As we are coming to the end of the year... blah blah... and set to enter a new year... blah blah. I am so tired of this. There was a time, as in once upon a time, a week before Christmas, when Dad brought home a bunch of greeting cards and covers. I was the one to be asked to sit near him and put his thoughts into English, and spell out certain words. He would constantly keep goading me that my words were not the way he wanted them to be. “You see... something is clearly missing?” It was just a card Dad my mind would cry, but then, I dare not speak that out, you see it was once-upon-a-time days.
And then came the Millennium, 1999 was the year I got married and 2000 was a big deal as if everything would change forever. But then except the hype, everything was just the usual. And then of course came the era of texting how 1st Feb 2003, 4hrs 56mins was special 1/2/3 4:56. Apart from the days, dates, month, year specialties, the New Year resolution is another cliché that makes me wonder do teetotalers even have a place on Earth?
One thing, the only thing I crave for, on every New Year eve is a diary, with pages wide enough for me to write and my only thinkable resolution every year, to fill up every page with my blusters. But I have never had a diary to start writing from the very first day of the year; I usually got it a few days into the year, and the number of words that I filled them up with, usually faded to just noting down some event reminder. But people always gifted me calendars, something I am allergic to. Recently I politely refused a few, the first time ever and happy about that ;)
So, with Facebook and Skype notifying me birthdays of friends and my smart phone holding contacts, I calm myself blogging occasionally. But the itch to own a diary arises every time I pass shops selling them. Old habits die hard, and so with the year drawing to a close, there was this itch to blog something today, being the last day of the year, and one tomorrow, to kick start a glorious year. As I checked my organizer (well, I am a bit organized!) to decide on what to write, the line “The bouquet of sixteen red roses lay regally on the” caught up my attention.
Early this year I was planning to write short stories, and this was supposed to be in the thriller/mystery genre. By the time I typed the word "regally", I wondered if it would be possible for me to write one, with limited words, and I limited my writing to that one incomplete sentence and moved on. Today I continued the line with "... white satin bedspread" and wrote whatever I felt. It must be one of my, only one of my quick writes.
And what I ended up was my usual pathetic romantic write-up. So at last I have understood that I am a hopeless romantic who ended up being the soul of this practical and witty idiot, who bleeds emotions every time she sits to write seriously. So maybe I have some multiple personality disorder. While I make such nasty jokes, charming one-liners, witty texts among friends, I blog teary-eyed and make my friends wonder if I am seriously in some hot peppered soup.
I am really tired of explaining them that this Blogger-Me is different from the Real-Me, and tried proving by writing lighter ones, and delving into crime (only fictional!), humor and thriller genres, but I failed to write and worse still failed miserably to impress my own self. So I am making peace with myself into writing what my soul wants me to write, that comforts it and is more comfortable.
And another great revelation today, is my favorite color. Every time somebody asks me my favorite color I wondered how to single out just one. I was so unsure. Green was the color of my wedding saree that I had been admonished for by everyone I ever knew. Pink was the color of the saree I bought from my first salary. Black is something mom wouldn’t want me to wear, the only reason the rebel in me love it all the more. White never stayed white, always tinged with the color of the border. Well write about color and I am priding about my sarees. Color for me related more to dress!
My blog template has also been changed so often due to this feeling of mine. I was not able to zero-in on my favorite color and ended up choosing maroon, and some black, and some green and so on. The previous template was black, and I found it straining on my eyes to read. So when changing the template for the umpteenth time did I notice that my heart swelled every time I tried the blue color.
So at last at 41 I have found out that blue is indeed my favorite color. Reminiscing the past, I have ended up designing all my web pages in blue after trying almost every other color. The most loved book that I would love to re-read and be seen reading on my last moment on earth, ‘The Zahir’ also happens to have a blue cover! (that sounds bizarre, right?) My Sony Vaio the one on which I am typing now is blue color (I can actually hear my friend chide me with a 'sounds so childish' comment exactly at this point).
So more than me going after blue color, it is blue that reaches out to me soulfully. What a revelation on New Year Eve! Feeling blissfully at peace at last... :)
And then came the Millennium, 1999 was the year I got married and 2000 was a big deal as if everything would change forever. But then except the hype, everything was just the usual. And then of course came the era of texting how 1st Feb 2003, 4hrs 56mins was special 1/2/3 4:56. Apart from the days, dates, month, year specialties, the New Year resolution is another cliché that makes me wonder do teetotalers even have a place on Earth?
One thing, the only thing I crave for, on every New Year eve is a diary, with pages wide enough for me to write and my only thinkable resolution every year, to fill up every page with my blusters. But I have never had a diary to start writing from the very first day of the year; I usually got it a few days into the year, and the number of words that I filled them up with, usually faded to just noting down some event reminder. But people always gifted me calendars, something I am allergic to. Recently I politely refused a few, the first time ever and happy about that ;)
So, with Facebook and Skype notifying me birthdays of friends and my smart phone holding contacts, I calm myself blogging occasionally. But the itch to own a diary arises every time I pass shops selling them. Old habits die hard, and so with the year drawing to a close, there was this itch to blog something today, being the last day of the year, and one tomorrow, to kick start a glorious year. As I checked my organizer (well, I am a bit organized!) to decide on what to write, the line “The bouquet of sixteen red roses lay regally on the” caught up my attention.
Early this year I was planning to write short stories, and this was supposed to be in the thriller/mystery genre. By the time I typed the word "regally", I wondered if it would be possible for me to write one, with limited words, and I limited my writing to that one incomplete sentence and moved on. Today I continued the line with "... white satin bedspread" and wrote whatever I felt. It must be one of my, only one of my quick writes.
And what I ended up was my usual pathetic romantic write-up. So at last I have understood that I am a hopeless romantic who ended up being the soul of this practical and witty idiot, who bleeds emotions every time she sits to write seriously. So maybe I have some multiple personality disorder. While I make such nasty jokes, charming one-liners, witty texts among friends, I blog teary-eyed and make my friends wonder if I am seriously in some hot peppered soup.
I am really tired of explaining them that this Blogger-Me is different from the Real-Me, and tried proving by writing lighter ones, and delving into crime (only fictional!), humor and thriller genres, but I failed to write and worse still failed miserably to impress my own self. So I am making peace with myself into writing what my soul wants me to write, that comforts it and is more comfortable.
And another great revelation today, is my favorite color. Every time somebody asks me my favorite color I wondered how to single out just one. I was so unsure. Green was the color of my wedding saree that I had been admonished for by everyone I ever knew. Pink was the color of the saree I bought from my first salary. Black is something mom wouldn’t want me to wear, the only reason the rebel in me love it all the more. White never stayed white, always tinged with the color of the border. Well write about color and I am priding about my sarees. Color for me related more to dress!
My blog template has also been changed so often due to this feeling of mine. I was not able to zero-in on my favorite color and ended up choosing maroon, and some black, and some green and so on. The previous template was black, and I found it straining on my eyes to read. So when changing the template for the umpteenth time did I notice that my heart swelled every time I tried the blue color.
So at last at 41 I have found out that blue is indeed my favorite color. Reminiscing the past, I have ended up designing all my web pages in blue after trying almost every other color. The most loved book that I would love to re-read and be seen reading on my last moment on earth, ‘The Zahir’ also happens to have a blue cover! (that sounds bizarre, right?) My Sony Vaio the one on which I am typing now is blue color (I can actually hear my friend chide me with a 'sounds so childish' comment exactly at this point).
So more than me going after blue color, it is blue that reaches out to me soulfully. What a revelation on New Year Eve! Feeling blissfully at peace at last... :)
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