My inspiration for posting usually stems from my lack of confidence or inability to cope with any current mental state that I am in. In other words, one of extreme distress. But if you do look through some of the greatest literary works the most interesting or famous ones arise out of society’s reduced awareness of destructive behaviors or incredibly intense passions. Tell Tale Heart, Frankenstein, 1984! Not that I’m comparing myself to the writers of these works but I honestly believe the best writing is a result of such typed tragedies. And frankly I’ve been fairly happy and content with my life. And I’m finally able to take many self-loathing thoughts and toss them aside. For some reason, this makes me less motivated to write as I don’t need an outlet for my happiness. Also there is the issue of finding time to post. My time is quite limited between my job, class, homework hours, and extracurriculars. As of this semester I am a part time worker at my university’s call center, the public affairs of a student association, the historian of another, an active member of other clubs, a full-time student and friend, etcetera etcetera etcetera. This requires lots of running around.
Yet, I feel so guilty. I love blogging and sharing my experiences. I miss sitting down with a cup of tea in silence with only thoughts of how I am going to present these stories in my head. And I really do have so much to present. I’ll be using my next few posts to talk about the many adventures I’ve had since I Ramadan began. But here is just a peek: