Scarred

Scars I wear as medals and memories as reminders of beauty. Looking back, I find the power to move ahead. The trouble somehow seems to be worth it after all.

i ramble too much

Ever since I was a little girl, I've been writing. I wrote silly stories at first and then prosaic poems that always rhymed and then I got on to keeping a diary in which I still write occasionally. I write about how I feel, what I want to do with myself, what I think is right and wrong (there are a fair few of these ). Writing for me has always been a way of communicating with myself. Things don't suddenly untangle themselves,but writing helps me cope with things.I guess therefore, in many ways, writing has been a very personal thing for me. Then came my blog. Initially, I was really excited about finding a new way of writing. But then, after posting a few rather badly written pieces, I realised I couldn't write when I knew there would be others reading what I write, even if it was just my sister. So why am I writing now? Truth be told, I don't know myself. Guess I just want to say something. And may be even be heard.
I'm in love. In love with learning. I'm in college now. A place where there is ample opportunity to learn for those who do want to learn. The past three weeks have probably been the most intensive learning period of my life. I've learnt about the social contract theory, about the theory of customs unions, about void contracts; I've also learnt from a woman in a little town in Karnantaka who wants to get back community land from powerful panchayat members so that the kids in her town can have a play gorund and women a place to form a union; I've learnt that there are people who share my love for learning. I guess I just wanted to confess my love out loud for once and where better and how better?