ever since i made myself available to the webbed world after a long break of over a month, I've been co min to this page everyday. but haven penned down anything...i dunno what to write...and if i know what to write dunno how to put it...sigh!!blame it on the writers block!
while I've been pondering on whether my creative juices have depleted, I've been scrounging the blog world and came upon some real classy posts...unfortunately me the scatter brain forgot to note the pages and so cant share them with ya...sigh!and double sigh!! now these blogs made up for some ultra interesting readings but added to my woes...i wanna write...Boo Hoo Hoo...
gosh!! look at me wailing at the top of my voice..*(though no one can hear) about my stupid writing blocks...
so anyways..one of my friends and a frequent visitor to my blog described my blog as "existentialism and blah"...now ,I'd always thought that existentialism was way up my level of thinking..thought it was all high funda...unreachable...but her describing it in d way that she did makes me ponder...and ponder even more coz there's this nagging in my mind( not without reason) that there must be some pun intended...well! whatever it is i guess i cant change my way of writing...but coming to think of it, my writing has changed( suffered might be a better word) quite a bit...do i let it change..now thats another question...
its not like i've written anything worthwhile here...but the main thing is i've actually written( well, er..typed) something, and that is an achievement as of now...
hopefully next time around instead of writing nothing about something and something about nothing, i'll manage some readworthy stuff...
so long then...ciao
Custom Search
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Monday, November 26, 2007
Quitting!!
due to the general lack of enthusiasm on my part to pen or rather type anything out, which is due to the apparent lack of interesting topics, which in turn is caused by the temporary (hopefully) constipation of my creative and imaginary cells, which came about due to the many 'imaginative' and 'creative' academic writngs and assignments that i had to write out during past few feeks, am quitting blogger till i deem it worthy to come up with type worthy readable stuff. so long then...take care folks
Saturday, November 10, 2007
simple things in life
i was just wondering about those silly little things which i do, that make me so happy. most of it is trivial and silly to the point of being silliest.but yes they certainly are a part of me...an d i enjoy doing them..
i love throwing handfuls of water high into the air and than watch them form little sparkling beads and fall down. And then i love hitting them with my hand so that they break into even tinier droplets. i can spend hours just watching these droplets and splashing them about..its sheer joy!
ever tried pouring water on the walls? i do. everyday, or whenever i have time. i love watching the watter form little rivulets and roll down. i often imagine a race between the rivulets. which one will reach the ground first? and i have a bet with myself...its oodles of fun...
i love travelling in public conveyances. i love looking at people. not exactly staring at them. but just taking a glance. and then i begin attaching names to the people i see. i spin stories. try to imagine their life, their homes, their families. try to attach careers and occupations, generally spend my time making up family histories...
doodling!one of my favourite passtimes.give me a pen/pencil and a paper and i'll doodle. the best thing about doodling is that most often than not, i end up with something to do. might be a new blog post, a new painting, or perhaps the doodling would have reminded me of something else to do...and so doodling becomes a constructive as well as a highly entertaining passtime for me...
silly little passtimes. and all these mean a lot to me. they make me...these little things.
i love throwing handfuls of water high into the air and than watch them form little sparkling beads and fall down. And then i love hitting them with my hand so that they break into even tinier droplets. i can spend hours just watching these droplets and splashing them about..its sheer joy!
ever tried pouring water on the walls? i do. everyday, or whenever i have time. i love watching the watter form little rivulets and roll down. i often imagine a race between the rivulets. which one will reach the ground first? and i have a bet with myself...its oodles of fun...
i love travelling in public conveyances. i love looking at people. not exactly staring at them. but just taking a glance. and then i begin attaching names to the people i see. i spin stories. try to imagine their life, their homes, their families. try to attach careers and occupations, generally spend my time making up family histories...
doodling!one of my favourite passtimes.give me a pen/pencil and a paper and i'll doodle. the best thing about doodling is that most often than not, i end up with something to do. might be a new blog post, a new painting, or perhaps the doodling would have reminded me of something else to do...and so doodling becomes a constructive as well as a highly entertaining passtime for me...
silly little passtimes. and all these mean a lot to me. they make me...these little things.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
questions!
i am no story teller. i do not tell stories. nor do i have any stories to tell. and yet i write. i pour out myself into words, often failing miserably at the attempt. but do i stop? no i write and keep on writing. about what? and why? do i write for me? do i write for you?
am am not me. i was not born me. i was made. by me? but then who is this me? could i ahve been made in any other way than this? would i have been better if i had not been me?or perhaps worse?did you make me?
its cold in here. the climate and the world. for warmth i wear my jacket of love. do i wear it for me? is it someone's jacket that i wear? or do i wear it inside out for others?
is it me or you?
am am not me. i was not born me. i was made. by me? but then who is this me? could i ahve been made in any other way than this? would i have been better if i had not been me?or perhaps worse?did you make me?
its cold in here. the climate and the world. for warmth i wear my jacket of love. do i wear it for me? is it someone's jacket that i wear? or do i wear it inside out for others?
is it me or you?
