The cursor blinked at the over the Title heading. A couple of names did manage to conquer the Title but the backspace always won the battle. The game of cat and mouse, perhaps. Or perhaps life itself. What do we know about life anyway? How many of us want to be born with what we now know? How many of us are truly content with the idea of life? What is it anyway that every third person in a group of two say that their life sucks. “How are you doing?”, asked a familiar voice, I mean the text on the chat screen. Because we  no longer meet people outside the purview of the social capsule. May be it’s just me. I don’t have much friends. I have watched one movie per week this whole year, more or less. So, on an average I have watched 30 movies so far with my friends, ofcourse. Meet ak and ʞɐ. What? It’s just my initials normal and upside down? Well, that’s where you are wrong. Both are completely two different people. I am afraid they both are coming to same thought process these days. What disaster that would be, right?

“When some of the people  have been able to blog for a lot longer than the two of us, then definitely that someone can write” was a comment from a friend. This hit me hard, like that expected-ly unexpected blow, as if I was waiting for the punch but I had no ideawhere it came from. So, that happened. I had been writing for over seven years, which doesn’t mean I accomplished something great over there. Neither does it mean that I am an expert at things,  especially something like writing. I am still at the same standard as I was a decade ago. Let me give a little insight on why I came up with writing in the first place.

The summer sun was scorching hot and I was new to Facebook at that time, as like everyone else. Orkut was kind of famous with the scraps and something like that. THen I came across a link by one of my cousin, who happens to be pretty good at most things, I mean everything, writing included. I literally had to get a dictionary to get some of the words. As a matter of fact, I even bought a notebook just for the words my cousin had amassed in all his posts. Each post had a better word. But then it clicked in me that if I start writing, may be I could get better at this. After all, it’s not rocket science. It took me quite a long time to realize that it was indeed Rocket Science. What? What’s with the weird look that you are giving me? What has science anything to do with writing, or as for that even rocket might be your question. That was the feeling I got while I was writing. It looked easy, just like how easily we tell that it’s not rocket science. What the hell do we know about Rocket Science. May be it’s even simpler. It’s just numbers and calculations and every mathematical problem has a solution. English on the other hand, doesn’t. So, if you think writing was easy, it isn’t. I know, because over the past several years of writing and contemplating, I have figured some things. I have discovered reading novels, which I have never done before, because I believed novels gave me a different perspective to help me in writing. I didn’t become a bibliophile for the love of reading, I did that for writing, which took a new turn, which is another story. I know because as much as I loved writing, putting ink on paper and writing letters to God and whom not, sometimes the ink gets dry and no matter how much you force the pen to write, it just won’t work.

I still don’t make sense. And to the person who said the aforementioned “piece of gutting & smack in the face statement“, I will repeat what I said to you in the first place which you ignored nonetheless – “Not all are expert writers like yourself. “

This brings to the most concerning question : Why am I not writing? Couple of reasons :

1. Displaced – I am not in the right mind. I am not supposed to have a lot of things in mind, but I have. Be it rocket science, ahem, or say life, job, relationship, sex, friends, blog, photography, travel, bills, and all that jazz.
2. Locked up – “Make writing great again” was the T-Shirt motto I got printed, but the size wasn’t right. So, I locked it up in the cupboard to be forgotten along with the rest of the hundred T-shirts.
3. Distractions. Enough said. You name it, I got it.
4. Misplaced – I have forgotten how to write. I have always written about me, things centering me. I have avoided sharing too much, but I have slipped a  couple of times. Nonethelesss, I used to write, however nonsense it was, even if no one gave a shit. Now, I want someone to give a shit. I seriously have no idea why I want that, that attention. I have no idea why I want people to notice and yet I refrain from sharing and making too much noise. I prefer it quite, but powerful. I know stupid since it’s lost in the web of world wide web and no one cares about my eeny-miny thing that I thought was great.
5. This brings me to the quote “Do it for joy and you can do it forever”- Stephen King. I am a Stephen King fan, but this quote is still great.