On Possessiveness and Writing.

I am going to stop writing like I write now. I am going to change my focus from the genre that I write on to something more tangible. I know I blog for two reasons, to write and to express. Sometimes, I think the scales are so biased towards the former that the presence of the latter in this equation can hardly be justified.

I love to write, however mediocre my presentation. The challenge to present in words, my thought processes and feelings, knowing that words are little equipped to cover the infinite gamut of human emotions and interconnections, stimulates me and makes me want to attempt this futile exercise. While I will come nowhere close to expressing what I exactly feel, if I can just touch the surface of my thoughts and transfer one ripple of sensation through the reader and connect to him, even for an instant, with nothing to my aid but my words, then I know I have indeed written.

I do know too that I need to isolate aspects of my writing from the feedback that I receive. I need to stop thriving on compliments and criticisms of my writing and I need to write with a mind unfettered by the limiting boundaries drawn by unsuspecting readers. Sometimes, I think I have just enough curiosity to exceed what is appropriate for one to write for the sake of writing. I reluctantly acknowledge that I can relate to R's thought process.

Although it may seem so, my aim here is not to confuse, by mixing two subjects that have little in common. My aim is to write as I think and since I tend to have simultaneous yet unrelated or thinly connected thoughts competing for my attention, I attempt to reflect the same here. Possessivness occupies prime time slot below, in reverse order.

Let me say it while I still can say it. I am possessive. If there were a ladder that measured good qualities in a person, I fear I see myself hovering around the lower most rung. I avert my eyes from the ladder and write what I acknowlege about myself. I am possessive about my friends - I have seen quite a few people who are - the last disclaimer to be read in a defensive tone, mine!

Thankfully the strength of the feeling is still not alarming enough to generate concerned looks and tsk, tsks thrown my way, yet...

Anyway, I find it easier to deal with my quirks, outside - for the world to see, rather than buried deep inside me. So, here it is. I feel a pang of whatever-you-may-call-it-because-I-cannot-bring-myself-to-say-it-again, whenever I feel that those special people in my life are closer to someone other than me. There is something in the knowing smile they exchange, the understanding nod that they mirror to each other that makes me want to be the one winking in understanding rather than anybody else. It is a fleeting moment, it is ephemerally worth ignoring and then there are people like me, who hold on to that very transient sensation and force themselves to ride the guilt-trip. While I have not matured enough to laugh at the Quixote in me, I am atleast more aware.

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