Onomatopoeia

Observe those birds

I don’t find a way to avoid the ambiguity, my mind is trying to fake through out any kind of process.

All my life, I’ve always believed that there are some with acquired talent and there are some with natural talent and immense ability to grasp things. Whenever, the comparison wave hits the island, I end up getting myself on the other side. The other side where I am someone who is trying to acquire the talent I don’t have. Because, I have a black tape over my eyes of a blind belief that I can learn anything and everything. Whenever I try to compare myself with someone, it gets harder and harder to justify why I always undermine someone’s effort by thinking that they have natural talent. When I say this, I don’t mean to defy on my opinion that there exists the separation of natural and acquired talent. But, for some reason, I am not able to convey what my mind is trying to write here.

Growing up, I was always full with interests. A lot of teachers complained that I am a very hyper-active kid. Once a teacher asked if I eat a lot of chocolates. I used to feel like saying, “Yes, should I make a cut on my hand with sharpener blade ? So, that you can lick the chocolate flowing”. I always yearn towards wanting Misery. I’m not sure but my hunch about that kind of behavior of mine is probably because I want people to go a bit less harsh on me sometimes. I just feel cowardly about myself and that music in my mind is just beautifully melodic.

Growing up, I always wanted to learn everything in front of me, it was all natural. I never knew the fact that I want to learn everything. It was sheer immaturity in the thoughts and the ballad. it was always good to not be self aware, being self aware is a jail in itself. Your mind becomes the asshole neighbor who knocks you every now and then because it knows the state of your mind and what you’re thinking. Sometimes, I think way too much about some events coming up and I think about how everything should be going. I pick up my brush pen, ink, micron pens and start drawing the theoretical complexion. I feel like an artist, but the one who keeps on failing every single day with no reasons to be proud of anything ever.

I am attempting to talk about the same thing again. The thought of being blind about your goals. The thought of being unknown to the unknowns. The state where you don’t know about anything going around you and on the outer side of the box. Being unknown and blind about your abilities is really a very unexplored section of a human. The person who knows what to do, always performs poorer than the person who doesn’t know what the goal or impact has to be. To the reader, this is going to sound like a sentence on the whim, but try to think about it.

For example, I hate it when you know or you have heard from someone that you are doing good. That is where things go wrong, you don’t need to know what’s good, you just have to know how to wake up the next morning and do it again with modifications. In this world of elitism, every single day all the other rats are talking about “improving” the whole time. No one ever asks, why do they have to improve only towards the betterment, why can’t they go back, bring an older version of theirs and try to shove off the negatives and find something new out of it ?

Time carries the weight of you at all times. I was a hobbyist blindly learning a lot of things, I had the gift of time throughout my childhood and parents who were as enthusiastic as me for the most part. When I was 14, I always wondered about my 4 hobbies of which I wanted to pursue all of them as a career, when I reached 16, I started questioning about how I am going to choose the 1. After a lot of months of thinking and procrastinating, I let time handle things for me. Because, time does not have to do anything other than just passing away. And with time, out of 4 a lot of my hobbies got dropped. I stopped playing flute suddenly after an incident, I never felt like touching flute again. I stopped playing tabla because working in a NGO felt more exciting. I dropped the dream of being a soccer player because a hip injury took control over the fear in my mind. I did not touch the ball for 6 solid years after that. I woke up one day and stopped drawing. Everything in my life was just surviving for only months, if not monthly, a couple of years.

If I want to sit and analyze those years of mine, I won’t hesitate to call it “the sheer failure of curiosity”, because it was the death of hobby the day curiosity for it was dead inside me. Probably, self awareness again has a role to play here. I am coming from praising self-awareness to feeling like self-awareness is a spell cast onto my mind. And I just can’t exorcise or free myself from it. The moment I am enjoying something, my mind quickly starts imagining the future, and that is the moment when I’m the most demotivated. The fear starts rising inside and the thoughts of pseudo-perpetuity of the curiosity begin. I don’t know want to know, that I’m doing good in life or whatever in the fiddlers fart it is. I just want to be blind. One does not need validation, feedback or a pat on their back when they themselves are happy and have the feeling of joy with what they are doing.

Because of the imagination, all I’m left within myself is just some senses. The way music and strings march like a parade in multiple directions when I close my eyes. Or the way I’m trying to copy a caricature is just all small traces left from those guitar strings I let time break violently. All the birds are do, is just sit on the electric wires outside the window and stare at me.

Why call this “Onomotopoeia” ?

The title just came to my mind and I started writing about it. The word is ambiguous to my ears, the moment when the idea hit my mind, I was feeling very complex and confused. The word made sense for that mental state and hence I respected the idea like always. If you were able to hear me while reading, then there’s no point in explaining the “Why”.