Blink. Blink. Blink.
The cursor stared at me like a reprimanding elder. I stared back, begging for time. The time had passed. The blog had been overdue two weeks. The blank document held hostage any inspiration that my mind could produce. Blank white space. The kind of white brides dress up in, a mark of new beginnings. But also, the kind of white worn at funerals. Death of ideas, perhaps?
I knew better. My heart had more ideas than my mind could process. It was like solving a murder mystery, there’s a whole mess of ideas but no real answer. How sickening it is to try and converse with blank space hoping it would someday talk back?
“Argh! I’d try my luck later,” I thought as I clicked the window shut and the infuriating blink of the cursor vanished. I had seven other tabs open. Google judging me for my search about dark fantasies, a chatgpt conversation handing me tips on how to take it easy, an unedited reel, a list of my ‘writing ideas’ and ‘filming ideas’, the pdf of ‘Atomic habits’, and the most haunting of them all, my ‘To-be read’ list. It looked ready to attack me through the screen- a tight slap of guilt straight to the face. It’s like a ghost that I see anytime I look over my shoulder. I feel its daunting presence, waiting silently with a silver dagger, ready to stab at the first sign of neglect.
Neglect. Oh crap, I’d almost forgotten. College! A 20-page assignment was due in an hour. I was doomed. I constantly needed to remind myself that I was in college and hadn’t dropped out. (Though I would have very much liked to). Seven hours of pain in the neck every single day, all for that degree- a piece of paper I didn’t believe in. But wait, if the paper was due in an hour, that meant-
I was supposed to be in a lecture right now! Only if I somehow stole Marty Mcfly’s time machine was there any chance I would make it through the day. After riding my bike like the firebolt and cursing at three different traffic lights, I reached the place I wished to leave at the first chance. An hour of convincing the professor to let me hand in the few minutes overdue paper later, I made myself comfortable near the fountain in the lush green campus. Looking around at the beautiful campus(mind you, that’s the only thing I paid thousands every year for), ideas spurred in my mind. I pulled out the spare notebook I always have on me and scribbled random words. Looked like a bunch of codswollop, but I’d refine it into blog posts later. It was a nice way of respecting my own time when no one else did, lectures cancelled and a three hour wait for the sake of a single sign from some random authority.
Wasn’t I supposed to live in a cottage by a stream in the woods and grow my veggies and flowers? Live in peace, chop wood and light fires? Watch the sunrise and breathe in the fresh air and then stare at the streaks of stars in the dark night sky. Help each other out in the tiny cottages set in the woods. Run wild through the unknown paths and wander without being afraid of getting lost.
A loud cackle of laughter from a group nearby brought me to earth. How stupid it is to sit here and listen to people bully someone for the sake of a laugh. The entire system is screwed, isn’t it?
Well, maybe I couldn’t live in the woods, but I surely had a purpose better than slaving away for hours all my life just for some cash. That seems…familiar. Shit! I’d promised myself I’d finish the book by now- Ikigai. My TBR list was surely going to murder me one of these days and then that won’t even be a mystery.
I rummaged my backpack for the book. Congratulations, little Miss I-can-manage-it-all had packed the wrong book. There were still hours to kill, I had no option but to start reading this one. ‘How to steal like an artist’ by Austin Kleon, the blackish cover shouted. Before I knew it, I was a hundred pages in and the concepts drowned out the loud gossips of students around.
“If you have two or three real passions, don’t feel like you have to pick and choose between them.”
Smiling to myself, I highlighted the quote in blue. Why? You might ask. I love pretending being Hermione, using a time turner to bite off more than I can chew. Only, in a world without magic. Juggling dance, my reading goals, writing sessions, social media and filming and college like fire-lit swords, only just staying alive? Not very effici-
Hang on, what was the first thing again?
Dance.
I checked my calendar. “Program at 6pm,” it said.
Oh no, no, no! How could I have forgotten? I had literally been to practise in the morning, before my disaster day officially started. If I didn’t leave right now, I would probably end up with another disaster. So, all those hours of wait for the sign were in vain and there was no way I could get it done today? Argghhh!!
I swore under my breath and ran to the parking and flew back home in an extraordinarily scary timespan. Thanking God for saving me from an accident I started dressing up. A whole mess.
After redoing my liner for the third time and giving up on it, I finally left. So, how was the program? What do you expect, another mishap? Thankfully, it was all okay. I hope. Though I did trip over my saree once, I laughed it off. Exhausted, I sat stepped back in the mess I had left in the room when dressing up. Not a thing would be moved for atleast a few days, I knew it.
My bones were weary but the faith stood unbroken. Mustering up the courage to film at-least one reel before bed, I started searching for a script.
The theme music of Lord of the Rings grew louder and louder as faint light streamed in the window. 5.30am, it read.
Fantastic! I’d fallen asleep with the script idea waiting to be found. What a chaos. Chaos is really the hyperactive partner that follows oneself along the journey of Art. That being said, I woke up to dive into another chaotic day.
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