April 19, 2014 § Leave a comment

These things seem so redundant. Regardless of how meticulously I craft this post to perfectly represent the essence of my being and the consequent “tone of the blog”, I know I’m going to hate it on the third or fourth time I glance back at it – let’s be honest, I’d probably think myself a witty bastard upon immediate rereading.

For the sake of functionality, this post should, I guess, pertain to its title.

The how and why of this enterprise lies mainly in the less than spectacular realisation a couple of days ago, when it dawned upon me that despite the chaos of senior year and the obvious rationale of not starting a blog, it was exactly the messiness of this year that made it imperative that I have enough external manifestations of myself to keep me tethered in the wildest buffets.

With how much information everyone volunteers online, it has become dangerously easy to sit back and pass judgment, justifying petty insecurities with the comfort that my brilliance, unlike others, is internalised in copious amounts. This serves as a simplistic checks and balances system, challenging my passions to speak for themselves, to reach out and grab their toughest critic when read past the heat of the moment – me!

As of now, the framework for said passions would encompass art, writing, literature, music, musings, inspiration, and the shadowy crevices of my own ridiculousness.

Oh, and before the countless foreseeable cycles of impulsively changing my blog title to reflect different emotional states and being disgusted at my pretentiousness, I’d like to formally acknowledge this one. In the comic “Injustice: Gods Among Us”, Harley Quinn asks the Green Arrow why his cave isn’t called “The Quiver” instead of the Arrow Cave, leading him to grudgingly agree that that, in fact, was better.

Nocturnal, largely associated with darker inclinations, soaring when no one can see and perhaps too alert, I quite fancy my thoughts as bats. While that may be a slightly tortured metaphor, perhaps even a laughable attempt at angst, I do. Seeing as this aims to be the still point in a spinning world, where my thoughts come to roost, it seemed perfect to apply Harley’s excellent naming skills to my own bat cave sans Alfred – The Belfry.

I hope that you can hear my voice in my writing.


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