If I were to think of existential angst as a journey that needs discovering, then I’d have to think of every little moment of self discovery as an important milestone. Every crossroad, an opportunity to choose from multiple opportunities to seek a new meaning, love, happiness, contentment. I’ve been down this path before, sometimes finding myself in familiar, comfortable terrain – clear blue skies, lacy white clouds, spring nip in the air, plum weather to be out there doing the discovering. Sometimes I’m lost, tumbling down unfamiliar places, racing through, trying to grab a hold of whatever I can manage to.
Through it all, only one thing has remained constant. Every time I or someone else asked me what it is I see myself doing, how I want to proceed, what else I’d spend my life indulging in – the answer has always been the same. Writing.
And if there’s one space that is testament to my claim, it is this blog. Ten whole years of writing this blog, to be precise.
When I decided to write a post a day at the start of this year, I didn’t realise it was my tenth year. I knew I’d ignored this space for far too long last year. I felt disconnected from what makes me, me. And I missed having the time to ramble on about whatever the hell I wanted to. When I realised that it was in fact the tenth year, I felt it was serendipitous that I chose this year to dedicate some of my time to this again.
Apparently, it is my WordPress-anniversary today, or so my stats tell me. Five whole years since I moved to here. I remember contemplating it long and hard, for many weeks before I made the shift. Partly because there’s something grown-up-pants-y about WordPress, or at least I thought so and told myself moving to WordPress made my blog more serious hyuk! The truth, at the time, was probably nothing more than the fact that I am such a creature of habit and a sucker for ease of use, which blogger had aplenty before it went bonkers on me.
This month, I complete ten whole years of blogging. I don’t have a date, I’ve never marked it out and so it came and went silently. When WordPress reminded me that it’s my fifth anniversary blogging in here, I was reminded again. And today is day 150. Nice and round, kind of inching towards the halfway mark, it seemed like a fitting day to reminisce.
I’ve gone full circle, ticking off every level of involvement and attachment towards this blog in the years gone by. It’s seen me go through my cranky, whiny, entitled, bratty twenty-something college-goer years to the highs and lows of my first job, the angsty loves of my life, my tremendously painful years looking for work that satisfied me, my marriage, moving to Goa, and all the years spent here, which I think is fit to make so many mini chapters on its own.
Through it all, only one thing has remained constant. Every time I or someone else asked me what it is I see myself doing, how I want to proceed, what else I’d spend my life indulging in – the answer has always been the same. Writing. And if there’s one space that is testament to my claim, it is this blog. A decade of writing this blog.
I’ve used this space as a place to rant, to express myself, to flex my writing muscle, to experiment, to gamble. I’ve even gone from dismissing it as extra curricular non serious stuff to realising that this format I’ve been fkpracticinfor a decade has potential, if I choose to see it that way.
I know now that this blog has played a big role in realising that there’s literally nothing else I’d rather be doing. This is where it began. I know no better, I have no other special skills, I don’t want to do anything else. This is me, this is what I do. And what I’ll probably keep doing till the end of time, no matter what else catches my fancy along the way. Like King said, in what is still my best book on writing,
Writing is magic, as much as the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink. Drink and be filled up.
On that note, here’s a happy song for today, go tekkit <3
This year, more than ever before, I realised with astounding clarity, that I’m nowhere near done. Even though there are days when it feels like I’ve hit a wall, I’m all out of juice, I’m far from done. This writing business, it hasn’t run out. And I’m not done drinking.