Writing is so cathartic. It is such a creative pursuit. It brings out your innermost emotions, throws them down on paper or screen of an electronic device, morphed into something unrecognisable at times, but making sense to the people who consume this art form.
Writing is the best form of self expression for me; I may be a wordsmith. Even then, I cannot say that I have been writing for as long as I remember. But I can say that for reading. Yes, I have been reading ever since I learnt the alphabet, which of course was when I was but a toddler. At perhaps 5 years of age, I could read three languages. Although I went on to become really proficient in only one-and that serves my purpose quite well, I can still identify with languages.
I worship the written word- and printed, of course. I still love etymology, the nuances of a language, the layers inherent in dialects, words, just words. A well written piece for me is something that has words conveying exactly what needs to be said, without meandering and a seamless flow of thought. As a child, I would read and re-read passages written by the masters to understand their thought process and logic. Why one sentence led to the other? How one paragraph preceded this one? How ideas flowed from one to the other?
Recently, when my local library closed for a few days, I was distraught. There is so much more available to read but I could not bear the thought of not visiting this room full of shelves and shelves of books. It was my weekly fix. I tried to write instead, to take the edge off the waiting for it to reopen but nothing compares to flipping yellowing pages, musty smelling and crinkly to touch.
Reading, reading and reading. Any day over writing!
I love to write.
I want to write for an audience to build my confidence and discipline.
I want to learn to navigate the blogosphere.
I want to learn to create a website and the mechanics of an online presence.
I stay sane by expressing myself.
Writing for my blog is my ‘me’ time and creative effort rolled into one.
I feel productive.
I feel appreciated when all those likes and comments roll in.
I feel motivated to improve when I see better writing.
I get to read the most amazing blogs with very different viewpoints from very far flung places even, not to mention the super talented people behind these blogs.
I feel I have a lot of friends online.
My online successes spur me on to higher dreams. ‘If I could do this, I sure can accomplish more’.
“My salad days. When I was green in judgement: cold in blood.” Said Cleopatra, the words put in her mouth by the bard Shakespeare.
In language, the phrase denotes a time of youthfulness, inexperience and innocence, enthusiasm or even idealism.
So, I thought hard about my own salad days. When was it all? Youth, ages ago, for sure. But as they say, age is just a number and you are as old as you think. I decide to think and act young at all times. Change Facebook status frequently. Upload selfies…
Wait a minute! I am an idealist even now. I believe in equality across socioeconomic backgrounds. I believe in gender equality. I believe in education for all. I believe in…sufficient to say I still believe in lofty ideals and work towards doing my bit. The only difference from my twenties would be a better awareness of reality and of life’s problems.
Enthusiasm, yes! Four months back, I discovered WordPress and was absolutely struck by the ease of creating a platform online. It had been a decade since I had actively done anything related to hardware or software. I was surprised that I did not have to know HTML or write code to create a presence. Leaning how to put up a blog was a Great learning experience that has been an incredible high. Now that I feel settled down in WordPress, I am thirsting for newer challenges.
My inexperience in many many spheres of life make these my best salad days. ‘Green in judgement’, of course I am. I even get the weather talk wrong. Just this morning, I chatted idly with my jumper-knitting, shawl-wrapped neighbour (oldish, in other words, which I am not!) And remarked how the cold weather had been late in arriving this year. To which I was served with a sermon on a dry spell vs rains; the importance of having an early snow and how the local forecast had been calling it the severest winter in a decade.
Innocence! I am nothing if not innocent. Who else would put in a picture of a salad platter in a post for salad days!