Fabula.

I'm writing again. Not blog-writing, not email-writing, not essay-writing. Valerie-writing. I'd forgotten how important it is to me to just be able to sit down and write for no one. And not necessarily write about my own life. It's not like diary-writing. It's writing for the sake of writing, writing because the world is intricate, writing because my fingers on the keyboard or my pen on the paper sound nice, writing because I can.

I'm not sure what I'll do with all of my written things. Stories are almost more important than diary entries. Stories tell a lot more about me and about my life than records of what I'm doing or thinking, because stories are uncontrollable. You set out to write complete fiction and only halfway through do you realize that you're not sure anymore whether the story is more fiction than reality or more reality than fiction. But at that point, it's too late and you have to finish the story, no matter how uncomfortable or personal it becomes.

Writing, in some way, also reaffirms my existence. Writing is the manifestation of my thoughts, my passions. Being able to write means that I have something to say, and having something to say is important in the general scheme of things.

Quote of the day, taken randomly from the wall next to my pillow:
"We do not have ideologies, we do not have theologies. We dance."-Libertad El Derecho A Atreverse