In Pursuit of Dots

Note to self: Pursue your interests. They’ll lead you to an intersection, a juncture where your mind comes to rest. A place where you matter to yourself. 

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The Mark of an Immature Man: The Catcher in the Rye

All right. Listen to me a minute now . . . I may not word this as memorably as I’d like to, but I’ll write you a letter about it in a day or two. Then you can get it all straight. But listen now, anyway.” 
He started concentrating again. Then he said, “This fall I think you’re riding for–it’s a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn’t permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. The whole arrangement’s designed for men who, at some time or other in their lives, were looking for something their own environment couldn’t supply them with. Or they thought their own environment couldn’t supply them with. So they gave up looking. They gave it up before they ever really even got started. 

You follow me?” “Yes, sir.” “Sure?” “Yes.” 

He got up and poured some more booze in his glass. Then he sat down again. He didn’t say anything for a long time. “I don’t want to scare you,” he said, “but I can very clearly see you dying nobly, one way or another, for some highly unworthy cause.” He gave me a funny look. “If I write something down for you, will you read it carefully? And keep it?” 

“Yes. Sure,” I said. I did, too. I still have the paper he gave me. 

He went over to this desk on the other side of the room, and without sitting down wrote something on a piece of paper. 

Then he came back and sat down with the paper in his hand. “Oddly enough, this wasn’t written by a practicing poet. It was written by a psychoanalyst named Wilhelm Stekel. Here’s what he–Are you still with me?” 

“Yes, sure I am.” 

“Here’s what he said: ‘The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.'” 

He leaned over and handed it to me. I read it right when he gave it to me, and then I thanked him and all and put it in my pocket. It was nice of him to go to all that trouble. It really was. The thing was, though, I didn’t feel much like concentrating. 

Boy, I felt so damn tired all of a sudden. You could tell he wasn’t tired at all, though. He was pretty oiled up, for one thing. 

“I think that one of these days,” he said, “you’re going to have to find out where you want to go. And then you’ve got to start going there. But immediately. You can’t afford to lose a minute. Not you.” 

– from J.D Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye

Every Moment You’re Writing

Listen. Are you listening? You’re not listening. I’m talking to those of you in this class who might be interested in writing. 
Every moment of your life, you’re writing. Even in your dreams you’re writing. When you walk in the school halls you meet various people and you write furiously in your head.
There’s the principal. You have to make a greeting decision. Will you nod or smile? Will you say good morning or simply say hi.
You see someone you dislike. Furious writing again in your head….
A simple stroll in the hallway calls for paragraphs, sentences in your head, decisions galore.
– Teacher Man by Frank McCourt

Statham is Bae

To Write Again

I need to write again
I fear I’m losing that touch

I need to write again
Storify my progress and victories
Like one coming out of rehab or AA

I need to write again
Make my soul fly out from its prison

I need to write again
It’s been a long time away from home

Being Single

If you’re not dating anybody.
Obviously, you’re single.

If you’ve dealt with pain and learnt how to master it on your own.
You are single.

If you’ve seen/heard Exes getting married with a wry smile on your face.
You are single.

If you stand in front of the mirror singing love songs to yourself.
You are single.

If you sing Timberlake’s, Mirror with no imaginary person in the mirror.
You are single.

If you’ve gone on girls night out a zillion times.
You are single.

If you’re still angry about hurts, pains and harm done to you.
You are bitterly single.

If your married friends are worried about you and your parents are silently watching & praying for you.
You are single.

If you’ve learnt to swing the loneliness ball positively.
You are single.

If like me, you’ve not dated in a year or more.
You are single.

PS: If you’re in a relationship and you’re still seriously swinging the loneliness ball. You are singularly single.

    Containing Thoughts

    Don’t you often wish you could catch your thoughts just before they get released into the other parts of your mind?
    That you could trap your thoughts, put them in a jar and watch them twirl around in that transparent prison.

    Don’t you often wish you could control the way your own neurosis flicker on and off?
    That the positive can only be left without being switched off. And the negative never find their way out.

    All in the space of a nano-second.