From my yellow notebook  10

I have a “traveling bubble” to create.

I deserve something good happens in my life.

When I let fear going up, without resisting, tension in me fall down.

Knowing. Being able. Wanting.

While I know that some activities I do are futile and useless, I love doing them and they make me feel very, very good!

The successes of others can be very rewarding for me.

In most projects / activities / work I do as soon as I start thinking about result I paralyzes.

I am a connoisseur in "Doing everything ... except what I have to do! »

Faith and Abandonment vs Reason and Destiny.

I often have the feeling that my brain is built as if there were, superimposed, a multitude of disturbing thoughts that I have to tear away one after the other, year after year, to be better and better.

This n’ that  8

Young, I dreamed of being a professor, archaeologist, sociologist or psychologist. And someone important.

Probably my creativity is the source of my soul.

Refusals are never final and these requests denied, could lead me to other people who are as important and influential.

In acting, I take control of my life. I become anxious when I don’t act because I lose control of my dreams.

My priorities:
1) Creativity 2) Freedom 3) Success 4) Security 5) Comfort 6) Exploration
7) Adventure 8) Power 9) Passion 10) Health

I am freely obliged to die.


I feel the need to constantly "untie" me from others.

I have periods of single nodes and I have periods of complex nodes.


Why am I so different?

I learn to write, to put it in a constructive, scalable way on people and my surroundings

Take time to spoil me, feed me.


Levels of death through the ages :
1) A very long time ago, we wondered if the body was dead;
2) Later, we wondered if the brain was dead;
3) Today, one wonders if the person is still experiencing emotions.

I continually need to prove myself that I have the right to speak, to think, to write.

When I deny and denigrate all and everything, it’s because I became a loser.

Because he’s unknown, in an unknown environment, with unknowns, he knows he’ll be all right.

Very intimate diaries 2

I am looking for my inner dynamo.

(...)

I'm glad I managed, gradually, in "downloading" of things.

(...)

 

And if I could express my anger and pain by drawing?

(...)

(Another Day) 

I think the Morning Pages make me feel good inside. I seem to crush, to eliminate fears and everything else. As if that was cleaning in full every time.

(...)

The important thing is to keep writing (regardless of frequency). I know at some point I'll end up getting a more regular and a more frequent pace.

(...)

I'm scared I'm so scared. As if I could ... As if all good that can happen to me masks a great misfortune. As if I should not move, speak, or do anything, or something will explode. Otherwise, misfortune appears. I mustn’t tell him (the misfortune) that I found positive and happiness. As if a murder is committed, otherwise. And it's loud it's so strong it's unbelievable. Once again, it's really crippling.

(...)

What do I do with this little “creative genius” that I have in me? He won’t die that’s for sure! I wonder why he's so strong ... (...) It's so strange ... Looks like it's there to allow me to get the steam out.

(...)

I don’t create because I’m in a crisis, and I’m in a crisis because I don’t create...

From my yellow notebook 2

Every step is not a stop, it’s a step.

To lower my strain, focus on my body, my breath, when I act.

How can I create using my anger as strength of progress?

I scream my creativity; I scream my freedom.

I am a Renaissance man.

The law of antidotes: for a negative emotion, arouse its positive opposite inside.

Active Life = Creative Life.

Before concrete acts, there’re concrete thoughts.

I like the word "concrete."

This n' that

What's the strangest about this "re-conquest," it's that I change while being the same.

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At first, the person whom I made responsible for my blocking was my father. 

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Younger, I dreamed to be a professor or an archaeologist, and somebody important.

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I think that my creativity is the source of my soul.

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When I was a child, my father thought that my art, my creativity were useless. It triggered in me a feeling of anger. 

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I remember when he said to me, towards the end of my adolescence, that I would never be able to make a living as a artist. I felt very sad and angry. I have never forgotten this moment. (Ironically, this recollection is more and more vague today...)

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When I was a child, my mother taught me that dreams were impracticable. I remember that she always told me to snap out of it for my own good.