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Boiling red
I've never been this irritated...am irritated with everything...everyone...all the time
i don't know whats happening to me..i am and i was the easily irritated kind...but these days i am just irritated and angry all the time..
am irritated about the way she walks...ambling along...like an elephant striding...am irritated with his smile..plastered on to his face..the same smile for everyone..no change in the amount, nor the emotion
am irritated that for him, five minutes is always fifteen and is never on time
i am irritated that i have lots to do...and am not working
am irritated that she is not what i though she was...
am irritated with him when he never lets me bitch in peace, am irritated that he finds reasons to justify all the things that i find wrong
the sound of the a/c irritates me...the food that i get to eat everyday on plates which might well have been licked by dogs, the classes that i sit in, the senseless assignments that i do, the amount or lack of sleep, the bed on which i sleep.....everything.....
i am irritated
am angry..
am angry that am irritated and irritated that am angry...
with everything
with everyone
with life...
i don't know whats happening to me..i am and i was the easily irritated kind...but these days i am just irritated and angry all the time..
am irritated about the way she walks...ambling along...like an elephant striding...am irritated with his smile..plastered on to his face..the same smile for everyone..no change in the amount, nor the emotion
am irritated that for him, five minutes is always fifteen and is never on time
i am irritated that i have lots to do...and am not working
am irritated that she is not what i though she was...
am irritated with him when he never lets me bitch in peace, am irritated that he finds reasons to justify all the things that i find wrong
the sound of the a/c irritates me...the food that i get to eat everyday on plates which might well have been licked by dogs, the classes that i sit in, the senseless assignments that i do, the amount or lack of sleep, the bed on which i sleep.....everything.....
i am irritated
am angry..
am angry that am irritated and irritated that am angry...
with everything
with everyone
with life...
Friday, September 28, 2007
silent conversations
Twilight. it is windy yes. and cold too. we climb up and sit on the ground. i feel the wetness on my feet. my legs are no longer aching from the climb.i lean my back on your shoulder. i amnot facing you. you are looking somewhere. so am i.
i see the city from atop the hill. it is a lot more easier to look at it from here than from within it. the noises wouldn't have let me look anyway. the lights from the vehicles wouldn't have made me listen to the sounds of the city anyway. but from here i could see, i could listen. it was harmless, this city, as long as i was not in it. i snuggle a bit more into you. you shift your arm so that i fit in perfectly. i hear you snap a blade of grass. i smile. i know you would bite it now. and yes you do. i can hear the faint sound of your teeth sinking in the grass.i smile again.
a leaf is sticking to my sole. crushed and bruised. "did i do that to you?"
"my life was well lived"
yellow, sodden and dead, the leaf refused to leave my feet. i let it be...i wonder how it is to be a leaf. to dance in the wind, to be green, then yellow, and then perhaps brown, and then fly away...into another life, perhaps to an after life within the pages of a book...must be nice..to hang so high up and feel the breeze...
there is a tree in the distance...its leaves were a vibrant green...when will you be yellow?
"we are still too young"
still too young! am i? i don't know. i don't think so. 20 is not too young. it is young certainly. but too young? i don't want to be old. nor do i want to be too young. young is fine. its perfect. makes me feel nice to be young. don't ask me why. i don't know.
why are you breathing hard? cold? oh yes it is. i hadn't noticed the goosebumps on my hands too. and i know you love the cold. but you like my warmth too don't you? i pull your arms around me. they lie comfortably on my shoulders.i love your hands, for the reason that mine fit into yours so smugly. of course they must..they were made for me..what are you thinking of now? i wonder..are you thinking of where we'll be this time tomorrow?or are you thinking about how the night has fallen since we've sat here? are you thinking of going back? or are you thinking of what i am thinking? or are you thinking about me? are you thinking at all?
