Or One

Beating the dusty carpet

I am planning to write for a month from 12-1 every night, to get into the habit of writing. Just like at this moment, there would be moments where I would be at a complete loss to come up with anything remotely substantial or beautiful. Since I still want to publish these as a marker of my progress, I would clump them in the category: Garbage.

All this lack is not for lack of thought, distress, or discomfort. It is because I have been procrastinating, not only the things that I need to do, but also the things that I need to think. It is a mental lethargy, driven mainly by a fear of encountering a truth I might not be ready for, I assume. But this is no way to deal with a phobia, this is just avoidance behavior that lends to merely aggravate the phobia. I have to slowly familiarize myself with my fears, talk to them, talk about them (to myself of course), understand them and then either weed them out, or learn to live well with them.

We all suffer from these cycles of self-assessment, during which our self-worth is either way exaggerated, or completely marginalized. I aim to get out of this endless repetition, stop thinking of what I am worth, for it leads to nothing but misery and wasted time, and involve myself in either a fulfilling hedonism, or an equally fulfilling process of learning and creation. This is not to say that I would stop analyzing my actions or my existence and its relation to and place in the world around it, but that I would not bother to give myself a score based on this analysis. It would be an essay, with an enormous amount of editing, devoid of any assessment of the essay itself. A critical reconciliation of sorts, with ample scope for change.

Once this is achieved, or is being achieved, I believe the other forestalled items on my to-do list will start to begin and, hopefully, end.

I do feel slightly sad at finding myself at a loss of words with plenty time to spare, like a promising date with a girl that ends up in a dejected silence because you have run out of things to say and she is not bothered enough to engage.

But never mind! There are plenty of girls in the world. The next date will be great: it will have a genuine conversation, an unspoken but unmistakable romance, casual laughs, and that glorious feeling when you are sure the conversation didn’t start that night, that it had always been there, beginning again from where you left it.