I wipe my glasses clean and peer down on my laptop screen hoping to word my thoughts and arrange my expressions and thoughts into something tangible, something concrete, and something that is totally trivial and whimsical. There are at times when I genuinely want to write something but nothing appears on the MS Word document that I use to write my blog. The blank document is anything but reflective of my mind, I guess that it is the unbound, unlimited, all encompassing laziness that one tends to get engross in. Not that blog is like a breathing exercise; I will not cease to be a being or think nor cease to exist even if I don’t blog, the wheel of time will continue to turn and tides will rise high and fall low.
By the way just for the record, today was one of the more pleasant evenings I have had. The reason of the pleasant evening was a cool, fresh gale of air that went around after a shower a dusk. I admit this isn’t the first pleasant evening of this season, perhaps the Monday made me appreciate it better than most other evenings. So otherwise in a hapless life gave me a moment to just stop worrying about the crowded train in which I was travelling.
I thought of reading a novel, finished reading Brida by Paulo Coelho three weeks back I think. Brida the story swayed from one end of pendulum to another, but with restraint and some patience I managed to finish reading it. The restraint was perhaps my own constraint simply because I often wander if some notion of a book or a novel made me thinks. However, like most people who are not so religious about reading books/novel. It was a good read.
Is life a series of serendipitous events? If everything happens by chance where does fate come in? Do we trace back everything back to fate apart from failures? I am sure of one thing that failures are stepping-stones of success. Often one is tested for patience alone. I mean you may be doing everything correct, in correct manner at the appropriate time and still may not see result in your own favour. One possible reason is to be patient.
Of course there is an argument then, how would I (read you) know? The wise in me would say that when situations progressively get tough and you are motivated to move on and face those tough times rather being held back by conscience who dissuades you and guilty takes over reason and rationale.
I don’t know what I was born to do. I don’t think I have met many people personally who understand/know quiet early what they wish to do. I am not sure whether I was born to blog, but I enjoy it thoroughly. It helped my put some sense of coherence in my life. By no means much to my own embarrassment I blog regularly. I want to, at times this is an excuse and sometimes it is the reason. However, after having blogged for a while, and posted more than few posts, including a few cricket matches, a few snaps, a few tags, I am only looking forward for more. The reason is pretty apt and clear. An avenue convinces me that I have a will and urge to write, of curse you aren’t reading a Shakespeare, but I don’t see many people lining up to read either Shakespeare or me. Logic can make that two of a kind. Then, you can go phlegmatic if not stoic about you own blog.
At times you just want to sit on the floor, layback with your arm under head, just wondering, listening to some song, or watching the clouds float by in the evening sky. I wonder if someone who conceived idea of life actually wanted things so complex, so inexplicable so hard to express and so difficult understand?