It’s kind of expected (by readers as well as the writers) to make a welcoming-of-the-new-year post, especially if they’ve been seeing it in the past, like in the case of this blog. I had it planned, but one thing that even my optimistic self would accept is that life is very very uncertain. However much you hate change, it is the only constant (that clichéd line again, yes) and you reach a point where you *finally* stop running away from it. It is never easy to embrace change. In fact, it is the hardest thing I find, something I hate doing, something that makes me fear that my whole life is on a change trajectory, something that makes me extremely uncomfortable only because I love my comfort zone. But anyway, I understand that when you try too much to escape, it only builds in magnitude and later comes crashing down on you. And then it hurts a lot.
I understand that not everything will be perfect. You may want it to be, you may hate the imperfections, but it just isn’t “supposed” to be perfect, because then we wouldn’t have anything to work for and we’d stop being human.
Even if you’re an optimist with an ever-ready “it’s okay” at the tip of your tongue, there will be some problems to which you can’t reply with those words. You will yourself get into situations and feelings where these words would sound useless. And really, you just have to accept the fact that some things in life are just not okay and sometimes you just have to live with it. It can’t always be okay-ish and happy-ish, because some things would inevitably hurt, even if you’re an escapist or a protect-ist. This ridiculously pessimist-sounding stuff would catch up with you, no matter what.
Once an Indian, always an Indian. And always being plagued by some kinds of Indianness and mindset, no matter how you want it to be. Even if you run away to live in another country, you’d still be haunted by stupid things associated with being an Indian. Even if your whole family is awesome, you’d still have problems, because with Indians, you can’t be just “you”. You have to look at the whole society, culture, customs and all those things you actually respect, but they don’t necessarily return the favour. How dare you even think about just yourself? You have to live according to superficial rules, or else you’re a dark blot on the society and no one would ever love your family again. *Wishing she could have been a gareeb angrez instead*
|Pic credit: Me|
I understand that I won’t understand everything (even though I am quite amazing when it comes to understanding, but still) and it’s foolish to feel bad about not ‘getting it’. Also, I’m not a social being. I can focus on just a few people outside my own self at a given time, and trying to add more people into it just causes problems for me. As an experimental thing, I deactivated my Facebook account recently, just for a while, and although there isn’t enough evidence to prove it, I think there is somehow a correlation between my happy nature and switching that source of interaction off. For one, I can focus more on “my” things (reading, writing, thinking, crafting, talking to people who’re close to me). Secondly, I am not in contact with other people’s lives as much. Do I really need to know what 300 something of my FB friends are up to? I really don’t have that much of time. I used to scoff at those who deactivated accounts, but now? Not so much. I see how it can reduce the level of noise in your life. And sometimes, you just need silence.
I understand that I don’t have any ‘blog-obligations’. Y’know, like to make a New Year post (however much I had wanted to), making a certain number of posts a month, keeping away from openly writing about feelings, etc. In fact, when I read one of my favourite columnists, Natasha Badhwar, talking about writing about feelings and experiences and your own stories, I’m even more open to them! Consider this line that makes you go “Ohhh yess!!”
“The struggle to express is a struggle to heal”
I’ve been having trouble writing since the past few months, not because I suddenly don’t know how to write, but simply because I mostly write on stuff drawn from experience, and at that time, I didn’t quite know how to deal with myself, I was trying to heal and hence, struggling with expressing.
“The power to write your own story will come to you when you give up the fear that your truth will somehow hurt you”
Really. Why don’t we write about things that hurt us? What we learned from it, or rather, how much we hate it? Because we try to ignore the truth, we don’t acknowledge it, we turn into escapists. That is why.
And oh yes, I also understand how cool it is when you can get this idea from a cool friend to write posts in a font you prefer. ;)