Writing 101 [20]: Wrap it up

To the end of an amazing course called Writing101…

I would like to thank the WordPress team for such an opportunity, where, a lazy person like me was given a chance to see that she can do a lot more than she thinks.

I really appreciate that through this course, I was able to explore new and different techniques and think beyond my limits.

What I did not like, was the fact that I myself was unable to cope up with the course because of my habit of procrastination and the time. Of course, time as always will remain a factor that makes me lazy.

For the future, I wish to keep up with writing. And writing more than I have written; in terms of content and context and techniques. At least 2 posts per week. In fact, I have a pre new year resolution to have at least 100 posts by 31st December (this post being the 89th post – yay! )

So to wrap it up, Good luck to all and hope you have the most happiest and blessed life ahead ūüôā

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Writing 101 [19]: Feature a guest

You had me at these¬†posts….

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To be honest, she has more posts that you would drown in reading. An amazing writer, her posts always enlighten my thoughts. It was definitely an earlier post that I read, but this post would give a brief intro to Adrian and her blog

This post by Cherrytato at¬†cherrytato.wordpress.com¬†inspired me for my own post for Writing101 assignment¬†17. I was lost at that moment. I have not travelled as much and the places I want to travel to (and that I don’t google them – I should though). Anyhow,

If you are having a tough time tweaking your C.Vs or need any other professional help, visit this blog by the multi-talented Gail Kaufman at mentoringstudents.wordpress.com. This could be your mode to motivation or a step further to push you to be more active (it did help me)


There are SO MANY POSTS,¬†¬†ideas, poems….SO MANY AMAZING ONES that I have had the fortune of reading, but, did not save the links of and I feel terrible that I do not remember their blog names.

If life allows, I will start to have a monthly or weekly “You had me at these posts…” post so as to show my enthusiasm and appreciation for them (and the fact that these often become an inspiration for my next posts)

Writing 101 [18]: Compose a series of anecdotes

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The prisoner with wings¬†stared out her cage,¬†watching the other birds fly. The wings she saw on them, made her wonder if her’s could flutter the same.

The prisoner with wings¬†stared out her cage, the food dish still untouched. For she yearned the taste of the crumbs she viewed outside; the crumbs those free one’s could peck whenever they wanted to.

The prisoner with wings stared out her cage, which was kept next to the window. She could view all that was outside, the whole world right in front of her. She wondered if she could see the same world up front.

The prisoner with wings stared out her cage, when finally, one day they opened the door for her. So she could fly away and join the others that awaited her presence.

The prisoner with wings stared out her cage, her eyes would now never shut. The time spent yearning, all that wanting to be free, slept away inside her.


Inspired by the sticker on my wall.

 

 

Writing 101 [17]: A map as your muse

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As a kid, the first map we learnt about in school was this the horse shaped land with different names for the part of it’s body. As we learnt further, we realised that we were inhabitants currently walking on this horse.¬†

It was just My “Living” town, #MyDubai, #MyHome.

I am aware tags do not work this way. Neither have I ever used this tag in any of my posts/uploads/etc.

Today I will. For, the city in this hash tag means to me more than a city on the map. It means Home.

I have never lived anywhere else – which is a very normal thing for others as well – nor have I believe I can find a place to live anywhere else.

I have been born, brought up, schooled, if the word exists – universitied – here and I have had all my life experiences in Dubai. (and hopefully many more to come)

I do want to travel, I want to experience different cultures, see different architectures, meet a diversity of people that I have never met. I want to wander the world like a lost person – but – also have a place to come back home to. And in all the lands that have been discovered on Earth, my home is this land.

I have never been sentimental about this because of the only reason that keeps us hanging in between. I do know I – and many others likewise – do not belong here, and have been mentally preparing to “go back” to our country of origin.

We are the strangest sets of originators that do not have an origin. If I ever have the fortune of travelling, to me, my country of origin is going to be none other than Dubai. But that all depends on fate.

If I ever read this in the future, I will remember the resent I had while writing this, thinking of the future itself. Paradoxes are fun, eh?

Writing 101 [16]: Mine your own material

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the day I felt the world

closing in on me,

I looked up in protest 

and found a sky full of stars.

Twinkling silver specks,

turned the dark sky bright,

I looked up in awe

and saw the stars shine

I knew it was no magic

I knew it could not be fate

for when I looked up, I saw 

those stars were there for me.

While I sat under the dark sky,

twinkled by the starlight,

I looked up and felt the world

showering a smile down on me.

Hope glittered in light,

time stopped for a moment,

As I looked up and saw,

A sky full of stars.


 

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The picture above is silver glitter on my side table and I did not actually get the inspiration for a poem from it. In fact, this title was mean’t for a story ..or something. But then, here it is, the random poetry that comes out…randomly.

