Choosing my words

I’ve been sitting here at this computer since a long hour. My eyes are focused at my PC; albeit more eloquently, focusing nothing in particular. The truth is that I want to write something here, for my blog. But my mind goes all blank - exactly like the blank page right in front of me.

Yet, I sit. I wait more. And I wait for words to come. I want to fill the page, dress them with words and create my own story. I already have a few stories in my mind that I want to write here. One of them is about the arrival of spring in Bhutan and the joy it brings to me, which is to say, to my heart.

So, I scribble a few sentences. But all I get are wrong words, wrong story angles. I scratch my head, grumbling, I don’t mean to say it that way. I’m looking for another way to put it. And, I erase them immediately.  

Like this, every time, I struggle to find the words, to write stories. Writing is incredibly hard. Real hard, I admit. It’s a long, for me, arduous process. But you know what? I never fail to keep on believing that it’s possible – that if I’ve a little faith, my writings might one day be good. At least, for my fellow bloggers and friends.

I’m, it’s telling, addicted to the healthy act of writing. I’m being pulled by words, I can’t stop them. Story ideas burst open anywhere I go, anytime. And I’ve to just start writing even my ideas are boring, cliché, predictable.

Like me, I know, all other fellow bloggers find meaning and majesty in just writing words. We are lovers of words, aren’t we? You don’t have to tell me all about this. Because that I spend hours going through your blogs; one blog after another, one post after another.

And what intrigues me the most is the way you care passionately about writing, your insatiable curiosity and astute critical mind, your commitment to storytelling. Your stories make me laugh, cry, wince or even stand back in awe.

When you talk of particular thing, I feel goose bumps of familiarity and it feeds me similar sensation like you experience. I wonder, thrilled, you have pulled out all the contents of my own heart and put them on your blog, in words. But thank goodness, you make me feel that I am not alone. We share the same preoccupation with life and death, love and loss, happiness and heartache, and hope and apathy. After all, we all are walking this bumpy ride of life.

I’m telling you this – one thing more. Your comments make me giddy with pride and pleasure. And I hope it gives you the similar feelings. But more beautifully, it gives you a little nudge of encouragement to write down, more seriously. In the end, that’s what we need in our journey of writing.   

I’m going to say this though. Ahem…I envy those good bloggers, seriously, the way you maintain your blogs. I, quite strange, envy when you pick the freshest ideas and dress them with gorgeous words. I envy the way you effortlessly pour your heart out on your blog, so beautiful. But oddly, wonderfully, how I wish hanging out with you (over a cup of tea or walk) and feeling smarter than I was or ever will be.

Today, it has been two years and half that I’ve been blogging. And I can’t tell you what immense and ineffable joy it brings me to have written all these stories on my blog. Sometimes, I wonder: Did I really write all these stories?