Back to the roots, a celebration.

August 19th, Sunday, 8:53 AM

( PS: Based on true events.

This whole piece was written in a drive to Abu Dhabi in a car, all handwritten. I have modified some of it a bit, but everything in this was written down in the book.

Attached at the end are the pictures of the piece I wrote in my book whilst on the drive. Do pardon me for my handwriting.

Before you all think why I chose the picture above as my feature image, it’s because I really like this picture and well it’s a celebration. I really like the song Hymn For The Weekend and it’s music video. It gave me a very good vibe just like how writing this piece did. So I felt like this captured what I felt during writing. I didn’t want to upload the classic pen and paper as my feature image, thought of doing it a different way. )

 

I have decided to go old school today. Back to the roots of writing. Back to a common man’s tool, the pen and paper.

Being so engrossed with my laptop and keyboard, I have truly forgotten how it feels to hold a pen in my hand and write what flows from my mind into a book filled with blank pages.

This idea quickly sprung upon me when my father decided to take myself and my mom to Abu Dhabi. a 2 hour drive.

Staring out to the buildings, the views of the sand and the watching the buildings rise up to the sky with the sunlight gleaming on them, looking at the whole of skyline in the comforts of my car. Looking at all those above views, I was pretty sure somewhere in my mind, I would be buzzing and itching to write something. I could have noted it all down in the notes section of my phone but I would loose the previlge of writing with a pen in my hand and I would have lost the opportunity to loose myself into the process of writing on this wonderful inspirational drive.

Before embarking on this drive, I was in the comfort of my sofa/bed watching a wonderful heartwarming movie, ” You’ve got mail.” A movie filled with simple yet charmatistic mentalities. Words, humorous personas, encounters and last but not the lease, the profounding quotes spoken by the characters. This played a role behind the inspiration today. ” To go back to the roots. ”

Now, as I am writing, I am in the comfort of the backseat of my car, writing with a pen in my book listenting to the businnes breakfast 103.8 reflecting on my surroundings and everything around me.

If this was my laptop, the grammarly softwarre embedded would have been correcting everything forcing my brain not to even apply the basic rules of grammar, spelling and work into what I write. During this process, my brain is forced but with a gentle push and nudge to apply the basic rules into what I write.

I forgot what this felt like. It is a nice yet overwheming feeling having a pen to pen down all my thoughts into a book. I still could have chosen the later option of noting it down in the notes app but why did I decide to do this? Why in the car whilst going on a drive?

Perhaps I was looking for an inspiration. Probably I needed an execuse to detach myself from my laptop. Maybe I needed this to remind this experience to remind me of the beauties and wonder of the feeling I once had, the feeling of writing using my pen and paper. It felt warm and nice to be reminded of that long last feeling and the joys that it gave me.

As I look out from the small window of the car, I see skycrapers all around me on one side and construction work on the other.  Conversations spark in the car about various topics of disucussion including myself. I sense discomfort in the air and I am quick and wise to go and seek the comfort of my penship because it feels safe.

The world and everything in it is changing.  I feel happy looking at it, my home for 18 years. Then, I feel a trail of sadness looking at it. The thought of leaving it could be the reason. The thought of leaving my family and friends upsets me, but then there is an excitement to return back but also follows the dread of leaving my mom, dad and friends behind. It’s a conflicting feeling.

Changes are different and hard to grasp and believe. Even the slightest move in my world affects me. It’s hard to describe my feelings to to change, that concept is a baffling one for me. It’s for the good and bad, like many of the other things I know. I simply cannot grasp and get hold of how I feel towards it.

To describe how I feel towards it, I have stringed down together a few words that I think could capture my views.

Like the waves of the sea behave, up and down, high and low, strong or mellow;

Like the wind, easy and breezy, cold or warm, harsh or soft, destruction or mellow;

Like that, I change my views and feels to the emodiment of change.

There is another quote as well that reflects a part of what I feel towards change. A quote from the movie You’ve got mail.

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I am glad I took upon the experience of writing this down with my pen in my book. I am happy that I was able to take a quick descison just before leaving for the drive, to take my pen and book. It felt absoultely joyous and warm to head back to the roots, where the process of writing took place.

Once in a while, I think we should all go back to the roots of writing. It gives you a nice sense of feeling.

