Digging Deep | An Experiment Of Sorts

Any body who knows me, knows that I’m a sucker for deep thoughts and meaningful conversations. And somehow, thankfully, I was able to find two such idiots to share this obsession with. Therefore, I thought of asking them some thought provoking questions, to see their reactions and understand them better. Because, obviously, I had nothing better to do. It was kind of like my own personal experiment and the two idiots were my lab rats.

Continue reading Digging Deep | An Experiment Of Sorts

11th October, 2016

The previous week was kind of very depressingly monotonous. I was demotivated almost throughout the whole week, I didn’t feel good, I didn’t perform well in a test I had on Sunday and I was just sad. I kept comparing myself to everyone else; comparing my failures to their successes because I’m a bloody buffoon. Last week, basically, wasn’t nice.

Continue reading 11th October, 2016

“Yes, my consuming desire is to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, barroom regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all this is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always supposedly in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yes, God, I want to talk to everybody as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night…”

― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Quote Calling | East Of Eden

He clothed his motives in the names of virtue, and I have wondered whether he ever knew that, no gift will ever buy back a man’s love when you have removed his self-love.

~John Steinbeck, East Of Eden

Hope Is A Thing With Feathers – Reconstructed | NaPoWriMo

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches loosely onto the withered soul
And sings a melodious tune
Without the need of tough words
Nor meaning, this sweetest sound,
Seems endless like the curling of tides
With much rhythm but no reason
In the harsh gale is heard.
Sorely greedy must be the storm
That could dare to abash the little bird
That kept so very many undead corpses warm
And resurrected them anew.
So ruthlessly greedy must be the storm
That it took away the music which
I’ve heard in the chilliest land and
On the strangest sea
Which yet, never  in extremity
Asked a crumb of me.

emily dickenson

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NaPoWriMo April 2015 Day 5 prompt:   Today’s exercise asks you to do something similar, but in the interests of creativity, rather than ill-conceived “correction.” Find an Emily Dickinson poem – preferably one you’ve never previously read – and take out all the dashes and line breaks. Make it just one big block of prose. Now, rebreak the lines. Add words where you want. Take out some words. Make your own poem out of it!

The poem I chose is called ‘Hope’ is a thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson 

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Did you like it? Did you not like it? Was it reconstructed enough or just copy pasted? Let me know what you think about it. Have a splendid day y’all!