Rainy day.

Today was a rainy day. The last days, in fact. But today was quite special, because I took a walk by the neighborhood. Just after the rain was over.
It was a gentle rain. Calmed and quiet. And, even though it lasted for a while, I had nothing to do; so I could have it for all the day long. Once it stopped, there it was. That magical world that only appears after the rain.
So I took a walk by the street, to the supermarket and the way back, and I felt the cold wind on my skin. I could hear that noise that the shoes make against the pavement, the

one that you can only hear after the rain. The world was gray and the people were silent. Oh holy silence. I love the peace that brings the rain. It just priceless.
I returned home, after the walk, with a smile on my face.
I love the rainy days.

See you later,
Jhonny.

The perks of being hackneyed.

I don’t know why being original is so hard, sometimes.

There are some days when I’m so sick of being a wallflower that I think << Isn’t the people tired of the same thing, over and over again? >>

For example: if you wanna talk about a book nobody knows, to bring something different to this world, you’re as insivible as Charlie. No wait, even he had some Friends. But if you take the most hackneyed book of the season, then you’ll have all the attention.

It’s so frustrating... But I think it’s a test.

The smarter wins.

Goodbye,

Jhonny.

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This post it's a courtesy of Velvet Verbosity's 100 words challenge.

Speak up.

One of my favorite films is "The Help"
I love everything about it. The history, the script, the actors, the direction, the cinematography, the music, the art department... I love the whole movie.
I think that I have seen it like twenty times. But it was just in that 20th time, that I saw the film, that I really understood one of the most powerful lines of script.
There is this scene, when Skeeter is calling her editor and she is starting to explain her why is she willing to write that book. Because there must be always a reason to write a book. You don't put yourself in front of a computer, for months or years, just because the writing bug bit you. But, what is the right reason to put yourself in the job of writing a book? What is the sign that indicates you that you need to write? That you need to tell that story.

Write about what bothers you. Especially if you're the only one bothered by that.

It's so simply.
We -writers- are the voice of the people. Their way to tell the world what's going on. And what greater way to write a story, that putting on the paper what's wrong with your society. What needs to be fixed. The voices that need to be heard.
I think we lost our loyalty to ourselves. We sold our freedom to the fashion. And let our voices fell in the dephts of entertainment. We exchanged our liberty by safety. But we're not saved in a silent world.

We are not saved... that's the point.

We think that just following the system we are going to be inside a dome.  We don't even understand what the system is, where comes from their rules, for what those rules stand for, where they're gonna take us, why we have to follow them; we're just sheeps.
Meeeeh... to everything we're told, instead of asking "why?"
And is not like you're gonna go asking why to every single word you hear, but at least to those things that you don't understand. That you need to understand before to accept... or decline... or protest against. We need to start writing and/or talking about what bothers us. Especially if we're the only ones in our society bothered by that situation. Because in the singularity is where our real voice exist.
It's our duty. It's our right. It's the source of our liberty.

See you later,
Jhonny.

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This post was written because:

  

And I invite you to be a writter bandit yourself.

Facts... we can't fight it.

In my country, the goverment just signed a pact to protect the life and family.

This pact is against the homosexual marriage. This pact says that marriage is an act just between man and woman. So, the gay marriage is a threat to life and family.

I’m a Christian… and I recognize it is, by far, stupid.

You’re not gonna “protect” anything by forbidding gay rights. They’re people, not animals or things. So they have exactly the same rights that other PEOPLE have.

If you think that homosexuals are wrong, go talk to the heterosexuals who made them.

Goodbye,

Jhonny.

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This post it's a courtesy of Velvet Verbosity's 100 words challenge.

Her.

