Writer's Block

[Around 10 pm,  28th November]

When I woke up today, I had a list of things to do written on a flimsy sheet of paper with not so flimsy determination from the night before. As of tonight, I haven't crossed off one thing from that list. And here I am.

Have you ever sat on a roof top, breathing easy and looked up taking in the immensity of the sky ( a sky taking a new birth with every sunrise, a sky vanquishing the dreary day with every sunset, a sky full of stars that commands the curiosity of artists, scientists, philosophers, preachers and all human kind alike) simply delved in the questions not really seeking answers ? Nothing like the cosmic perspective to shy away from the mundane. 

So, my grand plan was to watch the night sky to derive inspiration except it's really scary to be on the terrace at this hour and I chickened out. Don't laugh. Try doing the same , you 'll know. xp

[Around 11:30 am, 29th November]

One month left in 2016, going through my blog content made me realize I haven’t been actively writing on Teenage Conundrum, probably cause I started a Facebook page. Or maybe that’s just an excuse.
Off late, it has become increasingly difficult to find the energy to do anything at all. Any escape or salvation is only a momentary aversion. Who is this loyal friend ? who grabs your flailing soul balancing on a thin rope…a life in tangled up circles leading nowhere. Wanting to get out but where would you go ? Where would you go ?  

As I sat thinking of an idea for a blogpost, I seemed to fall short. Maybe I have succumbed to writer’s block.

As google puts it Writers's Block is the condition of being unable to think of what to write or how to proceed with writing.

Now that we have established that, inch closer to your screens and allow me tell you a little secret. I don't believe in the concept of a writer’s block. Allow me also to explain to you why.   

Writing is a process. A process invariably dependent on the writer. And all of us, every single one of us is a writer. In the words of Margaret Atwood “In the end, we all become stories”. Every waking moment , we are writing ourselves a story. A story that is in a sense above our comprehension. We are made from the remnants of dead stars. We are nature’s poem brought to ecstatic consciousness.

Now considering that, maybe I am not able to come up with a story or a poem or a masterpiece as of now. Maybe am not physically writing anything. That does not mean I have stopped writing or I have hit a block. It simply is a part of the process. There are rudimentary thoughts in your wonderful, self-aware brain hidden away in a subliminal paradise waiting to present themselves to you. Patience. Don’t disappoint them by calling the angst and frustration of not being able to come up with words at a snap of your fingers…a writer’s block. It is as much a part of the story as death is a part of life. I say it is a tad bit demeaning to the process of writing.
 

That my dear readers, is the Writer’s block paradox. Like the Fermi’s paradox. Although Fermi’s paradox is way cooler what with aliens and extra terrestrial life. In case you don’t know what Fermi’s paradox is don’t you worry. Until a week back even I didn’t know.

 “There’re many things we don’t really know. It’s an illusion that we know anything at all. If a group of aliens were to stop me and ask, “Say, bud, how many miles an hour does the earth spin at the equator?” I’d be in a fix. Hell, I don’t even know why Wednesday follows Tuesday. I’d be an intergalactic joke” 

― Haruki Murakami, A Wild Sheep Chase

 Having said that go google Fermi’s paradox. Not knowing is one thing. Not wanting to know is a different thing altogether.