This is a collection of spontaneously written, un-edited posts, serving as a personal online journal of a sort. I'm on a quest to decipher reality from illusion, and in the process, understanding the depth of my madness (or sanity). English is my third but favorite language. This is real and often very raw - read at your own discretion.
Tuesday, June 29, 2021
Damsel in distress, tomboy to hero
Wednesday, June 16, 2021
Propagation
I discovered the world of plant propagation a while ago. Spring is a good time to plant, re-pot, and surely, propagate. I was busying myself potting a newly purchased Pothos plant few weeks ago, only to discover it was infested with some insects. I panicked not knowing whether it's a normal thing or not. In that very moment I cursed my mother. I remember saying in my head passages that would do for a blog post. "This week, I cursed you twice my mother. First time for never growing plants, and the second time for never showing me how to grown plants, let alone deal with such a plant growing problem as bug infestation. This blog post isn't about plants, or bugs. It's about a very deeply rooted issue, with the mother in my life, and my mother. More on that soon." And then I brushed the thought away. I googled the problem and it turned out to be a more or less common thing. I didn't read about the treating the problem part, hands were busy and dirty, I followed my instinct instead, cleared the plant totally from the old soil, took away all the bugs, and seperated it into several different parts. I divided it in two pots. I used a healthy new mix of soil, cleaned the leaves, watered it, and put it in a nice bright area. The next morning it looked very green and happy, and new baby leaves started to sprout very shortly after.
More about propagating later, I'm feeling very dizzy and tired, nothing new these days. But I will post what the dictionary define propagation:
"noun: propagation
- 1.the breeding of specimens of a plant or animal by natural processes from the parent stock."the propagation of plants by root cuttings"
- reproduction by natural processes."hunting regulations ensure the propagation of the species"
- 2.the action of widely spreading and promoting an idea, theory, etc."a life devoted to the propagation of the Catholic faith"
- 3.transmission of motion, light, sound, etc. in a particular direction or through a medium."the propagation of radio waves through space"
- 1. نشر
- 2. انتشار
- 3. توالد
- 4. تكاثر
- 5. بث
- 6. امتداد
- 7. تفشي
- 8. تناسل
- 9. اتساع
- 10. شيوع
- 11. نماء
Tuesday, June 15, 2021
Monday, June 14, 2021
Sobering up
On my left, the phone is open on my instagram account. I went all the way down to my very first post, dated 10th April 2018. It's a beautiful artistic, yet very simplistic photo of a small journal with a pen on top of it. In the background you could see the pastel wall color, the shade from the curtain above, and the burgundy couch. The caption says: "It was finally time I had my own personal Instagram account. I have been hiding behind the business and work and commitments and responsibilities. But I have now decided to love myself a little bit more. Time for writing."
On my right, a big notebook is open on its first pages, a plan of my first book from the year 2016, and a long list of topics and contents.
If everything I lived has lead me to this very moment where I'm reminded of how much I need to do this writing this, than I am grateful, and dare I say, happy.
I haven't posted anything on my instagram since 24th May. I am usually active, not crazy active, but active. There's a 101 reasons for me wanting and needing to write, yet all I seem to be doing is distracting myself from it. There's pain and a well of things to dig and feel and think out, and through, when it comes to writing. This account and that post, as I remember very clearly, was made to mark a certain passage, an end and a start of a new cycle, where I return to my self expression existence. But what was writing from that? Worlds apart!
It occurred to me this morning just how badly addicted our humanity has become to the so called social media. Instagram hearting, Facebook liking, youtube subscribing (or disliking), tweeting and retweeting, the follows, the likes, the comments, the stories, the reels, the views, the stats, the exposure, the clicking, the instant gratifications, the quick and fast and easy everything, the "content creating"! And boy did I fall into it the trap myself!
Such slavery! Whatever they change, whatever new features they add, or old features they remove, we adjust. We resist at the start, but sure we persist. Such wasted resilience! A whole generation of youngsters are growing with this as the sole medium for self expression. We need to be seen so badly that we have fallen into the trap of the illusion of it happening virtually.
I'm glad I'm sobering up. Instant gratification was never my thing. I need depth, pacing, slow motion, and a lot of pausing too. I need to create with my words pictures, sounds and motion. I need to invite and welcome people into my inner world with the slow pacing of words, and the magic that process creates. I need to express a very intricate world that exists in my mind and soul, with intricate words, and the right pacing.