Monday, July 16, 2012


The worst thing that can happen to a writer is the lack of inspiration to write. 

I itch to write; I want to write; I yearn to write. My mind moves faster than my fingers and I lose the thoughts as they come. 

Worse than that, is this feeling that my thoughts aren't worth the effort. 


We all do things that we know aren't right. Even while we're indulging certain vices, there's a voice in our head that's doing everything short of screaming the cons. Yet, we indulge. 

It makes me question the virtues of curiosity. Is it still a virtue when it aids you in indulging a bad habit? Or is it still a vice when it propels you to explore something you wouldn't under the influence of logic? 

I had an experience recently that jolted me into reality. I've always found it far easier to be roped in by curiosity, all the while ignoring the quintessential voice in my head. Sooner or later, it lands up being the needle to the addiction and a clutch you put up on a pedestal. 

It sounds passe to exclaim I'm unhappy. Most people would say I'm ungrateful and God knows, I think so too. But then I sit back and wonder who can be the judge of my reasons but me myself? Can you know the quirk that makes my 'perfect world' wrong or, are you able to see the dent in the bubble? 

Luck is a matter of perception; the hard part is keeping the vision straight.