A few days ago while scrolling through my blog, to my pleasant surprise; I found a notification announcing the first anniversary of my blog. It was then, that I realized it was a pretty long time since I scribbled down my weird thoughts.
Well honestly, not attempting to jot down my feelings did make me insane quite a lot of times. My uncanny behavior indirectly affected my dear family. I become helpless. My thoughts wreck my whole Self. I go through terrible moments. What’s happening? I have no idea. But I know one thing, I must write, write and write. The pleasure I get is incomparable to any other kinds of entertainment. However, the late realization was that my mood swung very often and that I was seriously nonsensical, helped me to understand that I needed to work on it. Directing my energy to something beneficial was what I needed to do. Attempting to write was the only cure I had. And quoting one of my favorite authors; ” …writing-if you’re happy with it-undoes all sorrows”.
I think I must share what the major reason for the procrastination was. It was my preparation to move, after almost living 17 years in a rented apartment, to my new “own” home. The only advantage of this “own” home was that no one would kick us out. No obligations. No set of rules. Setting one’s own home, I know, is an achievement materialistically. The happiness seemed no bounds but I must confess it is a momentary one. I had to sacrifice much of my time, my reading hours, my sleep due to the unwanted anxiety; my office work which went topsy-turvy- all of these to supervise the workers so that they complete the home before the set deadline. As I was more adamant on not crossing the budget allocated to the interior of my new home I stressed myself more. I learnt many things about construction, about the art & architecture etc. With much hope we look out for some creative ideas, the kind of ideas that can save a penny. But on the contrary most of the interior designers only give you a shocking reality – the huge amount of money to be spent to make a “home”. I had no choice but to cut down the luxuries one by one. A big No here, and a big No there! I learnt the bitter reality – How one can make millions with just a few pieces of “art work” fixed on the floors and the walls. I finally decided to move in without much hullabaloo, without completely finishing the interior part, and gladly dived into my escape: the cloud I called ’literature’.