Two Stories, One Illustration ~ Part Two ~With Kiluminvti & A.J.Tawil

See gossamerlens.com to stay up-to-date with the current blog.
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    If you haven't already read Part One (click here to read) you might ask, "What does this title mean?"  Well let me explain, this post is apart of a collaboration with the artist Kiluminvti, and writer A.J.Tawil.  In this two part series two stories are told.  The first is featured in a previous post and is written by A.J.Tawil. The second story is shared below and told by myself.  Each story is unique and separate from the other, only linked by the fact that they are both inspired by what our imaginations saw when we viewed the following illustration done by Kiluminvti. 

     Without further ado, I present my story: 

     Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon.  

     Her head caught in a cloud of ribbon, her shoulders brushed with it.  Her hands couldn't help but let it wind through them.  When had it appeared?  Who knew. Some said it had always been with her.  Some whispered that it had appeared out of the blue.  But no matter how people imagined it came into being... the fact was that it was.  Had she ever tried to rid herself of it? No! For she clung to it, as it was her uniqueness. None could claim, nor even remember, someone who had such a beautiful highlight of color.  Especially one that floated around, and about, and with them at all times. 

     Often people traveled to see this lady with the flowing ribbon.  It fascinated them.  The young men spoke of how it highlighted her graceful shape.  The mothers clucked and worried about their own daughters who were "not so naturally gifted." This lady never thought to tell of how sometimes it got in the way.  Of how she might be trying to help with chores, and instead she would catch in the ribbon.  As time went on, she didn't even think much of how it tore her away from work.  What was work anyway, when she had something that drew people towards her?  

     Now though, she sat.  Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon.  In days past she had often thought outside of the ribbon.  Outside of letting it fascinate her.  But now, it no longer just drew her away from work.  It drew her away from reading.  Sometimes away from friends.  Once she had cared, now she let herself get caught in looking at the shimmering red of it, whenever she wanted.  Lately, as long as she wanted.  

     In fact, she couldn't stop looking.  Because really, wasn't all that she was?  It was beauty, it was special, people found her to see it.  So wasn't that what she should focus on?  Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon.  Not knowing her own thoughts and the questions brewing.  Her fingers curled around the ribbon.  She just knew it felt like everything.  Her fingers curled around the ribbon. 

     Slowly. Curled. Around. Like the drowning of a mind. 

     Loosing herself in what everyone else could see. 

     Forgetting to be

~~~

   Thank you for reading! 

If you would like to see more of Kiluminvti's art some of A.J. Tawil's writing simply click on the name of either artist (anywhere in this post) and it will take you to more of their work. 

Want to read Part One of this collaboration? Click here

A Case for a Pseudonym

See gossamerlens.com to stay up-to-date with the current blog.

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     Lately I have been getting some feedback/questions about my use of a pseudonym.  Some think that it is silly of me to hide my personal identity, and physical features and assure me that, "one of these days you will grow comfortable with yourself."  Others simply want to see what I look like, and think it would be more personal to know my name, and to have my age posted somewhere.  Some people have accepted this and others are a little bit more desirous for me to change my view on this.

     I would like to first attest to the realness of my blog.  Everything I post is truly my thoughts.  I am very comfortable with my self. I share my opinions, emotions, views, and (dare I say it) bits of my soul with you.  I am perfectly honest. Nothing I post is "fake" or said to conjure up more views.  Just because I go by "The Damsel" and I choose not to show my face, that doesn't mean I am hiding my mind or heart.

     The main reason I chose to adopt a pseudonym and not present pictures of myself on my blog, or any other linked profiles, is because I wished to keep away distraction.  There are two sides to this.

     The first being, that I don't want myself to leave off on writing. I don't want to slide into doing a "selfie blog" or something similar.  Compliments are very appealing to me.  I love to be called beautiful, or thought attractive.  Sometimes (on personal social media accounts) I find myself caught up in how many "likes" a picture will gain.  I occasionally catch myself thinking of how I could have received more "likes" if I had done something different with my hair, or the lighting.  I think this is something others can maybe relate to as well.  However, despite the naturalness of such feelings, I don't want to get caught in that kind of thinking.  Not here, where my goal is to try and share my thoughts and ideas in a well spoken manner.

     This leads to the other side of distraction.  I don't want my physical self to distract readers from the content I provide. When you come to read I want you to read my words and not to get caught up in physicality's.  Gender is pronounced by my pen name.  But I leave my race, exact age, hair color, height, and anything else physical up in the air.  From my writing you may be able to gain a general sense of who is behind the words.  However an exact portrait of myself, and my physical attributes are not presented.  I want you, as my reader, to follow me because you thought I portrayed, or said something well. Not because I have a decently nice body; or because it is correct for those in my culture to think a certain way.

     In essence, I chose pseudonymity because I don't want to feel the distraction of pride.  I choose a pseudonym because I want you, the reader, to take in the words, thoughts, and ideas portrayed.