January 24, 2012

humour me.

Oftentimes, during moments of complete freedom, I stare at the computer and the computer stares back at me. The cursor blinks and I type in a word, just to tempt ideas to flow from my head and out onto the New Document staring at me. That’s how it normally works, when I go through some sort of a “writer’s block”. I type in whatever nonsense I can think of, delete that nonsense, and finally come up with a not-so-nonsense piece of writing.

But of late, it hasn’t worked its wonders. Not like it usually does. So, instead of producing nonsense for people to read (if there is anyone reading), I come up with nothing at all.

I’m trying to pinpoint a reason or 2 as to why I am so... blocked. Thing is, after rummaging through my head (hyperbolically speaking, of course), I have discovered that there are thoughts. Loads of them. It’s just that I haven’t managed to put them all down on paper, whether virtual or physical. In other words, my thoughts are so ALL OVER THE PLACE, I can’t seem to make head and tail of what it is I’m trying to say.

And I’m sorry, but you’ve just had to finish 3 paras of preamble, before I actually get to my point, which I’m beginning to wonder, if there is any.

In the end, I put it all down to my lack of youth. Seriously. Sometimes, I don’t know what happened to that person who I used to call me. I used to anticipate “events” and “funny conversations” because then, I could go back to my blog to report them. Like it was crucial for me to update on the ongoings in my life, to make me look like I had a “life” of some sort. So that I don’t look like a loser who didn’t have friends or things to look forward to.

Now strangely, though I do go out, go on oh-so-random dates with my husband at ungodly hours, sometimes (yes, at 3 in the morning one time), meet up with friends and have very meaningful conversations over coffee or ice cream, I don’t seem to care much about taking photos and uploading them or even “reporting” them to this space, like I used to.

And strange but true, but I seem to think of the act of “reporting of events” will make me seem more of a loser because then, it would look like I am trying too hard to impress. Who? I can’t quite figure that out myself yet, too.

In the end, I don’t know which is better (or more pathetic); to be able to know that you’ve grown out of the habit of “reporting” everything and being able to instead enjoy and savour the moment you are in without worrying how nice/terrible you look like in the photos OR losing that part of you who used to love taking photos of everything and recording every moment that mattered at that moment so that you could look back in wonderment of how silly/funny/terrible things were like at some point in your life.

More than anything, at this very moment, I just feel like there’s nothing that I want to write that hasn’t already been written. And that nothing I can write that can people can relate to. Either way, I just want to find that balance, in hopes that I have not become some other person whom I hardly know anymore.

And I hope that I’ll somehow finally find it in my heart to be ecstatic about the little things that used to humour me. Where on earth did my youth go to? Really, where?


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