49 Posts Later…

“Any fool can be happy. It takes a man with real heart to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep.”
― Clive Barker

What drives me to write? What makes me open my notebooks and try to scribble down the first words of what could possibly a lengthy post? What makes me write week after week about anything I have in mind? Maybe I am just indulging the exhibitionist in me through my writing, being naked and vulnerable in the form of words. Maybe I am just gutsy just like my friends describe me, or maybe I am just bored or maybe I am just seeking attention…

I started writing just this year and I wrote my very first post on the 11th of April; I remember my first post as sort of an introduction of myself attached with a photo of my handy notebook and pen, signaling my transition from pen and paper to blogging. I remember trying to convince myself what could possibly go wrong, I could just hide myself in a very anonymous alias, always remind myself not to give away too much about myself, create a separate account, and cover my tracks. Then there is the matter of the title, a play on the famous “a wolf in sheep’s clothing”. In my mind, presentation is always half the battle but when presentation is all you have got then you have no substance and personality.

I remember asking myself what to write, my first few posts felt uninspired and a bit bland if you ask me. Trying to find my rhythm or my train of thought and then I stopped and after two months of inactivity I wrote something again; That was the time things got interesting.

I began writing again, this time with a little bit more effort and inspiration. The more I wrote the more things I unravel about myself, things like how much I enjoy living in this small city of mine, how low my self-esteem was back then, and how much I love being a father. I get to know myself more intimately this time.

It was organic, no-holds-barred and non-commercial; I try to put as much of myself into words, put every bit of my personality into each sentence and try to make this as unique as me. Like exposed flesh, I let my bare words be out in the open and let any unsuspecting or curious attention to catch a glimpse. You may run away in utter disgust or you may stop and take a minute to try to appreciate what is right in front of you. It is often flawed, filled with grammatical errors, wrong spellings, and punctuations; it sometimes has its inconsistencies, lack of substance and coherence. But It is what it is and what it is, is me; my naked and bare self in some other form.

I want to write more, I want to write just about anything. I want to write about how profound it is to do the laundry, I want to write about what shoes go with what type of trouser, I want to write about cooking in an open fire, I want to write about the latest book I have read and how it impacts me. I want to write about life, love, sex, experiences, and everything…

Writing has been more than an outlet for me, it has been a way for me to pour myself into each word. A way for me to look at myself through a different lens, A way to simply look at the simple pleasures in life. The joy of cracking a joke to someone miles away, or by a simple recommendation of what movies to watch; writing has opened new opportunities for me in exploring such joys.

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