u pick a small ant and place it on my arm. i now it wont bite. i trust you. if you expect me to scream you are wrong. i watch the ant explore the back of my arm. and then climb up as if on a mission.you suddenly flick it away. i snicker silently. i foiled your mission. i dint scream.
wind again in my hair. i love the sound that it makes...but i don't know what sound it is. it is your sound isn't it? the one only you can make?i don't want to reproduce it. i just want to listen and to feel you on my cheeks. you are really cold today. i shiver a bit...
its night. i see the white stars above me. its cloudy. and the moon has gone hiding.i cant find it. i feel your touch on my palm. i look at you. i brush off the mud and leaves from my skirt as best as i can, not that i try too hard.. and pull myself up. you stand up and stretch your legs.
we start on our way downhill....
i see the city from atop the hill. it is a lot more easier to look at it from here than from within it. the noises wouldn't have let me look anyway. the lights from the vehicles wouldn't have made me listen to the sounds of the city anyway. but from here i could see, i could listen. it was harmless, this city, as long as i was not in it. i snuggle a bit more into you. you shift your arm so that i fit in perfectly. i hear you snap a blade of grass. i smile. i know you would bite it now. and yes you do. i can hear the faint sound of your teeth sinking in the grass.i smile again.
a leaf is sticking to my sole. crushed and bruised. "did i do that to you?"
"my life was well lived"
yellow, sodden and dead, the leaf refused to leave my feet. i let it be...i wonder how it is to be a leaf. to dance in the wind, to be green, then yellow, and then perhaps brown, and then fly away...into another life, perhaps to an after life within the pages of a book...must be nice..to hang so high up and feel the breeze...
there is a tree in the distance...its leaves were a vibrant green...when will you be yellow?
"we are still too young"
still too young! am i? i don't know. i don't think so. 20 is not too young. it is young certainly. but too young? i don't want to be old. nor do i want to be too young. young is fine. its perfect. makes me feel nice to be young. don't ask me why. i don't know.
why are you breathing hard? cold? oh yes it is. i hadn't noticed the goosebumps on my hands too. and i know you love the cold. but you like my warmth too don't you? i pull your arms around me. they lie comfortably on my shoulders.i love your hands, for the reason that mine fit into yours so smugly. of course they must..they were made for me..what are you thinking of now? i wonder..are you thinking of where we'll be this time tomorrow?or are you thinking about how the night has fallen since we've sat here? are you thinking of going back? or are you thinking of what i am thinking? or are you thinking about me? are you thinking at all?
u pick a small ant and place it on my arm. i now it wont bite. i trust you. if you expect me to scream you are wrong. i watch the ant explore the back of my arm. and then climb up as if on a mission.you suddenly flick it away. i snicker silently. i foiled your mission. i dint scream.
wind again in my hair. i love the sound that it makes...but i don't know what sound it is. it is your sound isn't it? the one only you can make?i don't want to reproduce it. i just want to listen and to feel you on my cheeks. you are really cold today. i shiver a bit...
its night. i see the white stars above me. its cloudy. and the moon has gone hiding.i cant find it. i feel your touch on my palm. i look at you. i brush off the mud and leaves from my skirt as best as i can, not that i try too hard.. and pull myself up. you stand up and stretch your legs.
we start on our way downhill....
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
autobiography of a pen..
i am a pen.red and shiny i am, but i have always written in blue..royally. she used to fondle me, kiss me, take me on her sojourns, through people, places and events...i have travelled so much...through pages and pages of her writing...her lucky pen she used to call me...
i remember her crying when she put me down accidentally one day, and dented my nib...(i still have a dented nib..and she reckons i write better that way..)and i so wanted to console her,write 'am OK. really!' on the white sheet of paper she had before her. but alas i couldn't. coz even though they call us mightier than the sword,we don't have a stand on our own. we cant stand up. nor can we express what we feel. we can write what our owners feel, what they want us to...nothing else...
i enjoyed running over pages, telling about all that she felt. ..made me cry sometimes,reading what she wrote. that's when i bled...and she went berserk at that coz bleed is what good pens are not supposed to do...if only she understood why i bled
i loved being with her. lucky pen she used to call me...and proud i was of that status...
