A Toast and a Spirit
I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe a torrent of ardent pathos? Maybe a plethora of words and feelings flowing through my mind that just have to be put out? Maybe a phase? An instinct? Or maybe something so moot to even comprehend? Don’t know. Don’t wanna know. I just have to write something. Get those feelings out of me in form of words. I don’t know what feelings. Something. I don’t even know if I’ll ever put it out of the drafts. But if/when I do, it won’t be altered. So long, self-censoring.
In the pursuit of writing something perfect (what is perfect?), I feel the mundane epiphanies are lost somewhere. And in the grand scheme of things, I feel this average piece of junk is more important than we give it credit for. I’ve always enjoyed writing. It helps me learn more about myself. A stage for me to portray how I perceive the world in my mind. And in the process, I find something more precious. How I think. Meta-cognition. A bit more me discovered.
Maybe I take life too seriously. A bit more than I should. Thinking what I’ll miss if I don’t prepare myself enough (FOMO is it?). Guess it’s fine to loosen up a bit and think about living in the moment once in a while. Carpe Diem. For all it’s worth, I’ll just write whatever I could. Maybe regularly. Maybe something technical too. But for now, this is what it is.
For no obvious reason, these lines from The God of Small Things comes to mind:
“Here they learned to Wait. To Watch. To think thoughts and not voice them.”
Sachin.
P.S - The title and description of this blog/rant are from a song I’m listening right now while writing this and I love it:
