Note to self?

The thing about writing is always about being in touch. Come to think of it, that's how everything works, right? Once your devote your faculties to something, that's when it starts responding. Be it workouts, practice, writing, playing an instrument, whatever. 

The usual escape route is the state of mind, or the way many things are cluttered in the head, not being able to think straight, etc. But I think it's honestly the drive. Or the allocation for each specific thing in our head. Over time, you always get used to something. We need to choose what it is. Is that something actually nothing, is it something that we find peace with, is it something we can bring joy to ourselves, is it something that we can make the world a better place to be in. 

Whatever maybe the case, its foolish to even hope to you know, work and make the world a better place. The underlying thing is to find what we are good at and then become possessed with it. There are going to be distractions, but if we find where our heart truly belongs, that's when our world truly becomes better. And maybe small worlds like that can add up and make something out of it collectively.

The perspective of TIME

Writing something that's on public forum for a considerable time is a task. While it is surely an extension of the state of mind, I feel it's a responsibility to have good content. Something that stirs me up when I get back to reading this some day or maybe works for someone who's in a similar state of mind. Reading and writing, that way, have their own little inspirational backdrop.

Over the past few days, I've been trying to work on optimising time. There is the part of rest that is different for everybody. But what happens to the rest of the active time? Planning and thinking sometimes robs a lot of time. Social media usage when uncontrolled takes the lion share. Its not a good idea to shun any of it, but maybe an effective moderation of these would perhaps work, depending on what you really need to do, or what productivity you want to bring to the table.

I recently stumbled on an instagram reel. A dude is hurriedly walking and talking (apt, considering the subject). He says you get just 75 summers and 75 winters if you are lucky and so on. I like the opening of the video. Immediately grabs your attention. 75 summers. I'm on the 38th one now. That's just 50%. Also, optimistically hoping that I'm indeed lucky. That's how time is, right? On one day there are grandiose retirement plans, on one day there is a lackadaisical attitude, on one day when you are just about to sleep, there are a hundred ideas that you want to execute. But 75 summers. Fuck. 

Again, there are ways to interpret this. Would you rather sit and cry over spilt milk or would you turn industrious suddenly and make sure everything is put in place? When you are lacking a little perspective, what might also help is dividing time into even further smaller factions. That's when you get a struggle of the 5 minute deal. Content on instagram robs your time. Social media where misleading headlines of videos are all done to get the said number of hits or views.

The point is, time is just the way it is. It is a vast canvas given to us painters. What do we fill it in. Would we surrender to unknown people painting our canvas in their own colours or would we find a way to paint it ourselves, even if its two mountains and a sun?

Week 10, apparently

The mind is still held on to December. One of the busiest months I’ve had since a very long time, which was aided by a diagnosis of acute pharyngitis. Few firsts in the month - singing for a live classical dance gig, two gigs on the same day, etc., quite a fuck all new year gig. All of it, together made it quite memorable. The events from then on to here, the beginning of March is a, a haze? Of course it has all been tracked, there have been few gigs, few extremely decisive discussions and meetings, new ventures and all that, but still, seriously? Week 10 already? Beats me.

Too late for a new year wish. Too late to recap like the customary blog in the first week of January. Honestly, if I come to think of it, I don’t think I actually spent time reminiscing anytime in January. I think few gigs and work kept me busy, but I still can’t believe I was that busy.

Or simply to quote myself, blogging climbed down the priority ladder. I really don’t know. Goals remain, goals are still being made, new aspirations to look forward to are all active. I guess this is how it is going to function. More and more goals keep coming along. On some good days they are realised, some days they are pushed. 

I was thinking of how an idle brain is a devil’s den. The mind conjures up things to put the whole state of mind in a turmoil. And who does it? The mind. It’s a little flummoxing. Made me wonder if it worked in sections independent of each other. Or it’s probably a problem with us overthinkers. Till something so interesting comes up that can shatter that barrier and tell the brain to function normally. Or is it an after effect of a super busy week and you decide to chill all of a sudden but the brain says no. Maybe few brains and bodies are not meant to rest. But who decides that again? :D

I had to vent out the confusion. I’m pretty sure I made sense, But venting usually means getting rid of a certain feeling, or something? That’s not happening.