i am on the wait now...for her to pick me up...and give me some exercise. i miss reading into her mind. i miss being the first person to know what she felt. i miss her. she never comes to me these days..i see her fingers flying over black and white keys, her eyes fixed on a flickering white screen...they are her friends now..and i am neglected. they print what she says...but they will never smell her hand, nor see her beautiful writing...they will never bleed for her...nor will they think for her...
i stay in her pen stand...waiting to taken in her arms again...drink in ink once more and spill it all out for her...but i guess i wait in vain...
pen!
i remember her crying when she put me down accidentally one day, and dented my nib...(i still have a dented nib..and she reckons i write better that way..)and i so wanted to console her,write 'am OK. really!' on the white sheet of paper she had before her. but alas i couldn't. coz even though they call us mightier than the sword,we don't have a stand on our own. we cant stand up. nor can we express what we feel. we can write what our owners feel, what they want us to...nothing else...
i enjoyed running over pages, telling about all that she felt. ..made me cry sometimes,reading what she wrote. that's when i bled...and she went berserk at that coz bleed is what good pens are not supposed to do...if only she understood why i bled
i loved being with her. lucky pen she used to call me...and proud i was of that status...
i am on the wait now...for her to pick me up...and give me some exercise. i miss reading into her mind. i miss being the first person to know what she felt. i miss her. she never comes to me these days..i see her fingers flying over black and white keys, her eyes fixed on a flickering white screen...they are her friends now..and i am neglected. they print what she says...but they will never smell her hand, nor see her beautiful writing...they will never bleed for her...nor will they think for her...
i stay in her pen stand...waiting to taken in her arms again...drink in ink once more and spill it all out for her...but i guess i wait in vain...
pen!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
days...
everyday seems to be the same...mundane doing things which make no sense to me. even if they do, they just don't register.books, texts, assignments...they make no sense to me..is this where i wanted to end up? i don't know...am not sure anymore..
incompetence is getting to me...i who never ever bothered about anything...at least nothing academically find myself in a group where people speak and talk about things that never ever mattered to me...when they should perhaps have...i find myself trying to come out of my comfort zone-the easy world.but then again i do not want to. for what do i achieve when i come out?
am not sure what i want. i am not sure where i want to be....
its frustrating when you know you have to work, and you do, but nothing ever seems enough...nothing..and while you are it, this voice nags from somewhere..this is not what you wanted..this is not where you wanted to be..and i counter it..if not this,then what?but this doesnt help...the voices in my head..screeching,bellowing,hollereing, all at once....it just doesnt help...
its frustrating when you cannot really tell anyone about what you are going through, coz for one thing you are clueless yourself...and for another you just dont want to tell it out lest you prove yourself weak...and yet another reason, you just dont want to let anyone down by narrating your feelings..
and yet i put them all on a public page like this...dint i tell you a short while ago that i dont know what i want...i just dont know...
incompetence is getting to me...i who never ever bothered about anything...at least nothing academically find myself in a group where people speak and talk about things that never ever mattered to me...when they should perhaps have...i find myself trying to come out of my comfort zone-the easy world.but then again i do not want to. for what do i achieve when i come out?
am not sure what i want. i am not sure where i want to be....
its frustrating when you know you have to work, and you do, but nothing ever seems enough...nothing..and while you are it, this voice nags from somewhere..this is not what you wanted..this is not where you wanted to be..and i counter it..if not this,then what?but this doesnt help...the voices in my head..screeching,bellowing,hollereing, all at once....it just doesnt help...
its frustrating when you cannot really tell anyone about what you are going through, coz for one thing you are clueless yourself...and for another you just dont want to tell it out lest you prove yourself weak...and yet another reason, you just dont want to let anyone down by narrating your feelings..
and yet i put them all on a public page like this...dint i tell you a short while ago that i dont know what i want...i just dont know...
Saturday, September 15, 2007
writing
a screen...
white flickering white
a mind...
blank dull confused
thoughts...
muddled wild irrational
i sit
cold alone aloof
i hear
voices sounds noises
i see
everything and nothing
fingers move
on letters black
of thoughts unclear
impressions form
slowly, deliberately
testimony to thoughts?
i look around
am cold
am aloof
i dream of warmth
white flickering white
a mind...
blank dull confused
thoughts...
muddled wild irrational
i sit
cold alone aloof
i hear
voices sounds noises
i see
everything and nothing
fingers move
on letters black
of thoughts unclear
impressions form
slowly, deliberately
testimony to thoughts?
i look around
am cold
am aloof
i dream of warmth
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)