The inception of conception

I think the first thing that people will ask once I have published by blog will basically be the question of how I of all people, who swear about how blogging is killing the web started one. Well lemme tell you...

Its a rather long story. It all started one day...

OK no more bullshitting. There's no story, I always felt that blogs were the best way of making oneself heard and giving vent to creative juices but was too busy or too not up to it.

Conventional wisdom says the first one has to be memorable, How is the biggest question ? But why memorable is what we should be asking. What is the persistence of memory ? Do you remember the taste of your mom's home-cooked food ? Can you smell the sea in the middle of the desert ? Can you touch the sunlight in a rainy day ?

Memory is a fickle mistress, she will pleasure you ... She will pain you. Woo her well and you can have feelings you never knew existed, emotions you never knew was possible. But force her and she will leave you with nightmares, pain, tears... We all claim to have good memories. We can remember our childhood moments , our experiences. OR CAN WE ?

An experience, an emotion is never a stand-alone fate. It exists only because others exist. Leave one part out and you can never re-live the moment. Memory is never persistent, emotions are... Remember one and you can appreciate it fully. No need to rake your memory for the associated accessories that come with it. Remember the emotion and memories will come tumbling in, Circumstances, Instances, events, people , happenings. Remember your first crush and you will recall when was the first time you lay eyes on him/her, the first stolen glance, the first meetings. No let me cut short here , Love is something I should not be discussing right now . Maybe later when I feel upto it.

I was talking about persistence to get back into mould of things. We as humans have this inane innate tendency to try establish ourselves on this world. I am perhaps the greatest exponent of it- Bold, Brash, Outspoken, MAD in every sense of the word. Only so people can remember me. But believe me , behind this troubled interior lies a troubled boy waiting to get out. A quiet guy who likes long walks, talking and sitting. No flashes of brilliance , no arrogance , no intellectualism, just plain old john doe. I would so like to live like that. Have a house in the middle of nowhere, with a dog and my other half (if there can be any such ) , go out on hunting trips and read books under the shades of tall trees. Learn fishing and guitar so that I can lull myself to sleep. Life would have been so much fun. But here by a quirk of fate I am stuck in a dingy mental room without a view. A misfit in the grand scheme of things. Trying to shout out to a thick wall. Pounding on doors that are not open.

How I hate my life !!!

Life is such a practical joke played by us by a fickle creature known as fate. How it makes us reach the top of the world only to show us that there is no top of the world. Think !!! I will never like to elaborate on what I write but I do want you to think about it. Let it be bubble gum for your brains.... Chew Chew Chew and POP GOES THE WEASEL

P.S About the title : "No I am not challenged in my writing skills... By the dictionary meaning conception is also the creation of something in the mind..." I am also enclosing a story I had written in one of my phases . Do tell me how much you hate it !!!