thefauxartist

There's rosemary – that's for remembrance


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I Fear Oblivion.

“You say you’re not special because the world doesn’t know about you, but that’s an insult to me. I know about you. I just want to be enough for you, but I never can be. This can never be enough for you. But this is all you get. You get me, your family, and this world. This is your life.”

– Hazel Grace, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

You can imagine my delight in discovering the coincidence that is my post of the above quote, and then finding out that today’s Daily Post challenge is about ambitions. When will I be loved? What’s my claim to fame?

I first read TFIOS about a year ago. I blitzed through it in the midst of my weekly law reading list. I remember feeling torn between liking the book because of its wit and remaining unconvinced of Augustus Waters. Other than that, I didn’t really have much of an opinion about it. Recently, I had the opportunity to revisit the story, and something truly struck a chord with me.

“I fear oblivion,” said Augustus – which in my then opinion was such a pompous thing to proclaim. It now echoes with my sentiments.

I fear oblivion. I’ll unashamedly confess that. I’ll go as far to say that a lot of us do. Many of us worry that our investment of hard work and money into this emotional roller-coaster of hopes and dreams will only veer off into the void. We want to make a name of ourselves. We want to appear on Ellen and be interviewed. We want to be on Time magazine’s list of Most Influential People 2030. I personally want to be a lawyer by day and writer/singer/actor/superhero by night.

Ambition is a wonderful thing to have. Pursuing it is highly encouraged. Yet we must remember: we are already Someone in this world. A mother, son, friend, husband…loved.

 

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A 140-characters Mindset

This is a response to the dailypost Writing Challenge.

I would imagine procrastination to be a bit like being on drugs; your mind consciously tells you to stay away, but your limbs just fail to cooperate. The day draws to a close, then you realise how much time you’ve wasted and douse yourself with predictable remorse. You resolve to kick the habit, but alas, some things just die hard (look at Bruce Willis!). For me, this empty indulgence came in the form of social media. The little blue logo on my mobile screen became my go-to for all occasions. It prodded me awake in the morning, kept me occupied in awkward social settings, allowed me to retreat into my introversion, kept me awake when my eyelids fluttered threateningly… Whatever the occasion, my thumb would instantly conjure up the familiar news feed. It was my daily stupor.

For my Lenten resolution, I decided that it was high time I got rid of my pointless excursions. Spending hours of each day finding out what celebrities were up to and knowing what everyone did was highly dissatisfying. There were so many other things I could have been doing, and that I have been longing to do. Where was the girl who learnt to play the guitar on her own? Back then, she could even code HTML and write fiction commendably.

As expected, the first few days of my fast were not the most pleasant experience. I surprised myself to discover how dependent I was upon social media. My jittery hands would naturally reach out for my mobile phone or iPad. I would sit staring into space, feeling the void of my addiction. The absence grew more pronounced when I realised that I have been thinking in terms of status updates and 140-character sentences. In my mind, all my experiences were constricted into truncated statuses, engineered to seek the maximum level of attention of my followers. Even with this line of consciousness, I know that the worst is not over; there is every possibility that I might just lapse into old ways and be consumed by even stronger waves of procrastination.

And that’s how this started. In shedding the excesses of my habits, I wanted an outlet to weave words meaningfully. I want my words to undulate in sync with my thoughts and emotions. I want to carefully unpack my life’s journey and not document it in a series of rants. So, I write because I miss the old me. This is my rejuvenated writing journey.