The explosive TAM-BAM
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Monday, July 09, 2007
Stepping stone....
As I type, I am already regretting the way I am beginning this article. But I suppose it is because I have not written anything for quite a while now. This is probably what they call a “writer’s block”, when lack of inspiration spawns an inability to express. In a conscious effort, I have decided to draw inspiration from this very handicap and use it as crutch to jump over the block. I may end up writing either a parody on my parasitic dependence on some form inspiration in order to be able to write; or a tribute to the many empty “Google” windows I have opened, to frame the emptiness of my mind. Nevertheless the blue color of the windows accent the “blues” I am going through.
As I try to wade out of the murky blues, I go green with envy at people who are able to draw inspiration from small things in life and furthermore the ones who take to writing instinctively, without the need for any inspiration. Green envy blends into red rage as irritation mounts the way it does, when your ballpoint pen refuses to yield when you are signing your cheque at the bank counter. All these vivid colors fade away as I stare at the strident truth in hand, my inability to write and the truth alone remains, leaving behind a white sheet in front of me, a white empty sheet, very literally inviting me to write.
As I hastily try to wind up my article I realize that writing a bad article is like screwing up your cooking, the more you try to fix it the worse it turns out to be. It would only be easier to face the fact and eat humble pie. I may have failed to scale the block but nevertheless I have now a stepping stone which may at least help me do better the next time.
As I try to wade out of the murky blues, I go green with envy at people who are able to draw inspiration from small things in life and furthermore the ones who take to writing instinctively, without the need for any inspiration. Green envy blends into red rage as irritation mounts the way it does, when your ballpoint pen refuses to yield when you are signing your cheque at the bank counter. All these vivid colors fade away as I stare at the strident truth in hand, my inability to write and the truth alone remains, leaving behind a white sheet in front of me, a white empty sheet, very literally inviting me to write.
As I hastily try to wind up my article I realize that writing a bad article is like screwing up your cooking, the more you try to fix it the worse it turns out to be. It would only be easier to face the fact and eat humble pie. I may have failed to scale the block but nevertheless I have now a stepping stone which may at least help me do better the next time.
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