If a writer falls in love with you, you live forever.
365 days passed so fast. 365 days of blogging or the lack of it. I am not a big fan of birthdays or any other kind of celebrations, not that I do not enjoy it, it’s just that I find them unnecessary due to my lack of time for writing. A hearty wish is more important to me then a party and gifts. I flutter and smile like a child when my siblings and my parents wish me and I take in their sweet thoughtful presents like a child. “What did you bring me?” I would ask like a child and gasp getting excited when my brother presents me with a Harry Potter book on my 16th birthday! Gosh! Best gift ever. So guess what happened when my blog turned a year old on the 3rd of July? Nothing special! I wished myself and went to sleep. Hardly even came online for almost half the month. Didn’t even mention it to anyone.
Obvious as is, I didn’t feel proud, I argued with myself as I went to sleep. I had not been blogging continuously, I blog for a month then I am absent for weeks before I come back again. I read some amazing blogs and I have some absolutely lovely followers who never fail to encourage me but I’m too busy to pay much-needed attention to my writing. I felt sad and disheartened at the thought of it. I kept feeling like a failure and I don’t remember anything making me this unhappy in a long time. I want to write. “Ten to twelve hours of job, house chores, so many expectations riding on your shoulders – at your job – at your home – from yourself, you need to read books, study, make journals, do you have the time?” My sensible mind argues with me and the childish writer inside me jumps, scared shit-less. When the hell am I going to write?
To be true, I haven’t the slightest idea. Shamelessly I accepted to myself and then my other self (The writer) said, “Yeah! sure, let me go to waste!” To which I replied honestly, “You know I can not do that. I go mad without you. I have to figure something out and you have to help me! You and I go together, we need to stop acting like two lovelorn lovers unaware of each other! You and your muse, never showing up when I am sitting in front of a laptop, scared and alone because I can’t produce a word. Do you know how that feels?”
“Ooooh, the sad little baby wants to talk about feelings. I jump and cry for your attention when I have ideas and you ignore me! You ignore me and my muse. No matter we refuse to show up when you require! We are not your slaves!”
“Aaah, that’s outrageous! You come in the middle of my working hours and at night when every bone in my body is screaming with pain urging me to take some rest. How can I listen to you then?”
“Bankers and their unreasonable excuses! What about those three hours of morning when you sleep like a buffalo in the water with no consciousness of her whereabouts, lazing around just because she feels like it!”
“You did not just call me a buffalo! I wish I could just throw you out the window and be done with this madness! You shameless excuse of a writer! Never writing anything I would actually like!”
Having passed the three stages of normal human outrage, feeling sorry for oneself – excusing oneself – blaming – now we come to accepting with a short embrace of silence.
“Okay. Fine. How does a schedule sound? I get back from job and you get to write before I go to sleep?” The banker pleads the writer. “What if you are worn out, like you always are? How do we proceed then?” Writer is still not sure of my resolve, she is right to ask so, I have said this before too. So unsure, I only manage a mumble, “If I am worn out I’ll sleep and write in morning?” “hmm, let’s see. Let’s experiment with it. After all I am not a faucet which will provide water as and when you might want. Art takes time. Let’s experiment for our best time to write and have fun.”
We agreed to make a schedule so I can give her some time to write. It’s horrible when she is not around, drives me mad. So I have decided to let the writer in me do her job and spare her some time for it. Now all I have to do is make a schedule and stick to it. Sometimes I feel like giving up my entire real life to give into my imaginary worlds, reading and writing. Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps.
365 Days of Blogging
365 Days. 8,760 Hours Since My Petridish Was Born.
The writer, she asks me, how was my 365 days of blogging? Absolute horror! Amazing! I wrote some good posts, I made some new blogging buddies and I loathed at writing. I discovered that I am quite awful and my writer friend, she hates me! So I am going to devote the next 365 days to her. I am going to try to give her minimum an hour a day when she can write. Fingers crossed. Do I hear some incantations? Oh please, pray for me! lol Yes, I can hear her laugh since she already knows.
My Petridish began as a fun and experimental blog. My very first post was about procrastination! I loved the idea of having a personal space for speaking up and doing things I love to do. But I have not been really active. After a long year of fighting with myself about what to share and what not to, what to write? How to write fights with my inner self. I came to know – sick or in pain, sad or happy, angry or disheartened, I want to write. Every writer suffers through the white page syndrome where they sit and can not put a word on the page. Nail Gaiman’s famous words can help there. He says,
“Being a writer is a very peculiar sort of job: it’s always you versus a blank sheet of paper (or a blank screen) and quite often the blank piece of paper wins.” – Neil Gaiman
Writing is the one thing that makes me feel incredibly happy with myself. Writing also has the power to make me feel utterly useless and empty. I feel complete when I am writing. Even if I can’t write well, I will keep writing. Gotta Keep reminding myself, “Practice, Practice, Practice.”
Give yourself a breather and just live, forget about writing for a moment.. It’s a tough job for someone like me who is always up about things, this has to be done, that has to be done, I have no time for myself, I can’t write today – don’t you see I have to stay back in office? I am so exhausted, I need to rest. I don’t feel like writing, I want to watch a movie! I want to give up all these excuses and just write.
Why am I writing all of this here? It’s more for myself then for anyone else. Maybe this is the first time in a year I feel like I am opening up. These 365 days have been life changing. Not much has changed but being here, with all you lovely people, being able to write and share my thoughts, it has been an amazing time. I don’t want to stop blogging, ever.
Here’s to a whole New Year of writing & blogging, Kampai`! All the best to myself. 🙂 As for you my dear reader, my dearest friends, I wish you have a wonderful today adding up to a wonderful year everyday. All the best to us all. Have fun. 🙂
Update: On the outset, I read a wonderful poem about an inner critic this week on Donna Donabella’s blog Livingfromhappiness. It would be a delightful read. Go ahead and jump to Donna’s poem – Inner Critic.
Have fun. 🙂