherwise. Well, couldn't it be that they're psychic? It could be that psychic powers are a true thing, but life after death is not.
Now, as I said above, in my novel, not only is there life after death, but there's easy and open communication between the living and dead. If there was definite proof and acceptance of life after death but no communication; would it still be horribly sad?
Well, I'd say the sadness level would lie somewhere between the situation in my novel and the one we have in our real world. It would be sad, because you know you might not see the person for a long time but not too sad because you know they're still out there somewhere.
Sometimes the characters in my novel worry about death; then they suddenly remember that they don't need to worry about it. This was really a matter of me forgetting the whole premise of my novel. I'd have the characters worry and then I'd remember that they didn't need to. So instead of editing out scenes caused my forgetfulness, I worked it into the story.
It's hard to fathom a world in which life after death is fact rather than belief. But once I was there, it was kind of hard to let go.
I miss my fictional world sometimes.
I'm not a big fan of the whole death thing.
P.S-Later I might write a post about the weird Flickr account.
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