Greetings.
It feels good to return to the warm embrace of the bloggersphere, after the extended period of absentia that I indulged myself with. A lot of things happened, from the center of my universe over that period of time.
I finally plucked up the courage to send in pieces of writing to a few daily newspapers, and was rewarded with my first letters of rejection. Two other magazines turned away my internship applications for the winter. Cockroaches have wings, which still terrifies me, and the books that I accidentally borrowed from the library are way overdue.
So, yes. I have been alive, and I have been living.
But I wouldn't say that I've 'grown' as a person. No, I haven't grown much. I think. Rather I've felt some progress in becoming an 'entity' which can understand my own behavior. To an extent. It's a conjecture that I have reached based on a curious occurrence, which exasperates me a great deal.
Often, (Too often) the best states of mind to write anything that isn't an insult to the tree that gave you the paper in the first place - is before something definite. This is a personal problem, just to clarify, but often I find myself writing most steadily, just before a meal.
And this turns out to be a very big problem. Usually, I would type out a few sentences, go 'hmmm' with a dramatically elongated pause at the end, shrug, then go out to eat.
When I return, I would wonder if the low blood-sugar before the meal was the reason that I had written - shall we say - Frivolous drivel? It's certainly a darkly amusing experience when I feel a sharp urge to take a sledgehammer and whack myself at 4AM in the night.
It's just that my thoughts change too much. in too short a span of time. I long for the freedom that comes with being able to gallop across vast spaces of white, with letters of black. The thirst for that freedom is what finally forced me to push everything aside, and return - to my blog.
There. I said it. One of the things that I feared the most was to admit what I wanted to myself. A blog. A chance to write. A niche of my own, carved by tools only I can behold.
I reread all of my previous posts, and I found that I rarely spoke about this - the very act of letting the mind take shape. An acknowledgement of how awesome this is, having a blog, a space of my own.
Accepting that I wanted all of that and more, was a big step. In a direction.
Whether it's the right direction,..... I'm not certain yet. But it's certainly a step, and I am feeling terribly curious.
After all, what's the worst that could happen (Ok, so I'm in the middle of my end-semester examinations, so,,, I think we got that covered).
