is this the only way out?
he teared up and looked up above
i tried to hold back his memories
but they flew away along with his love
don’t worry about losing
i held his face in me and let him be
if it happens it happens
someday it will be you and me
all along this time and space
we will find him through night and day
even when we are six feet under
our love will stand brave, and
forever, stay.
his pulse is
a constant struggle
between
making himself
happy
and
making his
happiness
real.
you
don’t need to
lay down
a map
and show me
with your
manicured finger
who
you are.
i can tell
from your
eyes.
I began my study at FCC (CodeCamp) on December 17, 2015. I studied my ass off and 290 days later on October second I was employed as a web developer with Verizon.
I came from the gutter. When I began I had not a penny to my name, no income whatsoever, and I was living at my in-laws’ house, and had no idea where my life would go.
Now I make more money than 90% of Americans. Not to brag, though. I give my money to my misses because she’s never had anything and has always been so deserving. I give my money to my mum because she has never had anything nice. I pay my brother over $1,000 a month to study at FCC so that he too will be able to enjoy life one day.
I’m 100% broke half way through each pay period because I found something I love doing so much that I don’t want for anything anymore, and don’t even care to keep money in my pocket. I just want to code and see to it that those that do yearn for more can have a chance to at it.
So yeah, “me me me me me, look at me”. I did it. And I’m not telling you this so that you idolize me or think “wow, that dude is rich” or “that dude is a great guy.” I tell you this because I want you to know it is possible. I don’t want you to quit because the dream seems unattainable.
I’ve seen it dozens of times. Don’t be a statistic, friend! Be a success.
That’s all it is.
Few minutes ago, a funny thing happened.
I was applying for full-time jobs, maybe even a little worried at the back of my head if I’d get one on time or not. I don’t get stressed out usually. And I’m still not, but yes I was concerned.
Was.
Not anymore.
Why?
Because I saw this on Instagram from one of the people I follow on there:
“Life is fucking crazy, yo. Today’s doctor appointment confirmed my health issues are possibly ovarian and cervical cancers.”
And she posted an ultrasound of the 5 inch wide mass of cancer growing inside her.
Fuck. And I was worried about getting a job.
It’s all how you look at things I guess.
I like the way you started. A book in process. Just write whatever comes in your mind, and have them organized later. For me, I have pieces here and there in my computer, in my notebooks. I finally put all the digital pieces in the same file, but paper pieces… I have to find. Thank you for following my blog. My daughter just called and wanted to do a joint publication of a book. We have to think of a format. Anyway, I’m thinking as I am writing to you. How about that? Let’s check on each other’s progress and hopefully see each other’s books in the market.
Let me start today with a little bit of history.
My personal history.
Or to be more precise, my writing history.
I started writing when I was in 6th grade. Or maybe 5th. Not really sure. It has definitely been a while. And the reason why I started was a girl who used to sit next to me and she had written 4 lines one day which rhymed, and to me as a 5th grader, reading those lines was like magic.
THEY RHYME!
Don’t wanna exaggerate here but my whole world kind of changed. Those four lines sounded beautiful, and it occurred to me that if she can write that, why can’t I? So next couple of months, I spent reading several stories and started translating them into poem-like form, so that they rhyme every alternate sentence.
For me, that was quite an accomplishment at that age.
For everyone else that I showed it to, it wasn’t.
Most of them didn’t get it and probably thought I was wasting my time doing things that no one else was doing.
And this has carried on for my whole life and still does with most of the things I do.
But I’m a stubborn kind. So I said, fuck them. I’ll keep on doing what I like to do.
And that’s pretty much how I learned everything.
Growing up in a place where creative endeavors were limited to only painting in classrooms as a part of curriculum wasn’t particularly easy when you have a knack of doing things that are considered “different”. But having family and friends who didn’t discourage that was a big plus.
And years down the lane, a funny thing happened.
It’s okay to be different now.
It’s okay to learn tennis when everyone else is playing cricket.
It’s okay to play guitar when everyone else is spending their time on the streets.
It’s okay to write and express when everyone else is being everyone else.
And it couldn’t have made me any prouder when I found out how my younger sister picked up on these things and started pursuing what she likes to do. Maybe this is a common thing for you to happen around you or in your family, but trust me when I say this, as a brother, there’s no bigger feeling than seeing your younger sister have the guts to follow what she wants.
Here’s one of her poems she sent me few days ago. I read it and it instantly took me back many years ago when I used to write and not show it to anyone because I was so sure they wouldn’t get it. Or maybe I was just scared of what they’ll think of it.
And to anyone reading this who’s afraid of sharing any personal art, whether it’s paintings, writing, music, anything in public for whatever reason, let me tell you something. You’re way better at it than you think you are. And you’re not gonna find that out until you do it. So please, just do it. Thank you.
“More, I discover this outside world,
I feel connected to it,
Everything swirled,
Preserved each bit,
More, I discover these people,
I open up,
They, Extremely treacle,
I, can’t hold up…”
Go follow her here: https://akshitatyagi11blog.wordpress.com/
Some days I can conquer the world.
Other days it takes me 3 hours to convince myself to bathe.
To all those reading this,
Thank You.
I bought a journal last year.
Decided to write in it everyday.
But who was I kidding?
Being me, I barely wrote in it.
Days passed. Then weeks. And then months.
Sometimes I’d open it, my journal, and just sit there scribbling with my pencil,
no idea what to write.
Other times, I’d actually write something good.
A poem. A story. About people and things they do.
To-do lists. Different ideas. Plan of action. Elevator pitches.
More to-do lists.
Checking them off. Highlighting important stuff.
And the year went by.
And then just like that, time’s up.
One day, I stopped.
The lists were still incomplete. More poem were to be written. More stories to be told.
More plans to be made.
Fuck.
I sighed, and went back to the very first page.
In big bold letters, it was written “BREATHE”.
I closed the journal, and looked outside the window.
The sun was beautiful.
I looked at the sun and said,
“It’s not that hard. See I’ve completed another trip around you.”
Life in a blog 