The frost, it sometimes makes the blade stick.
- Maximus, Gladiator
The best thing to do when you feel like writing is to write. How much I hate thinking that it's naive to start a post saying I haven't been writing much, I cannot deny the warmth in beginning by saying it. I have repeatedly absorbed myself into reasons why I need to write and perhaps even mentioned on this blog a few times. I do not intend to go into any reasons today. I would rather type what comes or tries to come out and sign out after publishing it. I don't want to think about anybody thinking about whom might alter my willingness to writing a thing here. Though I understand I can't help with my subconsciousness unless I spend time on each of my sentences and contemplate if they have been effected or if they seem affected.
It's not easy to decide if a thing mentioned is straight truth or manages to go above or below it. I can only have something in my mind and make a person reading the resultant words of it perhaps think something else. I want to stay away from what others' thoughts might stray into. It's delicate not to transgress into exaggerations yet bluntly easy not to lie. Unintentionally I might take a reader for a ride but it's very being of unintended action comes from the idea that I prefer not letting anybody getting into what I am writing. Lately I have been trying to use a simpler vocabulary. Having a good one only means that I am able to convey what exactly I want to convey. But only if I wish to convey it.
I don't find sleep for long enough these days. I am probably staying awake for 18 hours a day and the rest six are spent in two to three sleeping sessions which not usually are continuous. I don't feel deficiency in sleep in my eyes but in my back that aches frequently. I take an hour's nap and feel like I have had a good rest, like I am fresh for the rest of the day and I can concentrate of anything. It takes a couple of hours to put me to sleep again as if I haven't slept for hours. Not to mention the strange stiffness in my neck and it's movements. I guess I realize more discomfort as I write this. Staying busy should make me forget a big chunk of these.
I have spent last three days in near seclusion except for the few hours in the evenings I am with a friend in his house. We are cooking at his place for dinner and I get back to my apartment with nobody around. For years I have always dreaded staying alone in a place away from my parents. I have seen many such dreaded things come true and there have been quite a few that didn't Alhamdulillah. As I see some big days coming ahead for me, I don't know how exactly they are going to cause to effect my life. The realization ranges between compulsion and hope. Not to forget the guilt, dissatisfaction, feeling of defeat and hopelessness. What should have been pride, joy and security have been proven otherwise.
The best is that I cannot complain. Allah has made me a very blessed one of His slaves and I could never thank Him enough. The compelling change is not always harsh. It gets a little oily on occasions. I don't recognize some things that I see sprouting within me. It's a sign of perhaps hopelessness or inability when a description takes the form "some things". I like having them elaborated. The problem starts when I cannot. It needs to be broken down - broken down not into a puzzle but into identifiable pieces that cautiously explain the whole. Identification is necessary for a solution to be obtained - at least it seems like necessary. Everything is always left to Allah. I can only try to identify.
Answering a friend few years back if I had anything I would like to go back and change, I had thought for a while and replied in negation. Just around the curb something seemed like a big deviation, if I can correctly describe it that way, and if posed with the same question, I might not have a straight single-word answer. One of the good things about blogs and the Internet in general is that you don't have algorithms asking you why you have written so and so in your blog. It's the people who question. Being questioned could be flattery, a show of genuine concern or at times a judging process. I am not a genius who can put into words what exactly I have in my mind. I might as well forget why I had to write something I did. I won't question myself unless I expect the answers to help me.
When I look at the date it seems odd and heavy - 2011. It's one zero less than what we have been seeing for a decade. Even the 23 seems big - perhaps bigger than the 28 that can be reached in the small two of 2011. February always sounds light - lighter than May - even though it has too many dates in it which I cannot forget. The dates are in fact not too many, they just left with too much to ask for. Yet February sounds easy and nice - probably because of what the asking could have yielded. March is bold - reminds me of the day my brother was born. Emptiness is not always because of too much space. It's some times because of lack of it. Just like you can't breath properly if you don't have enough space in your lungs. Allah is more glorious that one can think of.
