Friday, 12 April 2013


I’ve been sat here for the past hour typing and erasing entire blog posts to the point of frustration. I didn’t know why I was struggling so much when what made writing so fascinating to me was how intuitive it was. So I have finally decided on what to do; I am going to attempt to gather all my thoughts under a subheading in an attempt to target all the topics that have been bouncing about inside my head.
I’m at a stage in my life where I’m confused. And I’m confused as to what’s confusing me and why. So in an attempt to figure that out, I will write about the things that have been especially on my mind the past few days.

I. Nostalgia
nostalgia |näˈstaljə, nə-|A sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations: I was overcome with acute nostalgia for my days in college.

Lately I’ve been consumed into the past, not my own personal past, but just the world’s past. I find myself infatuated by the image of teenagers – or just people in general – in the 60s – 90s. Perhaps I find their culture intriguing because I haven’t experienced it, but it was just different. There was a lot going on. Outspoken people weren’t scarce, or at least not as scarce as they are now. I guess that’s the main reason I’m amazed and mesmerized by the beauty of that rebellious time period.
Therefore, instead of being caught up in the past, I have found my way to adapt my desires and cravings for a different spectrum of pop culture and that is through my blog. I’ve started this in hopes of getting to know people that feel the same way as I do. People that are intrigued by the honest, the ominous, the pariahs.

II. The Pariahs
A few days ago, it was the 19th anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s death and being an avid and perceptive listener of Nirvana it struck me quite hard to realize just how long it’s been since he took his life away. Being reminded of how powerful and empowering he was to me. Kurt; whose rejection of the mainstream made him even more popular within it. He appealed to outsiders everywhere and he appealed to me.

On the night of his 19th anniversary, I searched the internet for his journals, which were published by his wife Courtney Love (who, infact, was also an icon of power in my eyes, in addition to the vulnerability she possessed mainly by being attracted to such a chaotic industry fueled by inequality towards women.) I finally found the journals and I could feel a spark of exhilaration form in the pit of my stomach.

It was probably the wrong decision to go on a journal hunt at 2 in the morning, because that consequently left me up till the morning, my eyes burning from staring at the screen for hours, but my brain surging with compassion , understanding and desire to have known the writer on a personal basis. He had so much to say and I found myself just rereading some phrases over and over again because I felt like he was reading my mind or writing down my soul’s content.

I aim to truly find myself by the end of this journey. I acknowledge that this post has been all over the place but this has been occupying me for weeks and I just couldn’t wrap my head around my strange cravings to explore the unknown or the rejected.

I feel if I go on any longer, I will begin to ramble and rambling never gets anyone far. So hopefully I will attempt to explain my feelings and thoughts better through the course of this adventure.

*Exhales* I'm so deep, yo.

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