Ode to dead blogs

Writer's block affects every writer, from the amateur to the professional. Sometimes we accomplish a piece of art, and in a fit of rage or despair, flush it down the drain. There have been several of these blogs I miss, blogs which had tremendous potential to be great, and blogs on the verge of being great. And I had the good luck to read them when they were alive, when they existed.

Birth of Art: observation.
Courtsey- Seto.Wal

An artist isn't defined by your academic degrees. Everybody has an artist in them, and like artist, everybody expresses their emotions , views and feeling in their own individual ways. Love, Lust, Wanderlust, Empathy, Pain, Melancholy, Passion, Affection, Rage, Trust, Mistrust, Disgust, Greed, Terror, Loathing, Amazement- all the feelings encompassing are expressed by every individual individually. Some of us have embraced the idea of expressing ourselves using a diary, or a log. The Web based diaries are Blogs (weB LOGS). And hell, like in every field, there are some people who excel at expressing themselves, hitting the right notes, and hitting there it induces the emotions and raw feelings.

I love blogs because, if somebody is good at writing or trying to better themselves, they have the courage to publish it to the internet to be criticized by a large number of people. Going though blogs feel like browsing through somebody's Go-Pro®: personal experiences which are fun and enriching to watch.

Calcutta Calling '15-'16

Laziness is the source of all evil. Seriously.

Calcutta winters are really comfortable. As a soothing 16°C, a jacket is suffice to avoid catching the cold. Less winter wear reciprocates to more travelling ease ! I know, stupid logic. Well, clothes or no clothes, home is always the desired destination. Home is literally where the heart is, and I miss home. Not really, but at least the cool/weird/awkward people (dogs and carts included).

so many vehicles going whroom

My hometown, Calcutta isn't far from weirdness. I woke up and heard a bridge had collapsed on a large number of folks. Its really sad, and this isn't the first time its happened. And the most ironical part is, we as Calcuttans pride our city with bridges, the magestic Howrah Bridge, the Vidyasagar Setu and the newer Nivedita Setu, the first being a monument of British engineering. And fucking flyovers fall out of skies. Sigh, the poor souls who got hurt, my wishes are with them.

Still, infrastructure back home isn't that shitty, its okay by Indian standards.

Past-Future Love-hate relationship

so damn true (courtesy: Sarah's Scribbles)

Sorry for the hiatus, I had my exams and a major wedding to attend. See, there I go on, blaming myself for not updating this blog. Incorrigible.

There are things in the past I've done that fill me with regret even after such a long period of time, things done in the recent, not-so-recent, and not-at-all-recent past. Bad choices, evil pranks, repetition of the same mistakes, over and over again. Still, I don't hate my past-self, it wasn't too crappy.

So the present is all we have, improve, improvise and redo. Well, things  aren't that shitty always, and I'm trying to find ways to beat the constant hum of boredom. I've been trying, and maybe a bit too hard, investing time and money ( I bought a new bicycle, woot hoot !) Clearly, there's this materialistic thought which thinks "More books = more knowledge" which would be true, if the effort was there. Instead, there's a growing pile of backlog of entertainment and academics. Still, the little road trips, the little time spend with the people who matter, the silly homework and assignments completed before time. These little insignificant bits do tend to pile up, in the positive sense.

Lets see, I;ll let you know if things get better off.