Issue #4: On Writing
In This Issue:
Read: Life, writing and notebooks.
Life, writing and notebooks.
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My earliest fascination with writing on paper was cursive writing, I practiced for ages, constantly earning a ‘2nd position in cursive writing’ title in primary school. At that age, writing for me was about getting ahead of my peers. My notebooks back then were dedicated to cursive writing and extracurricular lessons with a personal tutor with a singular goal of arming me with the knowledge that’d crown me ‘queen’ among my peers. My main two identities between the ages of 2 to 10 years old were: a ‘quirky’ person who always had to have her way, and a person who always got good grades.
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I was ecstatic about attending a boarding secondary school, until a plate of cold rice greeted me on my first day, along with multiple conflicts with myself and my environment. Writing on paper saved me, I resorted to writing poems, questioning the school’s motto, “Home away from home.” I disagreed with the motto.
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When I had conflicts, I wrote stories about them, one of which got me beaten in the field, in front of many people. Side note: Despite being aware of my unimpressive fighting skills, I started it. Lesson: Don’t fight in public (ideally don’t fight in private too), especially if you can’t handle it.
[Photo Credit: Canva]
Writing on paper then, was also about ‘Slum Books.’ We’d write the same questions on every page of our chosen notebook, then share the notebook among our classmates to fill: best colour, best food, address, phone number, best song, best teacher, etc. Instead of using the slum books to learn about each other, we took the phone numbers and designated our summer holidays as prank call holidays. What a wonderful miracle it would be, to find one of those slum books, just to see the people we thought we were and who we ultimately flourished into.
As I got older, my interactions with paper, beyond my studies became dedicated to scrap books. I used my notebooks to glue cut out images of shoes, bags and clothes from teen magazines, along with horoscopes, funny stories, quizzes, etc. In the same notebooks, I wrote down song lyrics with coloured gel pens, in love with the rhythm but oblivious to the meaning behind the words.
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I wanted to be the celebrities in those teenage magazines, so much so, my friends and I pondered the possibility of creating a band (none of us could sing). We settled on starting a magazine, but that dream quickly dissolved when one of us decided to go solo.
My later secondary school years defined a shallow and materialistic period. I was beginning to ponder my identity beyond my grades and how difficult I could be – at home. I never took my ‘difficulty’ outside my home. Something’s are best suited for our family’s unrelenting patience and tolerance. (Be kind to your family.)
Post secondary school, I became addicted to purchasing pretty notebooks with floral and exotic exteriors. I bought more than I needed, piling them up, and convincing myself that they’d come in handy someday. When someday came, I agonised over which notebook to use, and if the information I wanted to inscribe in the pages were worthy enough.
[Photo Credit: Canva]
Post university, my addiction with notebooks hasn’t ceased. But their usage has evolved or has gone back to my foundation: writing on paper to get ahead. My notebooks are home to my stories (fiction, non-fiction), ideas, to-do-lists, research on the many topics that fascinate me – history, sustainability, entrepreneurship, Islamic finance, etc.
My notebooks over the years have been reflective of the person I was and the person I am trying to be. They have been physical proofs of my goals and passions. They offer the clearest definition of my life. Their unfinished pages are proofs that I’ve tried, that I am trying.
I am back to basics – scribbling and hoping that I would become someone worthy of applause someday.
I love this . . . it's amazing how writing drives us and changes us . . and is pleasurable!