. . . the first . . .whatever!

photographed by me

A friend recommended I start a blog to document all the intense thoughts that I otherwise type and send as a Whatsapp message to my close friends to read or post on my Whatsapp 24 hours statuses which can be viewed by people who I think should view them. So either she likes what I send her or she just wanted me to stop sending her intense stuff (I love you Nive 😗 . . . I am just kidding) because she also suggested I keep my stuff unpublished to general public and just document it, so that I read it later. But then I cannot blame her for that since I also said I didn't wish anyone to see most of my thoughts, hence I can't accuse her of being a nice friend who cringes at my writing, because that's usually me. Anyway, she did say she liked my writing. . .  so here we are!

I am not a writer, neither did I aspire to be one as a kid, although I did have friends who wanted to be and are very good at it. I hate those motherf**kers and their writing. . . because its good, most of the time. But, me being a writer? that was a sick joke I would tell myself if I wanted to throw up for some reason. In fact, the thought of writing my own thoughts down was as audacious as blasphemy is to my  60 year old Catholic neighbor.  I am almost dyslexic, well, "almost" because I am an almost at very many things. I got potential which seems to be at status quo till today. The Promise in me has remained till day that. . . a promise.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't a self loathing blog which is meant to be funny and cathartic like Chandler Bing's character. Although, I did at one point take pride in the fact that a male friend of mine said that if I were a man, I'd be Chandler Bing. The comfort of self pity was so lucrative and satisfying, I never really thought that self deprecation was a ego boost for me.

I don't want to get all philosophical or all Freud about my life, that's what any egoistic, too full of herself self, self-pitying wanna be suicidal tortured almost a writer would do. But not me! I am grounded in my own shit at the moment. Grounded literally because there is a virus threatening to kill people by making them sneeze. And even if there wasn't a life threatening flu out there, I still be Grounded in  my own shit . . .

So here I am exploring the moment! Which seems to be the only thing under my control. And that is the theme of this unpublished blog, and the theme of my life because lets face it, the only common theme in my writing is going to be exploring the moment because consistency in my thoughts is an alien thought to me.


P.S. I decided to publish it lest I don't come out of the current lockdown alive.