Her name was Ivonne. She was quite normal. Beautiful, in her own skin. But completely invisible.
She made no sound. Her movements were voiceless. But her eyes were awake. Awake with the dance of the light and thoughts.
She had all the time to see everyone. To study everyone. To know everyone. Without a single word.
She was in control of the room. She was the queen of her realm. Everybody owed her a salute; but she was completely invisible. Blessed with the gift of silence and the guard.
She was the most valuable human in the entire room. The others, talked to much, moved to much, tried to much to impress; when she just remained in her seat.
Nobody cared, not even once, to explore her mind. Her crazy and wild thoughts about the world. But she didn't care. She enjoyed every single day of her invisble life. Because when she became a flame, she would never return to that. She would be too bright.
So there she stood. Seated in her chair. Protecting her realm. Being the queen, in her own mind.

See you later,
Jhonny.

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This post was written because:

  

And I invite you to be a writter bandit yourself.

Fool. Absorbed.

What is truer than the chill that runs along the back of a human being hit by the light of the obvious?
How could he not see it? How could he not be smart enough to suspect it? There he was, illuminated by the rays of truth; sudden. What to do now?

See you later,
Jhonny.

Mornings.

In my neighborhood is really hard to get a ride to the city.

Is like a competition. Like a melee fight, to see who enters the car first.

The thing is that the people is so obsessed to get a place inside that nobody actually thinks. Everyone goes to the same door, and forgets the other one. But, as a intelligent being, I retreat from the crowd and enter by the other door.

When we’re seated inside, everyone takes a look to each other. We are the chosen ones. Our hearts burn with victory.

We’re going to the city.

Goodbye,

Jhonny.

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This post it's a courtesy of Velvet Verbosity's 100 words challege.

Can't you see?

This is pretty new on my blog. I've never talked about a song... actually I can't tell if I never mentioned a song, but I'm sure I've never wrote a whole post about a song.
There's always a first time.
I don't have a picture for this post because, when I heard the song, I just could see myself walking through the darkness. Walking to my wonderwall. Walking to that person.

If I was not myself,
and you were someone else...

I immediately saw us. One in front to the other. Waiting for someone to speak.

I'd say so much to you,
and I would tell the truth.

I would, finally, speak. I can see it. I can see it all.
But I can't imagine what would be the answer. What impression would cause.

Cause I can hardly breathe
when your hands let go of me.

It was like hearing to someone describe my life. My relationship with this person. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster. I could feel my eyes filling with this layer of... tears?
Why? Why it has to be so hard? I feel like...

I'm dead in the water
still looking for you.
I'm dead in the water.
Can't you see?

Did I play so well my part? Did I hide to deep my feelings? I don't think so. I feel like I've been kind of honest. I have not said it all, I know. There's still the biggest part of the story buried in the sand, but I just want to know if...

Can't you see?

I'm here. With my soul under the sun. Wishing I wasn't myself, and you could be someone else.

I'm kind of down, but I'm not completely sad. I know what I have to do. I need to talk with this person and clear up all the stuff in my head. I need to hear those words coming out from that pair of lips. It would be one answer from two options available. The one I fear the most... I know it's not gonna kill me. I will move on. I'm sure about it. I know it will hit me like a bullet, but I will survive.
I just need to do it... and pass the page.

P.S.: If you like the lyrics that I shared with you, they're from "Dead in the water - Ellie Goulding".

See you later,
Jhonny.

The source of all the misunderstandings.

My mom and I were walking back home this afternoon. When I walk by myself, I take the right side of the path; because is the one where my home is. But today, when we got off the bus, we began to walk by the left side.
We kept walking by that side for a long time. We were talking and everything; but my obsessive compulsive soul was screaming "GO TO THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE PATH!"
So I told my mom "You know? why don't we cross the street? I like to walk by that side." And my mom opened her eyes as plates and told me "Me too! I'm walking on here because I thought you want it so. Let's cross right now."
We began to laugh about that, because anyone of us wanted to walk by the left side; but we did it because we had the early thought that the other want it that way. Even though we were making fun of it, I couldn't avoid to overthink all the scene.
"It's so weird! Both of us were doing something that we didn't want to do, thinking that we were pleasing the other; when any of us wanted to walk by the left side. Why we -humans- do this?"
Immediately my mom turned her head to me and said "Because we always take everything for granted. We don't know anything, but we always think we have all the answers. The most of the time that we think that something is one way, it tends to be the opposite."