On What to Expect

I did not end up writing a post on my Blogoversary last year. 30 Dec. It was a time for family with all its jocund festivities, and its blazes of familiar horrors. Anyone who can describe their family otherwise is lying. Besides, I sat down to write an ode to this blog being a home to me for 15 years and I couldn’t find the words. I remember hoping that I never want to become the kind of person who doesn’t celebrate the continual, the consistent, and the commonplace. Usually, I eat ice cream on my Blogoversary and I didn’t do that either, though, a week later I bought myself a pistachio ice cream, specifically asked for it to be covered in crushed pistachios and savoured it for as long as it held on because I had finally nowhere else to be.

Having to be in many places last year was the bane of my existence. I have written here about how difficult the year was, but the shade that it left on me was how much of myself and my time I gave to others, work and otherwise. I do not recommend it. I read on some stray internet poster that one should fill one’s own cup first and let it overflow; the overflow is what one should give to others. I did exactly the opposite (apart from paraphrasing the sentiment badly). So, I started this year with spending time with myself on a vacation I gave to myself on a whim (which was whim-ming for an entire year). I procrastinated so much that I had to do it because I wasn’t able to live with myself anymore.

On the vacation, I spent some time working on the poetry zine my friend OY sent me. I wrote this line expect yourself, and then show up, which I want to turn into my mantra for the foreseeable future. They say that trust is built when someone does what they say, it is built by predictability, by showing what you tell. So it also goes that trusting yourself more means keeping the promises you made to yourself. Any by corollary, it is hard to trust God these days, and your government, obviously.

I wrote three poems while working through the poetry zine OY sent me and then, I realised that I don’t want to confine myself to poems anymore. Most writers my age fell into the trap of writing poetry (apologies, but also none) because its form is easier, length smaller, and for all of social media’s faults, the burgeoning of poetry is not one of them. The internet supported the poetry movement because we live in an attention deficit world. However, when I read Heart of Darkness and Mrs Dalloway last year, my nervous system felt like it had been soothed. This is not to say I will not write poetry, of course, I will. Who doesn’t want to hang words in the form of garlands in their everyday lives? Everyone that’s who. I will experiment with longer formats. I will write essays, stories. That’s what I will do. We’re all going to have to slow down soon enough. I am going to have to slow down soon enough.

Meanwhile: A happy blogoversay to amarllyis! May we all have some ice cream.

Poem 2 from the Poetry Zine Prompt – What to Expect in the New Year

Expect to see your heart inside out in the palm of your hand. Expect to stay young. Expect penury in your creativity. Expect a casually dropped Urdu word in conversation خواب. Expect to be lonely. Expect fruit cake; a different fruit each time. Expect your boss to spill digital ink all over your hard work. Expect chai. Expect an old man to get angry with you. Expect an old woman to straighten you out. Expect to move. Expect your blue jeans to become tight. Expect a crack in your hopefulness. Expect LED dreams in old buses on new highways. Expect derision. Expect mirth. Expect perversion. Expect rebirth. Expect foam on your protein shake. Expect a shooting star. Expect trees in shades of blue. Expect ghosts inside your home. Expect someone to not do their job. Expect screaming. Expect a shared love of cherries. Expect yourself, and then show up.