( PS: Of course however I wish there was a machine that could just copy my writing into what I am writing right now, it’s complicated, because I kind of find it a menace to write the whole thing over in my laptop again but this was worth it. )

My mind and the thought process of it are overflowing with numerous thoughts, but for some reason, I can’t seem to write them down. The irony of it all. I have a pen, I have a book and I have the words. Then why can’t I?

I look outside, the commentary in the radio is interesting but I want my eyes and brain to rest for a while. I look outside and I can myself drown in the drowsiness of my weary and tired self.

I feel like a writer now. A writer in search for words and stories. A writer in touch and connect with one’s self. A writer with a mind keen to write.

This feels like something out of the movies. A movie where a lost writer goes out to a new place in search for inspiration and stories to write or is in search for his lost identitiy or set on a path to discover something.

I am starring in that movie right now, my own life, a movie, but I don’t know what I am searching for. I am on a car ride going to a place, far away from where I live. I am in a car simply enjoying what I am doing right now, writing with a pen in the paper.

Farewell for now.

 

( As promised, here lies the pictures of the piece in the book I have wrote.)

 

Confessions

Writing, a skill everyone has, but very few people in this world have the power to create an impact or an effect with those words.

I know quite a lot of people who have that spark to create a profounding meaningful impact, and sometimes I often wonder whether I have been given that or whether am I any good at it.

Have I or Can I ever impact anyone with my words? Do they like reading what I write? If not, then how can I impact them? But then, I am happy with what I write. Questions like these roam and buzz around my mind.

I write a lot, a lot of unpublished ones pile up like a pile of lego blocks reaching up towards the sky. Many thoughts protrude in my head and each piece arises from a thought or a feeling.

I have been writing for quite some time, especially on my Instagram, but for a few months, it has come to a halt.

Why did I stop?

Maybe it was the lack of appreciation or feedback, or maybe the undying thought of me not being good enough when compared to others, or maybe I lost my passion, or I simply didn’t have anything to write on.

I have been a person who tends to thrive on compliments and feedback, so when that stopped or started becoming less, I guess somewhere I just lost my passion to post about what I write. I know that this a wrong reason and I want to deny it.

Also somewhere along the lines, I simply lost the zest and zeal to come up with anything new to write.

I started this blog of mine because now, I don’t mind or at least I think I don’t. I am trying not to mind. It’s going well but it’s hard.

It’s been quite some time with this blog now, it’s still a new creation under works. I am proud of it. A platform where I can truly share.

Selfish desires do exisit in me.

As a writer, a part of me would always wish and aspire for people to like what I write. As a writer, I wish my pieces would become worthy of being published somewhere. As a writer and sole creator of this blog, I wish for it to become popular and create buzz around. As a writer, I wish I could do this for a living. But most out of all, As a writer, I wish for my pieces to make people feel emotions and feelings. 

I have a wish, to publish a book about different thoughts, feelings, stories, moments and experiences. If at least one person can understand, relate to it, feel something out of it, my job is done and it’s also an added bonus. 

Keeping the selfih desires ahead, I write because I love to do it. It’s my source of escape and expression. This makes my selfish desires fade away into nothingess,  but once in a bluemoon, those wishes do arise. 

When I feel demotivated or less enthusiastic, I go back to the posts I wrote, read them and the comments underneath. The comments did cheer me up, but it reminded of why I wrote.

I wrote because I loved to write and through writing, I finally found a way to place all my thoughts, actions and feelings into words.

Also somewhere in the corner of the world, if it at least makes one person happy or if they can relate to it, my task is done and as an added bonus, my happiness can also break out of its cocoon and have its time in the gleaming sunlight.

Writing has always been my comfort blanket, and I shouldn’t stop because of any of those reasons.

Many tiny reasons other than that also lie beneath this mess. I often become quite lazy as well to post over here as well on Instagram.

Like I said, many drafts lay upon me, but when it comes to publishing it, a cloud of overwhelming doubt and laziness engulf me, but I am not giving up. I won’t give up.

I feel doubtful and scared because at times, with some of the content I put up, I feel it reveals a bit too much of me or maybe the things I write could hurt some people knowingly and unknowingly.

It’s the latter reason I worry about more because I wouldn’t want to upset people but what is life without that?

This blog defines a part of who I am and I won’t let that definition fade away. I hope and pray that this enthusiasm and this definition never die in me.

I await eagerly to write and write about many things. I eagerly await for it to get published for the world to read. I eagerly await for the response. This whole process is so intoxciating and exhilarating.

I hope this excitement never fades away. I hope everything what I feel about my blog never fades away into nothingess.