In my line of work, I have to talk to a lot of people everyday. Some are real bitches. I imagine myself stabbing them a thousand times in my mind or pouring gasoline in their filthy mouth and setting it on fire. These images made talking politely to them much easier. However, now and then I'll come across people who are real gems. They inspire and touch your life and they change the way you perceive the world. And so I keep learning new things everyday. New lessons and new stories.
On one such talk a few days ago, I came across a sweet lady writer. She was a retired school teacher who wrote a book containing short stories. She even let me read one of the chapters. And it was something she said that I just can’t seem to forget. She said "I write because no one is free to sit and listen to my stories." Everyone is busy and there's lots of stories she wanted to share.
And I guess that's true for most writers. We write because we want to share our stories. We want to put it out in the world, in hope that someday somewhere someone will read them. The readers don't even have to like what we wrote. We just need someone to read what we have to say.
I'm not a real writer (whatever that means). I'm not dedicated enough to sit and write a book. Or to maintain a routine on what and when to write. I write as I please, when I please, ignoring the expression "please!" from some critics( here by critics I mean my blood relations so I guess it doesn't really count). Anyways, I'm not a serious writer as of now. I'm learning. I'm taking my sweet time to mature and gain life experiences. I'm exploring new paths and options that may sound a little unconventional to people. In short, I'm sinning a lot. Because what I've realized in this past couple of years is that nothing lasts forever (Guns N' Roses were the brilliant prophets if you ask me.)
Yes, Nothing lasts Forever! And so being a saint is a waste of life. All exciting things in life are often a crime. I'm not making much sense now, am I? Must be due to sleep deprivation. I even forgot what was the point of this post. Oh yea, the writers. Well folks, people come people live people die. As long as we're alive we have room to make one more mistake and thereby create one new memory. This is the 100th post of Gracy's Garbage. And I'm just reminding myself why I write. I found there are more than a hundred reasons.