How I began writing (as a hobby)

These days I am thinking about my past a lot. This one isn't necessary a good memory but everything turned out great for me.

And so the back-story begins...
When I was in the 6th std (or so), our school decided to start publishing a school magazine. And like any of the kids who assumed they were good at English, I decided to sign up for the Editorial Team. It was a fad and a very convenient way to miss classes as a truckload of the work they were about to do would happen during school hours. Also I just wanted to fit in with them cause I thought they were cool.

The teacher in charge held a sort of test by which she would shortlist a few students from the rest to actually be part of this team.
We had to write an imaginary essay on "I got stuck in an elevator and...". 

Now, I wrote a good essay (My 10 year old self thought). But I guess my good wasn't good enough  to them. And then, the next day or so.....the results came in. I didn't get selected.

The way they rejected me also was terrible. All I remember was.....that teacher and 2 or 3 students grinning and telling me that...."No, you're a dreadful writer and you've not been selected for the editorial team."

I was embarrassed, disappointed and greatly angry at them. 
So I decided that I would start writing a personal diary. And I did. Every time I saw those girls go for their editorial team work and saw them happily postponing their work for cracking jokes...I wrote my envy and jealousy down in paper. The editorial team was like the elite class of school and I was the peasant. It was like my world fell apart. 


But I continued writing in my diary. It's been half a decade since I first started. 
Reading through my old diaries I realize how much I've improved in the quality of my writing thanks to that incident. I would've never gotten so good if I wasn't rejected from the Editorial Team. If I read out my first diary's entries to you, you would probably not be able to understand anything.(Even I don't). 
Unless of course you understand gibberish cause that's the closest I can describe my writing back then. 
I guess it's one of those moments of your past which you look back and think to yourself like, "Damn, that hurt but I wouldn't change it for anything."

It's been a process since then. And I'm still improving. My ability to write out my thoughts have become much clearer and the way I perceive life has sharpened. I remember my day more precisely than I used to and the way I talk too has changed....my sentences are more thought of at least.
Language is impactful and the way we say things matter too. It's a skill worth investing your time in. And the returns are plentiful.

A moment that touched me

-Suggested by a Grace Friend

Back when I was in the 8th standard at school, one day, a teacher decided to tell us an incident that changed her life. 

This is what she narrated to us...
I was walking by the canteen and I saw a little primary school girl staring intently at the ground. I looked over to the ground and didn't see anything so I asked her what was she doing. She told me that she was observing ants. I then looked again, and like the little girl said...there were ants...tiny ants going somewhere in a nice neat line. I was surprised to realize how I couldn't see it before. 
As an adult, we tend to overlook the small joys in life, the simple things. We fill our minds with worries and troubles and miss out on opportunities to be content with little things because we deem them insignificant, but in reality they're not. Even little things are important in life.

It was a lovely story. All of us were greatly amused by the simplicity of the little girl. I too was. 
Then our teacher proceeded and asked us, "Maybe that little girl was one of you. Does anyone remember? Was anyone like the little girl as a child?"

Then I realized when I thought a little bit harder... That little girl was me!
I was really touched about how my quirkiness as a child had in fact impacted my teacher so much that she felt it necessary to share this incident with the whole class. (and possibly other classes too) 
I unknowingly had changed someone's perspective. 
I stared blankly back at my teacher, with flushed cheeks but I didn't say a word. 

Now that I think about it, I still have a lot of my quirks. Though they have evolved into other strange behaviors of mine. They aren't necessarily weird. They're just.....different. 

But I know now that, we can influence people a lot...sometimes...by just being ourselves.