All my life I’ve been indifferent, impervious to what happens around me. In a broader sense, only the subtle things affected me, the undertones, the shadows. Like if there was a severe fight between ma n pa, what matterred more was, whether I would get an ‘excellent’ or a ‘very good’ for the drawing assignment. Everything else was immaterial. People call it selfishness. I call it impishness. The brazen immateriality of an imp to things around him.
Now, I’m amazed. I’ve managed to surprise myself. Me being indifferent to me. To think of, whatever I wrote yesterday was quite sahbby and unconvincing. Yet, it not affects me. I can always edit the post, refine it, re-write it, people won’t come to know how bad I write and I’m conciously choosing not to do so.
Who I’m & what I’m going to be
These days I’m reading Bashir Badr’s gazhals; re-reading Ayn Rand’s ‘We The Living’ – my favourite read till date; started ‘The God of Small Things’ by Ms. Rai – pretty late I know. Another thing on my reading list is a book titled ‘Sucess V/s Joy’ by Geet Sethi/Suneel Agarwal. Wonderful it is. And the daily dose of newspapers, web feed, blogs, e-mails etc. I’ve got my hands full. All this reading & nothing much to write of? I feel, at present I’m more of a reader who sometimes writes. in about 80:20 ratio. I want to be a writer who reads a lot. That is a conscious decision & this blog is part of it.
Right beside me the clock shows 12:25am. I’ll push off now. I miss you Lucky.
15th december, 2005 12:25am