It's been more than a year since I started this blog(September 18,20..)I had to stop and look back at the date to my first entry and it said September 18, 2010. How did two years just go by?
Recovering from the previous line..Phew!
I have been tempted to join Lisa -Jo in the "31 days to Write your story". But the commitment to do that this time was too much of a choice to make. But I had to put in at least a post. To settle the ramblings of my mind during my 30 minute quiet shower at 10 pm. (Note: This usually doesn't happen at all.The shower , I mean.)
How did it all start?
I loved to scribble as a child. It even extended to walls and furniture. Once, after an intense disciplining moment by my mother, the scribbling appeared to stop for a few days. During a cleaning day, when my mom pushed the couch away from the wall to hoover that area, she found out why I had stopped scribbling. The wall behind the couch was scribbled to the maximum. I had to vent it out, apparently.
I signed my silly signature in every book I had. I labelled them by letters and numbers just like in a library. And I poured over my diary. Which was always locked in my study table. My brother faithfully broke open the lock everyday to read it. I think, I realized he was reading it when he couldn't stop rolling with laughter as he told my mom that I was in love with "Prince Eric" from Disney's Little Mermaid. (Gees.. was I immature or what?). So I stopped writing. And picked it up only in university. But then again carrying all of it from one place to another, one university to another, proved to be heavy luggage in addition to all the other things I collected over the years.
Then, before I got married, I decided to put an end to all the university diaries with its silliness, secrets and worries by burning them in our "out house" in India where the wood burned. New beginnings... and also to make sure no one read it. I now wonder what the need was to burn it... Dramatics was in high fashion in those days.
I chose not to write anywhere for a long time and it clogged my mind with all the things I wanted to put down on paper. I wasn't the writer in the family. My brother wrote poems and stories. Not me. I barely could get through school. My family called my school education the "continuing saga" . I was forever stationed at my study table.
Blogs came into existence , and I casually read those of friends and strangers and swore that I couldnt possibly convert the ramblings into writing. So, two years ago, I had to vent it out somewhere. And found this space at the right moment to birth.
That stopped after a few posts and rose again when I met this wonderful person in my church called Tracey from "Control the Chaos" then and "Intend to Live" now. She rekindled that fire that shook those ramblings live again and needed to be written.
I found "Five minute Fridays" through Tracey and this proved to be the best thing ever to systematically and casually, without hesitance, without thinking, to put my thoughts to the screen. And so began my journey with up's and down's, but oh so joyous!
I am not a writer. But here I am.
Recovering from the previous line..Phew!
I have been tempted to join Lisa -Jo in the "31 days to Write your story". But the commitment to do that this time was too much of a choice to make. But I had to put in at least a post. To settle the ramblings of my mind during my 30 minute quiet shower at 10 pm. (Note: This usually doesn't happen at all.The shower , I mean.)
How did it all start?
I loved to scribble as a child. It even extended to walls and furniture. Once, after an intense disciplining moment by my mother, the scribbling appeared to stop for a few days. During a cleaning day, when my mom pushed the couch away from the wall to hoover that area, she found out why I had stopped scribbling. The wall behind the couch was scribbled to the maximum. I had to vent it out, apparently.
 |
| My brother and I |
Then, before I got married, I decided to put an end to all the university diaries with its silliness, secrets and worries by burning them in our "out house" in India where the wood burned. New beginnings... and also to make sure no one read it. I now wonder what the need was to burn it... Dramatics was in high fashion in those days.
I chose not to write anywhere for a long time and it clogged my mind with all the things I wanted to put down on paper. I wasn't the writer in the family. My brother wrote poems and stories. Not me. I barely could get through school. My family called my school education the "continuing saga" . I was forever stationed at my study table.
Blogs came into existence , and I casually read those of friends and strangers and swore that I couldnt possibly convert the ramblings into writing. So, two years ago, I had to vent it out somewhere. And found this space at the right moment to birth.
That stopped after a few posts and rose again when I met this wonderful person in my church called Tracey from "Control the Chaos" then and "Intend to Live" now. She rekindled that fire that shook those ramblings live again and needed to be written.
I found "Five minute Fridays" through Tracey and this proved to be the best thing ever to systematically and casually, without hesitance, without thinking, to put my thoughts to the screen. And so began my journey with up's and down's, but oh so joyous!
I am not a writer. But here I am.
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