14

When I was about 14 years old, I was full of youthful thoughts and dreams and hopes and wishes. Like any normal teenager getting to know who they are and what they want from life;starting to build my character and my personality. I was also full of the enthusiasm and passion for writing and manipulating the words on a page or a screen that my parents told me I had, that I knew I had and that my teachers encouraged me to develop. I thought I was the next Charles Dickens or Stephen King.
Anyway, I had this idea that I would write my own book. A book about my life as a Muslim-American teenager living in the post 9-11 world. I would spend years writing it, until I turned 20. I'd write about my experiences, my life, my hopes and my thoughts. I'd write about any and everything, detailing what it was like to be me in that time period. I was naive and young,but I had a dream. I even started writing it. I think I wrote about a chapter or two..but sadly, they're lost. I really would have loved to look back and read about my life then..how I saw the world and my life. Laugh alot probably =).
I think I would have actually managed to make it into a success someway or the other. Who knows? Point is, I always have been and always will be full of these dreams for myself and things I want to achieve before I die, things that I really want to do, even if only once. Yeah,that's me..and you may think it's silly and stupid and "American"..you don't have to tell me. But I believe in those things and think it's possible. I really am full of a LOT of ambition and desire and the drive to do things...the challenge to accomplish stuff and be successful. You know? I'm itching to get out there and DO. No, this isn't naivete..I wouldn't believe it if you told me. Come to think of it, I wouldn't believe anyone. I just want to get out there and show me who I am and show everyone what I can do. 

Chapter One

I'm sitting here watching a program on T.V. about forgiveness and the ability to be kind unconditionally. These are tenets I was raised on and that I believe in completely, but, they are so hard to put into practice. Why?

Why can't we all forgive and go to sleep at night not angry at anyone? Why can't we purge our hearts of hate and backbiting and revenge?  Why is it so important to be the person who "doesnt give in"? It makes no sense.

Forgive.  Forget. Be human.  Forgive.  It won't matter in the end all that hate and anger; when you're too late or too stubborn or too dead.

Sputter Sputter.

Start. Stop. Start start start. Long stop. No this is not the sound of a car engine spluttering to life.This is my blogging attempt,or, rather, my writing career. I seem to have periods where I blog continuously: a flurry of writing , and an undeniable need to make words appear on the screen. Then, there are the long droughts, the abandonment of the screen and the keyboard; the absolute silence.

It is in this absolute silence that I rediscovered my love for writing. My inherent need to form words; my passion for making whatever I wanted to say in my head magically appear either on a piece of paper or on a computer screen. Admittedly, this past year and a half has not been exactly easy for me to just pick up where I left off and write. A new baby will do that to you. However, I did write in my head. Oh I wrote encyclopedias and textbooks and volumes up on volumes of books. I wrote fact and I wrote fiction. The problem is I wrote it all in my head.

I woke up one day, after writing a particularly lovely novel in my head the night before and, I remember thinking "why am I not writing this down or why am I not typing it up? Why am i letting my passion go?" I looked at my daughter and I was amazed at how much my life has changed and yet how much stayed the same. In fact, I now have so much more to write about. My life is rich with content and my brain itches to form the words and the paragraphs that will satisfy me as a writer. You see, I don't write for you, the reader. I write for me. Please don't misunderstand me, you the reader are an extremely important part of my writing. I think of you constantly when I write. "Will the sentence make sense to you?" "Will you be able to understand what I'm saying?" "Where I'm coming from?" These are all questions I ask myself about you the reader. But at the heart of it all I write for me.

Some people have chemistry. Some people have art. Some people don't know what they have yet. I have writing. I love to do it. I want to make my life all about writing. I have never underestimated the power of  words or their importance within our lives. I have always been in awe of words, of books,of writing,of editing and of anything that had to do with putting letters together to form a word and putting words together to form a sentence and putting sentences together to form a paragraph. Somewhat of a powerful feeling knowing that one word  placed correctly in a sentence can make all the difference to the meaning of what someone is trying to say.

So, you the reader, shall hold me to my plans to make myself write at least once a day. A pledge actually. A Pledge to write something somewhere at least once a day about anything: any topic that I choose. You don't have to read it just check in and see if I have written something. Nudge me if I haven't. Remind me that this is what I love to do.