#immigrant writer

[linseyswrld]

I guess a better start?

Someone can say that I am bad at the consistency, but my bigger problem is perfectionism. And it is probably in the way that I am looking for a “better time”. This is the problem that I think is not enough talked about. It is hard to start, yes. But I guess it is harder to feel that whatever you say actually makes sense and the state you are in is the right for creating things. I wanted to start this blog all the way back in September of 2024. Funny enough, it was such a shitty timing as how delusional I was about my life.

My original story that I wanted to write about was about werewolves BUT NOT IN THAT CORNY AHH SENSE YOU MIGHT THINK ABOUT NO NO NO!!!!!! There were NO pregnancies and freaky shit OKAY OKAY???

I mean, it is not even the point lol. As an immigrant I thought I found my place: boyfriend, friendgroup. The story was supposed to be mostly about finding the feeling of “home”. As I am living in Calgary, I wanted to write about this town and the nature in more down-to-earth way. Not that I have any problems with booktok – it is an amazing platform for connection and sharing stories. My story was supposed to be more honest and somewhat of a triumph for me finally feeling peace after so many tough years.

And oh boy how wrong I was. I wanted to romanticize my life and I just ended up hurting myself more. This is what happens when you put the responsibility of your happiness on someone else. The worst part is that everyone deep down wants to feel safe. And when your head is filled with negative thoughts, other people become the projection of what you think is protecting you. I wanted to write about my ex-boyfriend as of the main male character and the whole story line was revolving around him and his fiends that were my friends at the time. I was always inspired by people and those people were not the exception. But I guess I was way too trusting, way too loving and, of course, projecting. If I have a strong sense of friendship coming from my home country, Ukraine, it does not mean others have it too.

Well, I decided I will not be sticking to only one story. I will just go crazy. Cuz why not? It is better to lose your mind in art then in people.

I will do my best to post more frequently, as I want this place to be my own little creative freedom where I can be free and go to whenever I need some sort of shelter. I will make the blog pretty at some point lol. See ya around!

[theoffingmag]

Your mark at customs has always been your face.

“This is random,” an officer said. He ushered you to a line of ALIENS who looked like they could be related to you. Another officer in a matching black windbreaker asked what was in your hand-carry.

“Nothing,” you said. You’ve learned that nothing you say is correct, and your face simply cues them to unzip your bag, rifle through your underwear, pull out bags of juicy pork jerky, moon cakes, dried oysters, red dates, instant Tom Yum noodles, Airwaves chewing gum—and maybe if they felt the sides, they’d find the blocks of cane sugar.

“You can’t take this in,” the officer in the black windbreaker said. He rearranged your gifts, your homesick remedies, your food.

“But they’re dried,” you said.

“This one,” he said, picking up the moon cake carton, “has egg in it.”

Whether they throw it all in the trash or swipe it into their bags for tomorrow’s lunch, you never find out.

Aren’t you supposed to be looking for heroin? For human traffickers? For baby ALIENS kept in test tubes? You scream in your head. But the fear that your passport would be stamped with “Refused Admittance,” into the United States, a permanent stain on your records, is tangible enough for you to keep quiet.

You never fight for your souvenirs. You always walk away.

From “How to Be Extraordinary in America” by Ploi Pirapokin

[linseyswrld]

Hello World!(I guess)

(Genuinely I am not gonna lie as writing this does feel awkward, even though I still put effort into researching, downloading the application on my phone, and creating a custom theme for this blog). Anyways, here I am. The girl who always wanted to write since she was a small kid.

The most ironic thing is that I used to write before. But not in English. In Russian. Then I moved to Canada and the war happened in my homeland. Womp womp... (my way of coping with traumatic shit is making uncomfortable jokes, so pleeeease don't feel too awkward (or do, whatever you prefer)).

As you probably have understood, I am from Ukraine. Pity thing, people might say, which is fair. I can not blame others for the sympathy they give to me, whenever I say where I am from. But I am here - in another part of the world, living my teenage dream. I am both lucky and not. My whole existence feels like a pattern of opposite extremities. But maybe this is what means to be a human, right?

During all my three years of living in Canada, I had this idea of a story I wanted to tell. But it was always hard due to a large amount of reasons. Maybe I am not completely ready now, but I am healed. And if I am healed, it means it is time to be strong.

So yeah, this is my first ever post on this blog. I have never had a one in English and the Tumblr one. But I wanna try. I want to write this story, and I want to tell it to the world. It is heavily inspired by my life experience and with each passing day I keep on being more and more confident that "this is that idea". Let's call it The Idea. Lol. Whenever I want to practice my language skills on something less dramatic, my mind keeps coming back to The Idea, so yeah there is no turning away point.

Well, thank you so much for reading all that emotional crap (no, I ACTUALLY mean it, thank you sooo much🫶🫶🫶). I hope we can be friends and you will enjoy this little place of mine.

I will post here not only things that are related to The Idea, but also about my life and who I am.

My name is Alina, but you can call me Linsey

And welcome to my world💕