Rumination 2

I am a writer, not so I can present my woes to the world and expect sympathy; but because I am not alone in the emotions that bombard my mind. My job isn’t to die in happiness springing from fulfillment, it is to shine the mirror on the world, and perhaps find my niche. Nor is it my right to claim I alone writhe in the sorrow of the world; because I don’t.


“The world owes you nothing, it was here first,” – Mark Twain

0

Masquerade

We come into the world bared for all to see, gifted with those certain instructions survival of the fittest deemed important enough to pass along. As we pass through this life, we gather experiences. These experiences shape our reactions; they are our masks.
We all have them. A mask for our families, a mask for our friends, for our acquaintances, our enemies, strangers, our pets, ourselves. Personalities, we would call them. If you think carefully enough, are we really the same around our friends as we are around our families, or co-workers? Are we even the same around our parents, as we are around our siblings?
We have no concrete personality, we rifle between them as one would shuffle between masquerade masks; picking the right one for each and every situation.
So what is our true face? Has the world hardened our usually temporary masks to the point where we can no longer recognize ourselves? Have we buried the truth so deep that we can’t even find it anymore? Will we ever escape this masquerade long enough to see our true faces? If they even exist.

There is a wall
Where shadows come to rest
There is a well
Where wishes come abreast.

It’s hidden behind the thorns.
It’s protected by the gates.
It’s an honor you must earn.
It’s a want you must forsake.

You’ll have to dig up the truth
You’ve worked so hard to bury.
You’ll see who you are,
Or you’ll scoff and move along.
-AJ Sandhu
5

Quiet Days

Somedays are just silent. Nothing but the hum of your computer harmonizing with the buzz of the refrigerator to keep you company. It’s nice to write on these types of days. You’re not lost in the haze of activity; you get to slow down for a moment and see the breathtaking beauty of the world. You get to be awash in description, and nothingness.
Meaningless banter isn’t necessary here, lost in your own mind, wandering from one place to the next, with little to no hope of stopping. Yet it’s a slow craw through the thicket of the mind. A lazy gait through the forgotten worlds of yesteryear. You accomplish so much by doing so little.
1

Into My Own

This is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago called “Into My Own.”
Never wanted to say,
Now the words have faded away,
Like childhood memories,
All the things I needed to say.
We’ve been drifting apart
For so long
You didn’t see it
Till I was long gone!
Now we’re standing here,
No apologies strong enough,
No repentance heavy enough,
To mend these broken bridges.
We were never brave enough,
To admit we were wrong,
To admit we never belonged,
We never should have held on!
How can you know?
Of this ache inside my soul?
How can you see?
When I never let you near me?
How and why?
Are you drawing me down,
Into my own,
Into my own…
-AJ Sandhu
3

Red Sunsets

We’ve had one every year for the past nine years. Well I’ve only been aware of them for the past nine years anyway.
The first time I saw one I was certain something was about to happen. I did not know if it was a harbinger of good or bad occurrences, but I did know I was fascinated with it.
I was inspired to write the first few pages of a three part series. It was one of my favorites, it still is. It was the first of many books that made me dig deep into a place I was certain I could hide behind smile after smile. So deep, I wouldn’t even remember what the truth was anymore.
It’s not really as dark as I make it seem, but the stench of pain still lingers.
I noticed the red sunsets one cold midsummer’s day in India, when all of my preconceived notions of family and tradition lie shattered around my feet. Childhood fantasies torn asunder.
Yet, I find them so beautiful, those stunning red sunsets, messengers of long buried memories. You see I was right, you can bury the truth so deep that even you don’t recognize it anymore.



The Play

What are you hiding from,
I wonder.
What are you running from,
I wonder.


Are they the hallowed vows
Of yester-year?
Or the wistful boughs
Of dreams lost in fear?


Could you pause for a moment?
Could you linger for a minute?
I would hold your hand,
If only for a second.


What do you hear
I wonder.
What do you fear
I wonder.


Are they the words
Of the one you’ve forsaken?
Or the wrath
Of the one you left, broken


Could you hold still?
I want to memorize your face.
I want you to take part in this farce.
I want you to play my part.
-Aman J. Sandhu
0

Rumination 1

So I haven’t really been on Facebook in about two and a half weeks. I haven’t died, I’m not ignorant of the world, and I’m definitely not insane. Which makes me think all of this “social media helps us stay in touch” stuff is crap. Only a handful of my friends follow me on twitter (handful is generous, 8 MAX), and for all anyone else knows, I could be dead.
It’s nice to see how many times I’VE been the one to start conversations with the people I supposedly love, and how few of them care about me. To the ones who do care, thank you, seriously, you guys deserve better than me.
My point is, that in this mad rush to make ourselves feel important we’ve forgotten that we need to make others feel important too, especially those who take the time out of their days to make us feel better about ourselves. Even if it is a birthday reminder on Facebook that prompts us to do so.
Would you like to know how many happy birthdays I got on my birthday last year through any form of communication (text, phone call, facebook, twitter, email, snail mail, ect)? Nine. Nine out of my 250 so called “friends” on facebook. NINE including the 4 other members of my family. NINE, and five of those nine only happened AFTER I told them it was my birthday. So I’m not expecting much this upcoming birthday. Do you know how many people I said happy birthday to? Everyone I could get a hold of, in my “Old English” style so it stood out from all the other half-hearted “Happy Birthdays.”
So yeah, I’m a bit bitter. But I’ll be fine, because I’m perfectly fine with having fair weather friends, so long as you’re fine with being the same. I’ll end with this; a question for you that an old video game once asked me;

“Do you have friends? Do they consider you a friend?”
-Legend of Zelda; Majora’s Mask
0

Foggy Days

Everything passes as if in a haze; blanketed by the gloom of the persistent gray fog. From the haze, if you look hard enough, you can explore the secrets of another world. Quite frankly, I hate the fog. I’ve been wanting to go to our local ice cream shop for the past week and a half, but no, it has to be too cold for that, without any hope for the sun to shine through. I’d go to the local coffee shops but there are far too many “writers” there. The act of writing should be personal. I like locking myself in my walk in closet and writing by the dim glow of a reading light. I know, weird, but if we weren’t weird we wouldn’t be writers.

I like the darkness. The reason we fear the darkness is because we don’t know what could be hiding away in it; but I flock toward it. In the darkness I find my most inspiring characters. I’m not telling you to go write in the dark, though it might be fun to watch… The most personal of my characters was born in the dark. Their world formed out of the fog of my imagination.

So I guess I owe the fog, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. If anyone read this madness to the end the lesson is; I still want my ice cream.
0

New Blog

Well then. I’ll probably be updating this blog with the same posts has my other blog, so I’m sorry readers you’re not more special than the people on my other blog.
These will probably just be the insane ramblings of a bored writer. When my book comes out it’ll probably be more lively, but for now you’ll have to deal with the far and in between mundane of a writer avoiding her editing. In a few months you’ll  have to deal with the constant and mundane. Think of it!
I’ll probably be posting a lot of things that have to do with my book when I have more to tell, and I’ll try and answer any and all questions I may get about anything that I post.
So…yeah… 
0

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