Month: December 2013

The Secret Life of Strangers

Hidden amongst the social media platforms, etsy stores & movie-sharing hubs that is the Internet, there exists a not-so-secret collection of secrets. Post Secrets, to be specific. The blog is only one page long, and every few weeks or so, Frank Warren releases a new series of 30 or so handwritten postcards by strangers all across the world, each revealing a poignant, painful or pointless secret that they’ve hung onto for years. It all started back in the November of 2004 when Frank printed 3,000 postcards and left them to the public, inviting everyone to share their secrets. In the November of 2010, I discovered a lovely, hard cover book at my local bookshop. The first page read: PostSecret, extraordinary confessions from ordinary lives. And that was it, I was hooked. I read the whole book that afternoon, flipping through the pages and systematically imagining and misimagining the stories behind each secret. You always read about how therapeutic it is to finally let go of a secret, but no one ever tells you how cathartic …

On Mourning

In the past two days, the topic of death has come up too many times for comfort. My mind is no stranger to thinking of death, in fact, it is quite a preoccupation of mine. I don’t mean that in a suicidal, or homicidal way, far from it; I am just overwhelmingly afraid of it. So naturally, it’s all I can think about sometimes. Today marks 100 days since my Grandfather passed away, and today we went to visit him. My Grandmother placed her handbag on the floor and sat in front of his stone for half an hour, weeping. And slowly, almost quietly, she lay down like I imagine she did fifty years ago, next to him on her side, one arm resting on him. There she stayed for an hour, until it started to rain. Up until today, I never really thought much dealing with death. Sure, I thought about being dead, and I thought about dying. But I never really thought about how people mourn death because, except my Grandpa, no one …

On Starting

Two weeks after I secured the URL to this blog, picked a theme & wrote its description, I sat on a train ride home from a really great day in the sun and wondered to myself: “Why on Earth have I not started writing in it yet?” It wasn’t that I had writer’s block; in the past year I have written enough down to fill 5 and a half notebooks. No, the problem was starting something new and something public, sharing what I had spent too long keeping to myself. Starting something is not difficult in theory, but what people forget to tell you is that starting something simultaneously means ending something else, and it’s the ending something that is going to get to you, every single time. Starting this blog petrifies me, because it simultaneously ends my fantasy with what I imagined it to be. You see, I recognise now that I spend a large majority of my time thinking about any time but the present. I like to re-live past events, and moreover I …