Saturday, June 25, 2016

Bachelor of Life.

I want to downplay these four years; my experiences in pursuing a bachelor's degree, somewhere far yet still within the country. I embarked upon the quest for independence, of staying by myself, a couple of hundred km's from home. Frankly, I grew up a sheltered child, given more than I could give. This period marked a sudden upheaval of my day-to-day life, of a life living in the city. The transition of migrating a backwater countryside state did not sit well with a born and bred city boy, even if I mostly stayed at home for the past twenty years or so.

At the beginning, it was pretty surreal, I was constantly in a state of disbelief that it was my own decision that led me to this place. The city served as the constant reminder that I'll never be good enough, to go out and see the world. So, I went and pursue my studies at a rural institute instead. I was not aware that there's an entirely separate campus for engineering studies, and even after four years, I did not question why is it so. In hindsight, I should have asked more and challenge more but the environment doesn't really nurture such behavior. Therefore, I grew lazy and complacent, losing the reason why I went there in the first place. In light of sounding like a total wuss and sore loser, I did not pick myself up and fulfill the potential of all that I could be.

I managed to scraped by, just like I said I would. I foretold a self-fulfilling prophecy and reaped a little good from it. Academically, I guess I did okay. Just not so much in other areas of self development, I would've like to went out and tried more things. Alas, there's just so many things to be tried at such a small and secluded campus. The amount of resources available are severely limited, but the main contributing factors remain to be my own laziness and complacency.

These four years have been life changing. Just not enough. I'm still wholly unprepared for the next stage, as I was when I entered university. I wonder if it's my curse to feel this way my entire life. Does everyone else experience the same sentiments, or am I merely being overly introspective?

I'd like to see more of the world. Beyond that of what my screen offers me.

Friday, June 24, 2016

Four.

It sounds a little pretentious, but I've already know what words to use at this exact moment. I decided from day one that when I managed to accomplish this milestone, these are the words to go to. They are neither long-winded nor fanciful; I won't be trying to pull witty analogies now, I just want to express one very simple fact with three simple words.

It is done. 

Saturday, June 4, 2016

#1.

When I said I'm going to do this, I have no idea where this would take me, if it would take me anywhere in the first place at all. At least, I had hoped it might.

I probably just needed an excuse to write. To  feel the words.
Believe me when I tell you, it sounds so much better in my head; much less pretentious and snobby artsy. Fortunately, I have this little space where I could just write without a care.

Really? Perhaps. Not.

Everything I write, I write in hopes that someone might stumble upon this site and read this very sentence. I might lie and tell everyone otherwise, but that's my sincerest hope. I want my written words to be read, to feel appreciated for what I've typed. There's always this perpetual fear within, gnawing at my insides, that I am not good enough to put words to my jumbled thoughts. That's what the backspace is for; to undo and try again. Again. Again. And again.

There's not much structure in these posts, and I think that I'd like it that way. I just needed an excuse to type, even if to no one at all. Thank you for reading.

Friday, June 3, 2016

Hundred.

One hundred words a day, be it fictitious stories, idle banter or incoherent ramblings, I aspire to work my decaying writing muscles. I longed to, as a matter of fact. I blame procrastination, because its a real thing now; not just an abstract concept made up to explain how well I waste my time. Shrugs.

You and I both know that is not the underlying problem. I could fault everyone and everything else but in the end, it comes back to me. Writer's block. Heh. How does someone identifies as a writer? Is it a persona? A pen name? Do you just wake up one day, and decides that you're going to tell everyone you're gonna start writing for a living? It's not that easy,innit?

Could you suffer from writer's block when you're not even a full-fledged writer? Hell, do even real writers experience this? I have absolutely no idea.

You thought to save the world.
Now, you struggle to save yourself.