So as a cook or a chef examines the ingredients to be added to the recipe in preparation, an amateur writer or blogger as me spend time in pondering over which word to be jotted down next, the phrase to be arranged and fixed into a design that can be palatable and perspicuous for the readers.
Digging and scooping my brain for gleaning the requisite word in store, to be constructed into an attention-grabbing phrase. No matter how poor a repository my brain act as, I manage to create something out of nothing, or reach somewhere out of nowhere. And yet I cook another story, blended with varied flavors to incite different stimuli on the taste buds of many an individual.
Each time an idea strike my mind or an experience incite in me the need to pen down my thoughts, I do it instantly. Or it would be vanished the next minute. Am I in a way tiring myself? Or ushering too much a work burden to my little brain? But each time after the composure of a paragraph or an article, I end up being a happier girl, with a lovely little circle of contentment enclosing my lips.
I would spend time in scribbling something as and when an idea flashes across me. Framing and constructing sentences or knitting a few phrases into poetic expression has caught up my attention. Sometimes, I simply wait for my brain to send the stimulus, which at times fails to. If it does, the same I engrave on the white sheet before it dissipates. Many a times, I would find it hard to assign the accurate word to what I wanted to convey.
People say I am funny, some say I am romantic going through the posts in my blog. But the fact is situation makes me so. The circumstances and the fascinating people around me do layout the conditions congenial for the conception of the necessary ideas and theory in my brain. This subsequently drives me towards the spontaneous reproduction of the same after a period of sorting out the jumbled ideas.
At times, when I am too busy to pen down something or update my blog, I feel as if I have lost track on something else. So often, my daily schedule at the college, the erratic network and some miscellaneous things counteract my earnest urge.
If writing and expressing my own or any other’s hidden stories is an attribute of my happiness, then I am going to go on and on. In this simple way, I am going to choose to be happy. I am going to make this habit cling to me like a shadow. So long as I live, so shall it enthrall and dwell in my everyday custom.