This I Knead

No way out, but in. (It's a pun.) Is your promiscuity getting you all knotted up?  Whether it's with humans, food, or with your words, most of your promiscuity is a survival trait of lonely souls. There are elements of life that we tend to feel are too much to handle so we find securities. For some that security comes in the form of bulky arms or a heaving breast. For some this security comes in wolfing down and inhaling the formula to indigestion, heartburn and obesity. For some this security comes from filling the world with words. The latter tend to be the most popular and we veil ourselves as poets, politicians, artists, but never as lonely liars. I happen to be one of these promiscuous people, I whore myself through language. My linguistic freedom may be misconstrued as informedness, intelligence, aptitude or being articulate, but in it's truest form it is the child of loneliness. Loneliness is not the evil here, it is a fundamental part of the human conditi...

“It’s impossible to maintain any significant level of embarrassment for a long period of time. You simply succumb.” That phrase played through his mind like the echo of waves in a shoreline cave. Each time he heard it it would layer upon itself enveloping its own beginnings and ends. Would he believe it though? It had been too long since he had the kind of mind that was willing to believe, he was now simply going through the motions of a prescribed coping mechanism. Four months prior to finding himself sitting on the edge of an icy bench clothed in ice, Marcus was a negligible speck on the University of Wisconsin campus. A native of the state of New York, he didn’t care much for notoriety or popularity. To be completely honest he just couldn’t be classified as anything but Marcus. The political science student attended his lectures religiously and when he wasn’t studying he’d be found seated behind a computer in the student resource centre where he volunteered. This sense of comf...

Stepping into the kitchen to find the tools to write a letter was a quizzing experience. I must say that in this day and age of emailing and text messaging, it is rather difficult to write letters. I found myself having to find ways of expressing my feelings through words rather than emoticons and abbreviations. Writing the letter felt like a good way to get into this blogging experience. I found ways of expressing genuine emotion without the frugality of excessive metaphors and sweeping statements. I am rather excited to tackle other forms of writing that I rarely do. I am temporarily filled, and the sweet taste of emotion served as great dessert. Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead.

"I think of myself as something of a connoisseur of procrastination, creative and dogged in my approach to not getting things done."  - Susan Orlean Much like most people I know, I know this is about to cast a damning shadow on the company I keep, I have developed a wonderful knack for procrastination. I had to come down to the diagnosis that, however non-professionally backed it may be, I am daunted by my own genius.  As the Susan Orlean quote above so aptly puts it, I am a connoisseur. One with a refined taste for something. My something happens to be caused by my human condition. The fine placement of being a hippy at heart (#HAH - this will be a trend, I promise), an artist, having an overactive imagination and always setting tasks for myself to do albeit all at once; these are what have helped me refine my procrastination.  I am no stranger to grand tasks but as I found myself reading an entry on askmen.com titled   Top 10: Habits That Make...