In Vacant or in Pensive Mood

I think I like novels better than short stories. Novels begin and end well. They start easy, get thick and difficult around the middle and finally conclude on a note you may or may not agree with. You become the character in the novel, you live and grow, fall in love, get hurt, face difficult situations, survive, or die. When you have read through from cover to cover, you are almost proud of the character you have been, and the life you have lived as the character in the book. If you are not proud of the character, then maybe you didn’t like the book; but that is something else. At the end of the novel, whether you liked it or not, you feel the satisfaction, or the dissatisfaction, of a life lived. Sometimes you feel tired and exhausted from all the action. You are happy, nevertheless, because you know how it ended.  (This is for readers like me who get so involved in the book that when I am forced to take a break from reading, I am almost a zombie. My body is in this world, but my

I’ve just created my blog page, and this is my first-ever blog entry. In this day and age, when pretty much everyone has a blog page, my first blog entry seems a tad too late for my almost 22-year old self. Oh, to be honest, I’m a lazy person, and I like to avoid doing anything that is not mandatory. Except, of course, the things I love. It’s not mandatory to read a novel, or Facebook constantly, but these things I do, because I love doing them. Most normal people don’t like working/studying, but both these are not optional for most of us. So we do them. Writing, for me, is not optional because it is part of my job. So writing is programmed into my system, into my nature and into my way of living. Apart from the writing I do at work, I write anything and everything my friends want me to write, I scribble down spontaneous lists anywhere possible, I devour quotes from all possible sources and write them everywhere for inspiration, I record almost every feeling and every event of my life