Here is a list of ideas I have/had which are meant to be “blogged”. This picture has been manipulated to look neater, or else you would have been suffering reading my handwriting (which is, stereotypically, closer to a doctor’s handwriting)

Writing 101 [15]: Take a cue from your readers

Anchors images

When it comes to anchors, we would imagine either a news reporter, or an arrow shaped, heavy metallic equipment for a ship for mooring. This weight is used to station ships from sailing away or to be safe at a particular place.

Similarly, if you feel yourself being pulled down, you will notice that anchors exist in reality as well.

At times, they keep us safe at our harbours, from storms, from other harm that the vast “sea” may hold. But as the time passes, we realize that it is these anchors that are holding us down. We realize there’s this rust which starts to grow on us. We become inexperienced, we forget how to sail, we loose our contact with the air and just let the wind, as it passes by, tell us what has already gone by.

I have seen anchors, in real life. I have felt the weight of an anchor in real life. They differ according to different human experiences. Memories that hold us down. Or even in the form of humans; those who we love most.

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Writing 101 [14]: Recreate a single day

 

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That day…

I remember, I had woken up early, around 5 a.m. It was the exhibition day and my art work, “Little Sparkles”,¬†an oil painting I had created, portraying children playing in a playground was to be exhibited. I was very excited, and was hoping that it would be selected as one of the best art work.

He woke up too. an hour later, when I was done with my bath and my breakfast. His was ready at the table, but I could see that even the smell of his favourite breakfast failed to lift his groggy mood.

Keeping a track of time, I skipped around, arranging the house and simultaneously deciding on the dress I’d wear to the exhibition. I asked for his opinion, to which he “humm-ed”most of the time. He would normally never ¬†do that, but today, he looked off.

It was 9 a.m now, and as the time passed, my excitement and anxiety both started to act as one drug. He could feel my restlessness, but had not said a word since he had woken up. My mind kept going back and forth to him and the exhibition. I wanted this day to be as perfect as our lives had been. But today, my life felt like it was anchoring me down.

I became aware that he had something that disturbed him. I asked him, but all I got was a glare. As if I knew something but I had not cared about it. It had become 11 a.m; 5 more ruthless hours and stress till I distract myself in a different world.

At about 01:00 p.m, I arranged lunch. Sandwiches and pasta, for a light occasion. He did not have lunch with me. Odd. Now I felt not only anxious and stressed, but worried. In a way I was scared. I gave up on lunch and went to our bedroom.

He was on the lazy¬†couch, reading the¬†All you need¬†magazine. I started the conversation and enquired about what was bothering him. He looked up, this time, as though looking¬†through my soul, and said that one word that broke all the knots in my heart: “You.”

This time, I glared at him. I wasn’t looking at him, but the direction of my vision was at his. My lips trembled, eyes opened wide, and I could feel the tears. I turned around and left him there. 3 more hours to go.

I had quick lunch, dressed up, took the necessities, and drove to the¬†Galleria d’Arte where the exhibition was held, reaching¬†at 03:30 p.m. There, I saw the hustle and bustle of art enthusiasts at the entrance. I remembered how I once used to among them. And how we had met. But it is all disappearing now.

Why did he destroy my hard work? I had put my heart into it, I had tried my best, skipped lunch, I had not slept normal hours; so much effort.. all¬†lost¬†in that single moment. He knows how I feel about him and how much his existence means to me. But why…

The exhibition commenced at around 04:35 p.m, and the crowd kept growing. Many visited my work, complimented me and wrote compliments on the ballot (an encouragement method, or a way of criticising; the “ballot-ers”¬†remain anonymous). While I greeted and met everyone, my eyes scanned for him. It was as if he would come there, to at the least encourage me. But he never came.

At 08:00 p.m, the exhibition ended. the hall became emptier by the minute.

I wrapped up all what I had and the ballots (they were ours to keep), where, I saw one of the ballots, that was placed under the box, fall on the ground. In a hurry I picked it up, without a second thought, went in my car and secured the box in the passenger seat. A bit curious, where it was 08:37 p.m at the moment, I got curious about the chit. I opened it.

Horror dawned upon me. Which was a bit over exaggerated, but any other woman at that moment would be. The words:

“Congratulations!

Guess what? Your art work was already selected as the best. Sorry I had to be so harsh and secretive.

I know you are going to be mad but it was their idea! And a pretty neat one, I’ll give them that…

The hat and coat worked huh?

Hope you enjoyed the drama. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

Love………. “

I drove as fast as I could. Safe, but fast enough. As I reached the door in the next hour, at 9:25 p.m, , my feet went numb. My heart beat increased. Because, what really gave me goosebumps at the time I read the note was the signature I had forged a billion times to memorise it with my eyes closed.

It was His.


 

This task is more than a bit of my of of many rushed works.

Please criticise it.