This wise little yellow thing

koneko1

koneko2

I’m not a wise woman at all. Years in school and university have given me intellectual knowledge. I can speak three languages, I’ve read tons of books and I’ve travelled a bit having some interesting experiences. But again, I’m not wise. I haven’t developed that true intelligence about life, the ability of looking at thins from a higher point. I’m usually overhelmed by my own emotions. Nevertheless, I do have a friend who help me in such occasions. Someone I can rely on, someone whose words are like tiny spots of light when I’m lost in the gloomiest night. And now I’d like to introduce this fine creature to you, my dearest friends… but before, Do you have any mentor? Any special friend who always offers you valuable advice? Maybe you rely on your relatives? What is true wisdom for you?

It’s name is Koneko and as portrayed above in my own drawings it’s a yellow cat with orange strikes. Its the cutest thing in the world but this is not its most valuable virtue. It’s my mentor a guide, I shall confess. (And by the way, just in case you’re asking yourselves it’s not a crazy second personality of me or similar, it actually exists… so Koneko, if you’re reading this, manifest yourself!).

For example, I’m a writer but still I’m undergoing what some would call “writer’s block”. I tried to tell myself I couldn’t actually write because I was finishing the last year of my degree while working so I actually didn’t have much time to do it. But now there have been three weeks since I passed all my exams and I became offically a graduate. And would you like to know how many words I wrote since then?

(Yeah, zero is a beautiful number. Did you know Arabians invented it…?)

Nevertheless, whenever I can find Koneko (which is not always that easy, it’s a elusive creature) it gives me unvaluable advice, as it follows,

Me: (Crying loudly). Oh, I’m desesperated. Days keep going and I’m not able of doing anything useful with my insignificant existance…

Koneko: …hey…

Me: (Overhelmed by its extraordinary cuteness) …ko…snif…ne…snif…ko…

Koneko: (Two steps backwards). Hey, hey, control yourself, don’t squeeze me like last time… I’ve come here to tell you something important…

Me: (Doing a very great effort to contain emotions) O-okay…

Koneko: How is that you’re not writing? I read your last novel (which you wrote last year by the way…) I told you it was quite good, I even sent you all those editorials I thought it could be fit in by mail… And you’re still complaining ungrateful bitch?

Me: (Blushing) Koneko…! Watch your language, for God’s sake…

Koneko: Don’t go off topic… We’re talking about your own words here. I want yo working on your career as a writer and I want this to happen now.

Me: Yeah, I’m thrilled by your… huge confidence about my talent but you see, the problem is…

Koneko: The problem is you want to be so good that you don’t want even to try. In that way you can always say in your deathbed: “Yes, I was going to be the next Cicero (female version) but you stupids mortals were just too unwortht of my words I dediced to keep them to the only creature in this vast world who had the power of understanding them properly… myself”. Hahahahahaha (evil laugh).

Me:

Koneko: See?  But I’m sorry, babe, you’re not the next Cicero, you’re not George R. R, Martin, you’re not the next J.K. Rolwing and what’s more you’ll never be! You’re just a egocentric, imperfect writer. But still your words can be enjoyed by some people. You’re a writer, you’ve this gift (somethimes when I’m with you I think it’s the only one you’ve… pheww…). Things were meant to be this way.

Me: But… I know you’re right, but it’s not that easy. Do you think if it was that easy I won’t be publishing books as crazy now? Writing a book is so difficult, it’s not just the idea but the power to sit everyday in front of a blank page, the strenght you need to nake your own soul, to offer a bit of it to feed mankind…

Koneko: Yeah, yeah… whatever… Do you even believe your own words? You’re not Jesus Christ, c’mon! You’re not told to save the world (you cannot even defeat a moth!!) you are just supposed to do something you actually enjoy… Or you’d be enjoy if you were not such a insufferable masochist…

Me: Okay, got it, I’ll write… I’ll send the novel to the editorials even if I know they won’t probably even reply my letters…

Koneko: Yes, anyway if you never send those letters they’re not going to answer for sure… And what if you’ve to try for five, ten, or twenty years before you’re published again? Have you already found another way to be useful to humanity? Because dreaming or complaining are not actually…

Me: Yeah, yeah, got it, your cruel monster. I’ll write until my fingers bleeld and my eyes turn blind… Satisfied?

Koneko: I’ll come around next week to see if your enormous (ironic) efforts have produced some piece of writing…

And after Koneko pulled out its new karaoke and sang to me Dreamer. And I was made dance and sing the chorus…

 

 

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