07/10/2012 by Siddiqui Fayesal
Yeah so you’ve heard many “that weird feeling…” jokes, big deal. So have I. As recent as yesterday as a matter of face which went something like this:
That weird feeling when there aren’t any more “That weird feeling” jokes available.
Jokes are the last thing in my mind right now. I’m in the mood to do some serious sulking. I might even sound like a young girl cribbing about how her tunic is not as beautiful as the neighbours dog. Or, probably, like a writer (a little joke there) with writer’s block. Talking about them blocks let me tell you about mine. I started this year with a little promise to myself that I’d write more regularly and more carefully. I was doing fine until August. I got 5 posts in that one month. I was averaging at 3.875 uploads per month and I was bloody proud of that! But come September and I’ve become somewhat of a moron. I’ve become this dense sack of goo, that gelatinous icky thing that sticks to you. I feel like how my tongue’d feel if it snacked upon a snack which I knew to be fried in bad oil and will give me that coated feeling like I’ve just licked some dense sack of goo!
I feel like that layer of fat, like that unwanted last drop of a fizzy drink, like that broken china saucer that no one wants and all this because I am unable to write. I have tried to string a few words together using some smart punctuation to elicit some exciting inflection so as to create a something that whizzes around the head of the reader and makes him\her appreciate my audacious use of commas, metaphors and some lesser known figures of speech.
Alas! That’s where my verbose self comes to a halt. This is where I usually fumble. At least in this month of September I’ve fumbled. I have tried hard to come up with some thing that I could be proud of in retrospection; so that I’d look up this month of September even next month and re-read what I wrote even when I was hounded by the bad memories of learning the intricacies of The Income Tax Act and the observations of a Information System Auditor.
Do I look like I care what the Information System Auditor observes?
All the observation that I’m bothered about is the lack of a number in parenthesis adjacent against “September”. OK there is a number. But it was just a post I re-blogged. No matter how my tiny heart flutters I know that it doesn’t count. This situation hurts. For a person who hopes that his life takes off as a small time writer (without the perpetual block) and ends as a Professor who teaches SOMETHING to do with Literature, this is definitely a low point in my life. I distinctly remember 6 times when I switched on my computer and started on to something. I couldn’t get past the first few sentences. This is the time when I reminisce about certain things that I have written and am proud of. There are few alright, but, they’re me at my best.
30 days of desperation and all I could do was re-blog an article that someone else wrote. I gave credit and everything and it hurt me like crazy. I felt like one of those poor faced puppies with tufts of hair missing because it doesn’t have a care taker, a master. It makes me feel, rather immaturely of course, that the literary world doesn’t want me. Its stone walling me; every attempt comes to the same bloody end, with me shutting down the computer with disgust before copying a few promising items from various sources. All the while hoping that enlightenment shall strike me in the form of words and phrases that make some more sense than I do these days!
I’m finally awake now that September has ended!