If I had to write a blog-post perfectly… I’d simply not blog at all.
– someone else probably said it first, but… (Ramisa Raya, 2016)
How many incomplete, scrapped first-drafts do I have buried in my dashboard? How many blog-posts end with”Hello I am–” [DELETE]? While these are rhetorical questions… if your answer is “Too many for comfort,” please kindly give yourself a gold-star. Continue reading →
Simply Sunday is a reading meme run here at Books for a Delicate Eternity. It’s where you can share your favourite quote of the week; be it from a book, a novella, a short story, a poem, a song – whatever you like!
When I first read Mitch Albom’s memoir, Tuesdays with Morrie, I fell in love with its profound words of wisdom. However, I never quite understood it; back in eighth grade, it was a collection of inspirational words –that is all. Three years later, I encounter these same words with new experiences, new perception and understanding. Now, I understand the importance of these words and life lessons.
If you hold back on the emotions–if you don’t allow yourself to go all the way through them–you can never get to being detached, you’re too busy being afraid. You’re afraid of the pain, you’re afraid of the grief. You’re afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely.
This morning, a glorious fun-filled Saturday beginning with a hint of oversleeping and a dash of pure bliss, I woke up. And because my mouth was feeling dry (had the heater all throughout the night) the first thing I did was wash my mouth out.
After a couple of gurgles, I saw my reflection and was shocked.
Note: This post was originally supposed to be published a long time ago (11/3/2013 to be exact) but my excitement still hasn’t changed. I just didn’t have time to keep writing this post, so here it is, completely delayed!
Stuck in a fever for four days and sleeping in between, I woke up with that groggy feeling. You know, when you just feel sore and unaccomplished and wonder, “Is this what my life has resorted to?” as you take more doses of paracetamol.
To top things off, I had to go to the hospital yesterday ’cause of a coughing fit. It was monstrous, sitting in the waiting room for at least an hour, coughing without a pause. And having practically a box of tissues in the other hand.
The most happiest day of my life? When I received a proof-copy of my third novel via CreateSpace. I didn’t cry –I’ve never cried tears of joy– but I felt close to tears.
Looking back, it wasn’t that great. It was back when I wrote lengthy, hard-to-understand sentences, awful two-dimensional characters and had no sort of outline to guide me through a clear, concise part for the reader to follow.
But you know what? I was happy. I was so, so, so happy. If there’s one thing I have worked hard in my life for, more than anything else, it’s writing. And I’ve realised that I never quite explained my journey through the written word.
From the smallest thing in the world (such as accidentally dropping your pencil and having to pick it up) or to more serious, cruel subjects (getting your legs chopped off, people you know dying) your life continues.
It may hurt. Sometimes more than ever, or maybe just a little pang at your chest which’ll then fail to exist. But here’s the thing: your life will go on. You will have to tolerate it. So, instead of letting that moment of weakness ruin more of you.
People get sick; they grieve, endure, hurt, envy and everything else negative in an unwritten book. And if you happen to be a person who’s already died, then may you rest in peace.