The Non-Facebook Post #6

This calm, peaceful Saturday morning brings me a sombre mood and answers and revelations. What can heal a broken heart? Hurt. "If you don't let it hurt, how will it heal?" This line is also from Natasha Badhwar, one of my biggest thought influencers.
Also, you know you've finally made the transition from being a tropical girl to a temperate-zoned person when you feel like Spring in thirty-one degree Fahrenheit temperatures and saunter outside boldly without your gloves and usual winter paraphernalia (and even manage to drive your car without turning on the heat, even if it was for just a quarter mile). The once bland foods of the land you now call home begin to taste delicious. You finally understand the agony of a person who chokes on flaming-spice food, the 'pachadi' from your homeland is way too hot for your now continental palette.
Badhwar also said the key to writing is to "imagine all the people who think your writing sucks" and then write with the realization that they are "not reading you."
And this here post is another example of my rambling thoughts. But it floats my boat, so hey.

The Non-Facebook Post #5

'Dehleez pe mere dil ki, jo rakhe hai tune kadam...
...aasmaan mila zameen ko meri...'

The Non-Facebook Post #4

"Writing has created a space for me to express innocence. No other world has any use for it."  - Natasha Badhwar.
And so, here I am, writing, rambling, wandering through a hundred thousand thoughts that fill my mind and create a joyous bustling cacophony, exploring and sorting through them, and understanding myself better.
At the moment I'm reading Kerouac. He says a writer should imitate the writing style of the greats until he growns into his own. This phase of my writing has a definite Kerouac influence - galloping from word to word, thought to thought, in long-winded sentences.
It's also a life-phase where, like him, I'm "thrashing in a thousand twenty-one-year-old agonies" not "at the horror of this world" but at the rejections and disenchantments of my life. Precious trifle compared to him, and yes, twenty one years in age too. No matter if numerical ages match here. My mind, and the life experiences I'm having, are all of twenty one.
Sauntering farther in my field of thoughts, Kerouac lampoons that one cannot just run off a broken leg to have it heal. Well, maybe you can't just unbreak a heart too.
This, all of this, sets the tone of this period of my life. But here's another wonderful line by a poet that Badhwar quoted recently - "Be joyful, though you have considered the facts." An apt closing.

The Non-Facebook Post #3

Every evening comes to you painted in a new colour, a new tone.

This evening, you catch glimpses of golden-orange luminescence through glass doors, hitting the rust-brick building far ahead; a light yellow and pale blue-gray sky peeks through a jungle of bare tree branches, fragmented; a soft twilight drops down from the skies meeting a warm orange glow of the setting sun lifting up from the earth. Mixing with it all are streetlamps and car lights - that heady mix of dusk and light heralding bright thoughts, calling you back to your dreams.  

The Non-Facebook Post #2

Binary is base two and decimal is base ten in place value.
Bam! Eureka, and the fog clears!

The Non-Facebook Post #1

Sticking to deadlines made by others is tough. Abiding by deadlines you make for yourself is the toughest.

The 'non-Facebook updates' blog posts

Turns out I wade a little longer in that murky pool that resides between academic life and professional-career life. I linger on mid-ground, having left the bank on the school-student side, a bit emotional, a bit reluctant, to cut the umbilical cord and let go to reach the other bank. And here's also my delving into a Kerouac-style memoir writing, like the Vanity of Duluoz, but at an age far younger than his. But pah, what is age if just another metric, and it's how you choose to define that metric. So, our numerical ages may not be the same, but I'm at the same age and place, in my mind, that he was at. Wait, go back, clutch that thread of thought or put it down in concrete writing here before it vanishes in a puff of forgetfulness, Dumbledore's silver thread strands stored in that glittery thought pool.
Why is it so hard for me to transition from one life phase to the other? Someone summed this up succinctly on a social media post - 'it's because leaving a life phase means having to say goodbye. Goodbye to not only the people and the places that were a part of your life but also saying goodbye to a part of you - that person that you are at this point in your life.' Because you get attached, and nostalgic. And the emptiness that you see coming, from letting go, seems irreplaceable and 'unfillable'. Or so it seems at the time.
There's a whole lot of wisdom out there on letting go, to make room for new and wonderful experiences to walk in. I think everyone lets go in due time - in good time. Yeah, it took me longer, but I feel like I'm ready. I'm ready to step into the new world opening up ahead of me.