The above numbers form the basis of every number imaginable.
It is funny how something so insignificant can go such a long way. I mean can you believe a world without these fundamental building blocks.
Mathemtics wouldnt exist. As simple as that.
And only God knows where the world would be without Mathematics. Money would be extinct, civilization would be next to impossible and…….. to be frank I have no other worst case scenario but you get the point.
And the funny thing is we wouldn’t even realise impact of its extinction because that would be the norm. In some world the non-existence of numbers would be normal. Mind blowing.
This just goes to show that the smallest things make the biggest difference.
Deduct a lesson from this text as you please.
Funny enough, I have never been asked this question. I guess it can be attributed to the fact that I tend to conceal all my work.
Apparently it is a common question received by most writers. I thought I would try to tackle it. I already touched on it a bit in my “BIG WORDS” rant but I have this nagging feeling that it wasn’t enough. So here goes.
Imagine a nerdy girl in glasses with a halting stammer, crippling haliostasis and virtually no close friends. That was and is still me. (minus the haliostasis part. HOPEFULLY!!!)
She finds solace in books. All kinds of books. She has mastered the art of reading atleast four to five books a week. Unknowingly preparing herself for her entrance into the blogsphere.
But then one day she reads a book that sparks a fire in her. Like a chemical chain reaction she comes to the conclusion that to be truly free she must do what she loves……write.
By now I think you have realised ‘the unknown girl’ is me. (Please pardon my egoistic undertones.)
I write because it is the best sense of freedom out there.
Where in the real world I am limited by my many badges of honour (my ‘problems’), quite an exaggeration I must add, in the world of diction I am able to freely express myself in the way I see fit.
I am also able to gently prod people to my understanding of life. Giving them an insight into the many intricacies of my brain. This is, I think, is an achievement in itself.
Too often, we are all prone to judge others for their mistakes, forgetting that we oursleves were at fault at one time or another for the same mistakes. Here the ever-popular phrase rings true “To err is to be human ……..”
That is why the need for constant self-examination, the word being constant, is key to the life of a well rounded humanbeing.
We all at some point need to question our actions and their subsequent consequences on not just ourselves but on others and the world in general. We need to sit down and not just relive our mistakes but our accomplishments too and our reactions towards them.
When this feat is effectively accomplished it will contribute to the greater development of our interpersonal and intrapersonal senses. This will lead to a better understanding of others.
This meaning that when we get to know ourselves, flaws included, we become more in tune with the feelings of others.
This does not mean that we should question every step we take, making us insecure in the process. This just means we should humble ourselves enough to look at our mistakes and accomplishments objectively.
I would like to say it was and is a whirlwind of emotions that takes me on a rollercoaster every given day. But it’s not. Or rather a kind of hot or cold effect that leaves me exhausted. It’s not that either.
Rather it’s a silent battle I fight everyday with no end in sight. It’s not the best thing in the world but not the worst either. It doesn’t leave me disillusioned with life or on the brink of suicide. It just gives me a dull frustration that I know will pass, eventually.
On a good day.
But when the stars are in disarray and nothing is going my way. I am left with my thoughts. Which in turn leaves me distraught. Dull frustration now turned into full blown anguish and hatred. Hatred at everything. Irritability is the name of the game and boy am I playing.
I would like to say it gets better as the seconds turn into minutes, the minutes into hours, the hours into days etc.
But I won’t. Because I don’t know yet.
What I do know is to accept it and move on with life because this is my kind of normal .
A lonely girl walks into a room. All eyes stare at her intently, sizing up her next move. Then from the corner of her she sees a guy twitch then another, then another. It gets to a certain point where everyone in the room starts twitchimg.
Sadness overtakes her as she comes to the understanding that they are doing this to humiliate her, to subtly taunt her and to most importantly make her seem odd.
How funny that word is, ODD. To be different from the rest. To stand out of a crowd. Why must this be her cross to bear?
Then the realisation hits her hard. No two people are alike. We are all individualistic in our own unique way. ..
She starts to grin, then smile, then snicker, soon a full-on explosion of laughter errupts from her lips. She can do nothing to help it. She laughs because all she can do is laugh. She laughs at the sheer stupidity of humanity. She laughs to cover her sadness because she comes to the conclusion that most people will never reach this realization.
“All she knows are big words.” “She only knows how to talk.”they say, misled jealousy clearly the route of their anger. Anger at what, only God knows.
But what I know is the feeling the crafting of words to form a beautiful peace of art gives me. It gives me a a sense of euphoria that can only be described as heavenly.
Any passionate writer whether professional or amateur, romance or fiction etc. can clearly empathise with me. For they the few who have been given the gift to write know that it is a feeling like no other.
So yes, I use big words. And no, I am not going to stop. Because to stop would be an almost fatal blunder from which I can never recover. No, I am not exaggerating.
So I guess my final thought is this; Do not give into the hateful envy of the sad mediocre who would rather prefer to use bland words to express themselves rather than full, rich words with deeper meanings which will leave the reader or listener begging for more while giving their mind something to chew on.
Looking at my toes. Reminiscing over the days gone. Finally had the courage to put pen to paper.
I’m doing it the old-fashioned way to give respect to the craft I love best, WRITING.
Writing, Writing, Writing. The magical process of turning a remarkable moment in one’s life into a form of art that can be passed from generation to generation to generation ad infinitum.
To do this as a job you ask, building castles in the air I reply. The doubts start clouding my mind. Thank you for introducing me to my worst enemy, myself.