What’s better way to describe UK than forming words using its language? Readers, today, this blog posted from the heart of UK … London.
I turn my gaze outside, staring through the glass wall of a coffeeshop, in the middle of typing a new entry for my blog. With a mug of a warm coffee next to my laptop, lots of thought came like a rain of bullets. Likewise, it’s rain outside, here in London. Thousand miles away from my homeland in Indonesia, yet I encounter the same weather problem. I didn’t have my umbrella with me, and making myself wet wasn’t an option since I had my laptop with me.
So, I guess I have to stay here for a bit longer.
I sighed. Eyes still staring, minds flight across the city.
London is indeed, magnificent, even when its road covered on a thin layer of water like now.
I remember saw Thames, the very morning I landed. I saw the lazy flow of blue water reflecting the rare sunny day. I just stood, there at the nearest side of the great river, stared across the famous London Eye. It stands tall and proud watching the town, greeting the tourist with its wink of the sparkly lamp every night, spinning slow every noon like never understand that every beginning has an ending. That very first time, I allowed myself getting the boat floated on the longest river in London.
It was priceless. Like, sightseeing London riversight-style, the cooler way.
People said you’re not visiting London if you didn’t see certain tourism objects, like Big Ben, The London Eye, The Tower of London, Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, et cetera, well, I made it in a flawless one way journey. All you need to do is just hop on to the boat and go cruising. Once, I also hopped off at Westminster Pier and took a short walk to Soho.
If London is a witch, I might’ve spelled.
Because the cooler way wasn’t enough, I found myself inside The Tower of London the next day. Let’s call this journey the hotter way, through the road. That day, even I had a hot Beefeaters, as my tour guide. He served the purpose of this journey just right. The Beefeaters told a story of this place’s historical service as a prison and zoo in late days and The White Tower that was referred to by Shakespeare in many of his plays.
I’ve been here for couple days, first timer alone, vacationing abroad. Back then, my friend had told me to get The London Pass card to visit over 50 tourism objects in town. I’m very thankful that I followed her suggestion, because it made my short vacation way cheaper since I went with a tight budget. About the places I mentioned earlier? I can’t go that far without the magic of The London Pass card on hands.
I think the hotter journey should be postponed, else it will be a wet journey.
I sighed again and spin my attention to my opened laptop. I made a few clicks and opening the window that shows my blog. I start typing.
I always thought.
Reading the end part of a good book would never been easy. You grow with the story.
Sometimes, it ended badly. Few times it ended great.
So damn great, that you’ll think: I would never find another book like this anymore.
And you know that might be wrong, but sadly it came out right.
Once, I read this book, just another fantasy book I bought randomly on store out of boredom. The story flows flawlessly. Turns out that it’s the first book of a saga consist of six books, which four of them already sold on store, two still on the writing process.
The next day after I read the book, I pictured myself once again in the bookstore, trying to find all books. I read all the series once in one week of a holiday, I barely sleeping.
Now at the last page of the final book, this thought occurs to me. These books affect me. A lot.
How come a book, one good story affect someone like that? The ability to go under something as sacred as people’s mind and twisting their point of view out of everything the way the writer wants. How could that even possible?
I found the answer in a simple explanation. The way it being delivered is the key.
Afterwards, the only thing I thought is to produce my own story. I love the thought of sharing my thoughts, my point of view about the world, in a very casual, yet undetectable ways.
Through a story.
Through the art of creativity. With papers as its canvases and words as its paints.
I learnt that it hadn’t been easy. But again, which act of greatness is?
Not only once, or twice did I fail to deliver my purpose. I crushed the paper under my fists, broke my pencil into two, deleted my work files, and thought that I had enough. But I didn’t stop.Am not. Not until I finally finish my own story of 386 pages fantasy novel. The very first novel I wrote my whole life. The very first fantasy story I ever write.
The very first novel I ever finished.
That is what I called creativity. That what greatness is.
Simply to accomplish something that you longed to do with every single thing you have.
Too much for a dream? No. At the end of the day, when everything’s counted, you’ll realize it’s worth the pain,the struggle, and the praise.
You made yourself deserve all.
You know what, rain’s over and my journey will wait. I need to finish my latest project, the sequel of my very first fantasy novel. Yes, on vacation.
Why? Because GREATivity.
Creativity is GREAT. And greatness won’t wait for anyone.
I’ve got to catch up. I’ll update soon.
My favourite character from the story is Daenerys Targaryen, she is the ‘typical woman’, the Kartini version of GoT. The woman who both hands was bound tight to the choice of family yet choose to believe she can do anything to have her own happiness. She made a hard choice, made mistake, and taking responsibility of it, that’s what makes her.