Freedom is just another word.

To start with, I found that my previous blog became rapidly imprisoning. And again, I feel that one's first post must be ceremonious, speak of large ambitions, introduce myself. Since that is the very thing I have begun to despise, I will be myself, be banal and say that it is a Monday evening and my fingers are cheating on my job by typing inanities into the window of a blog that is not read, not yet.

I long to be home in the polluting cooolness of the ac, in the comforting arms of my love.

I once read a book that was written entirely in thought process. Herta Muller's book, whose name I can't recall but somehow chronicled a mind in a totalitarian regime. Sometimes all of us live in totalitarian regimes we have created for ourselves, trapped by our sense of how we think we are- determined by how we think people think of us, fostering the image so hard till it becomes reality.

Sometimes, I burst into tears and my friends or lovers are completely flabbergasted asking me for a reason and sounding bewildered that there is really not one reason. I live so much in my head that I find it weird that what happens in the mind is not as real to other people as it is to me.

How does all this relate, you ask, to the starting of a blog? IT relates because my previous blog quickly got tied to an image of me that I had to adhere to. I had started it 6 years ago but I had to adhere to atleast traces of who I was then. This may not be noticeable to someone who is reading but the point is that it is most apparent to me - the writer.