No one knows what makes your mind tick.. When you hear someone say something; read something in the morning newspaper; the bitterness of your morning coffee gets you thinking about bitter other-some-things.
We all know that any sort of ‘ticking’ must have some emotion in the back of it all, which makes the ‘ticking’ longer and inspires an action, or feeling, from us.. That we may, or may not be proud of (but that’s another thing).
I have no idea what the scientific research on this says, but for me, its probably powered by emotions. For example, if I see someone fighting for a good cause, I’d feel happy, proud and get inspired to do something like that or at least take some action in support to that.
Getting ‘ticked’ (in a positive way) is always healthy, and oh-so-important for a human to grow. If a human being isn’t inspired by a certain-something, how will we ever do things and become the people we’re supposed to become? Even if, say, one’s forced to study or not to lie, would that change the person inside? Maybe, a little. But even that’d be a short term change, and very superficial. In order for a human to grow truly, and from within, one needs to be inspired by something.. And that’ll only happen when something/someone ticks the inspiration button on.
There’s something about public interaction/confrontation/appearance that creeps the shyer one’s out of social hangings. Maybe it’s just, maybe it isn’t.
In the past few days I have been giving a go at writing. Even though I have been writing for a long while, although not on a regular basis, I never was confident in my writing, or my mental capability to do so. Recently though, I decided that it was important that I gave it a go and not worry about the outcome initially.. Because how will you know if you’re good, or bad, at something when you don’t take it seriously and test yourself out?
I always knew, deep in my gut, that I was never meant to be a diarist. You see, you need some kind of constant factor within yourself to be entertaining while at it. Even though I believe that everyone’s life is unique and worth even writing about.. Mine may not be all that charming written in cold, hard text – even if I’m the only one who thinks that, you always need it inside you to do something in order to be successful at it.
To be a diarist, I think, you need to be a solid person from within, who’s a firm believer in what he believes in, and knows exactly how he feels about things (like my younger sister). I, on the other hand, am not at all that. I’d rather change all the time with no past records to prove that I have.. Experiment, even if it may be risky at times. There’s always a better opportunity in bold letters waiting for your attention, approval and action upon it. ‘Tis only the human brain that skips that, and goes instead to write his ego across the country in bold letters to have some sort of significance, deeper, and in many ways, better than others.
I really don’t know why I cannot write posts that are much more entertaining, although they can be superficial and need little/no brains to muscle out concepts and ideas and perceptions through its lovely being. I wouldn’t say I was being arrogant.. Just that this is the sad truth that I have to live with and also, by. I’d rather that some lazy day I sit under the three with a diary in hand and writing all that has happened throughout the day.. But that doesn’t happen does it? Firstly because I don’t have many problems (thank God for that), secondly, I love life and refuse to be depressed/upset during it.. Even for a couple of hours.. Just doesn’t happen. So, instead I start writing about the reason behind any good/bad thing that has happened through the day and forget about the hurt and upsetting situation in a jiffy. Leaving me with no violent emotion.. And without that, how can I ever become a good diarist?
A meow awakens me each morning followed by, the cutest thing cats do, the pressing of one paw at a time on my back. Forcing my head from under the quilt, just to give Cherie the okay signal with a look, I see the most prettiest face on earth (at least to me) and I am taken over with emotion, and of course everyone knows what happens after that.
After that, breakfast comes along with the blessings of a heater (which people in villages cannot enjoy; I would know). I cant describe how wonderful it feels when an external things warms one up, I don’t take it as a do-it-yourself sort of thing, should be understood that external things are supposed to warm a human up.
Anyway, all these small things and, of course, the realisation of their existence, make my day so much more worth being in and a part of. Which leads me to thinking of people taking their days for granted (wont even mention the people who don’t have anything to take granted for, that’s a whole new chapter). How sad are they? I mean, you need to be completely dead from within to be not effected by all the small things that enrich our days and make them different from the previous, even if it is slightly. I may have been exaggerating slightly in the previous sentence, but it has to be somewhat true. You need to be completely self centred to not be able to see that. Of course, there’s a very big collection of people who have never been encouraged, supported or simply motivated enough to be involved in something bigger than their own tiny issues that held no significance to the amount of stuff taking place around them.
Moral of the story: Boo to taking-for-grant-ers.
This may be considered as hate mail, if you’re very sensitive. But if you’re not, then CHANGE. No one gets lucky with a dead person.
How can one help when he has stirrings (word inspired from a Johnny Depp motion picture that I cant remember) within his deepest hole of emotion that needs to be filled with, not jealousy, but envy?
Viewing a rather huge amount of significance in others, I sat in front my ThinkPad, thinking of all the time I’ve spent arguing over who pronounced a word correctly, or what’s French for love and hate, and how Zodiac signs depict a person’s personality awe-struck-ingly well. I could’ve moved my not-so-fat butt and done things at a much younger, and in some cases, appropriate age.
Reading, and reviewing in my mind, all those almost-wonderfully-text-y pieces of writing, I got a feeling of how they all actually thought it to be understood that people want to read what happens in their house, or at work, or how their child was so annoying, and how all the world can think of nothing else but how eventful things can be. Truth is, people want to read it. The downside? Self proclamation. Its definitely amusing to read about funny happenings, especially when its local you connect to it tenfold. Of course, a fellow human’s life is entertaining, but the effects it brings on the said human’s personality/life/thinking is yet to be mentioned in any of the blogs/websites I’ve visited. Sure, events are worth mentioning, and so, enjoying, over and over again, but its always far more satisfying to read what changes did some odd event incur on what person.
The afore mentioned writers, and such, have been inducing emotions in me that I may, or may not, be proud of (depending on the moment in time, and my mood). I will shamelessly say that they were all much more, umm, amusing and frequent than both my blogs put together. I am reading The Aafster Life, right now. And am very much into it. She has also won an award, declaring her ‘Best Diarist’.
Looking around, I can always find faces that I’ve known for a while and can read like the back of my hand.. But judge them, I cant. How do you know who a human is when people have the potential to change every minute, rather every second. Its odd to see how people still expect you to understand their every gesture.. But at the same time take a shot at being under some kind of disguise to make some mystery to themselves because they believe if people knew the real them they’d be vulnerable and hence, get hurt.
Pain and pleasure.
If only they knew how much they’d make everyone’s lives easier/better when honest with each other. It might seem immature, childish and naive at first.. But its tried and tested that the truth always, eventually, wins.
|Joey L.’s photography
The colours in this photograph are so well matched and co-ordinated that I can hardly get over that, let alone the stairs, the slope captured in a composed way and the wonderful, gorgeous man standing with a religious aura. I also love his skin colour and texture.. All perfect.