You asked me for a piece of my writings, I told you I haven’t been writing anything except boring reports and mails, it’s the half truth.
The full honesty is that I’ve been writing a lot. I’ve been scribbling down impulsively half developed poems, a general novel concept, some bright idea, some random quote that pops in my mind, I’ve been scribbling them down in my notebook.
But when you asked to see any of them, it ruffled me for many reasons. Apart from the fact that they’re embryos of words not ready to be birthed yet and the fact that I’m writing more for myself lately, I was also afraid that I may feed your mind what may poison it, for my writings have been accused of being “too much.” A phrase I interpret that my line of words are unusual and my expression outrageous. Let me tell you I find so much amusement in the way I rile people up with words. It’s magical.
But your request also got me wondering of course, as might be expected- what’s the hunger you suddenly feel that drove you to look for my writings?
I thought it maybe boredom, if it is then I’m writing this strings of jargons to help you while away wondrous time. Consider this an attempt to amuse you, I hope I succeed.
But then, I detected a tinge of something more than boredom. Maybe I’m mistaken, I am speculating I’ve detected a tinge of hopelessness, Dare I say an emptiness birthed by a dying passion. A lack of inspiration.
I recognize this. It’s a very familiar feeling my girl.
I imagine it like a dying ember, it feels like when the firewood in our mother’s tripods burned and turned to ashes without cooking the meal.
Are you nodding in relation or are you curious because it’s unfamiliar?
Either ways I’ll continue.
You see, if there’s anything our mother’s tripods should teach us is hope.
You probably had days in your childhood when due to some circumstances dinner wasn’t served in time. Those nights when the children are crying but the mother is in the kitchen sweating, no matter how late, she won’t let the children sleep without eating.
Passion is like that, it’s the firewood in the burning tripod, yes it burns out. Yes sometimes it’s hard to ignite, yes sometimes it’s just a faint red coal refusing to burn and you have to fan it tediously. But there’s always hope.
Hope that it’s still there, hope that you’re not going to sleep starving.
If I am right, you are looking for my piece to help you rekindle that fire.
I am honored if that’s the case, that you find me inspiring.
If you seek my writing to eliminate boredom, then by all means be amused. If you seek my writing to rekindle inspiration, then here’s my stone, strike your metal let’s ignite a spark.
I will further talk to you about passion, about hope and it’s lessness, about growth; it’s turbulence and choas.
You see, I was talking to a girl earlier on SC, she was considering dropping out of med school. I talked her out of it (I’d like to believe) I just merely reassured her really.
She’s doing it without passion, And finds the studies depressing. Her parent’s imposed it on her and I just told her that it’s because they believe she can do it. And even though I just knew about her existence this very night, I told her I also believe she can do it.
It’s not a sugar coated motivation, its the truth. I believe humans have the resilient strength to adapt to anything and pull through any difficulty.
It’s just that we get really really tiresome days when we feel like we are burned out and we desperately want to succumb. And on those days we look wildly for any pillar that could keep us standing. If I am chanced to be one more pillar a girl can hold on to, then I have lived a great honor.
And more satisfying it would be if I showed more girls how to be pillars to more girls too. So I’m personally pleading with you to be a pillar. You already are part of my support system, so continue being amazing.
Yes I’m biased, Rebecca Michealson taught me that us girls gotta stick with each other because it’s harder for us, so TeamGirls anytime, anyday. ;)
You may need to have an orderly stringing of all these my rumblings at this point.
The tapestry I want to weave is that I believe in you.
Heck. the whole universe believes in you.
So go set forthe and madly do what you want to do, be consumed by your passion and let your doubts burn down first.
You haven’t been writing for a while, I noticed. I wanted to ask you and Tahira Why and tell you girls I miss your writings.
It gave me more of a competitive edge than inspiration actually. And yet I badly miss the days we were consumed by the madness of writing. Remember the poetry group you created? It was brilliant and I still revere you for that.
We weren’t good in writing then, we never thought we could be. But we wrote because we felt it’s important that we do. We couldn’t not write.
How did the madness healed? By conforming, by doubts, by fear.
I can’t say I conquered mine, but at least I’m still burning.
I don’t know which is yours, But I’ll tell you something: You matter.
It can get overwhelming fitting into this chaotic world. As you grow up you feel like you’re losing your footing, you get put out of place by all the people on the stampede.
You may lose your ground and lose who you once were, but you have a lifetime to find it again. Find yourself over and over again.
One beautiful thing about identity is that you can recreate it again and again. You own it.
Decide who you are, who you want to be, reshuffle your cards girl.
And if you like your old identity that’s even better, resume what you used to do. Fall back into your old habits. You get the reigns of this ride girl. Have a blast!
My phone is lagging from overuse, let me cut it short here.
I am currently reading Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead. I highly recommend.
What’s your current read? Go update that thread of the books you’ve read.
