Still Here? How?

-

Photo by William Isted on Unsplash

I wanna say I had a productive social media cleanse, but considering it was punctuated by horrifying real life situations, I'm not so sure it comes out to a net win.
I'm trying to implement several things, but they all come down to the same thing - consistently doing something every day. Ah, my Kryptonite, my Achilles' heel, my 4 am sleep deprived tendency to go down internet rabbit holes.

When I look back at 4 years ago, or 10 years ago, I'm struck my how much has changed, and also by doubt that not enough has changed. Do I still blog the same way? Aren't I still writing stuff I may never finish? Isn't my voice still too immature? 

 New doubts also find their way in, but for some strange reason, they mostly have to do with my haircut. I know I had to cut it that short - I was going through a phase of self-loathing that extended to my irredeemably damaged hair. I know I told myself I was going to make more of an effort to look nicer. But November has knocked me down, and I am yet to recover.

Along with damaged hair, I have now accumulated another pet peeve - the sensation of hormones sloshing around in my head. What I mean is any sort of situation where I experience heightened emotions - anger, despair, fear, whatever. I dislike it. It's like sometimes I can hear the yelling long after it has died down.

How do you leech emotions out of your brain and throw them away? After almost 2 years of working on it, I have come to the conclusion that it can be achieved only part of the time, and that too by shutting off my feelings.

Came across a tweet on the murderous George Zimmerman's latest stunt today:

https://twitter.com/eugenegu/status/1202294025245491202

And the sad part is, it doesn't make my unsurprised blood boil, it makes my blood tired. These terrible trash scum will take an example of a somewhat effective movement that managed to raise some awareness, and try to publicize it as proof that the oppressed have finally begun to oppress them. tHE PRobLeM oF rACisM is SOLVED. We can all go home and sleep in peace. 


Comments

Post a Comment

Leave an opinion!

Popular posts from this blog

Throwback: Waltzing to the Tune of Rhetoric

-
Written September 7, 2010 A dark series of squiggles make their way down and across the page, in that order. Cheap poetry and lame jokes are the order of the day. For once the silence has retreated and is content to watch from the top row of the bleachers. For once there's no raining on the court while the ball's in play. There's a rose that lies at the back of my locker, wilted and fading away. It's a rose I don't expect to see in bloom again. It's a rose I've put aside, but one I cannot bear to throw away. Perhaps I should consign it to the bonfire I've made in my backyard, out of all the relics from the past. Perhaps keeping it in my locker is dangerous, for it might bloom again. Roses such as this one have been known to bloom more beautiful than before, long long after they withered away into nothing more than thin brown sticks and faded and detached petals. And in my excitement, I might just reach out and grab it again, forgetting th
Read more

Sweet Summer Child: A Love Letter

-
Image
Photo by  Petr Ovralov  on  Unsplash Written December 9, 2016 I am not a gifting person. Years ago, someone suggested I write them something about love as a gift instead. I made many starts, completed nothing. Perhaps happiness doesn't inspire me the way sorrow does. Then last year came the first and only love letter I've ever written. Does it mean more if you write letters? May I? Dearest. When I met you, the only taste I remembered any more was the taste of ashes in my mouth. When I met you, the sun had cracked open, and loss was everywhere.  When I met you, you were a shadow, hidden among shadows, a nervous joke whispered on the winds of my thoughts.  When I met you, I was looking for a friend.  Then I met you, and the sun rose again, whole and healthier than before.  I met you, and the joke turned to undying laughter on my lips.  I met you, and I knew longing again, my soul unable to bear its weight.  I did not know you existed, and in the wee hours o
Read more

Review: Vampire Academy #2 - Frostbite

-
Image
Crossposting from Feminist Quill, written July 22, 2015 Book Title:  Frostbite Author:  Richelle Mead Year of Publication:  2008 Series:  Vampire Academy #:  2 Goodreads Rating (Avg.):  4.31 Goodreads Rating (Mine):  5 Plot Description:  The sequel to  Vampire Academy  picks up a few months after the first, showing a new stage in Rose's guardian training. Running away from the school for two years had meant that she spent the first book trying to catch up with her classmates, and  Frostbite  opens with her Qualifier exam - one which requires an external guardian to evaluate her progress. As her mentor, it seems Dimitri was able to get her an interview with one of the most legendary guardians around, and as a bonus, this means Rose gets to roadtrip alone with her crush. Her cute triumph at having scored ten hours of being alone with him soon dovetails neatly with tragedy - a Strigoi attack at their destination. And with that, Mead begins to unravel the clean cut rul
Read more