Keeping it alive.

Writing this post as I realised it'll soon be Feb 2011, and a year of keeping my blog inactive makes it worthy of being deleted...

Interesting(to me) point -Since the title of this blog is Nothing Significant, maybe the fact that I didn't write for a whole year contradictorily ( Wow, I tried that put for the first time and it didn't get a red squiggly line under it so I'm assuming its a word) means that there have been significant events transpiring, which is why nothing was worthy of coming under this blog, as what I'm currently writing is ? (Yes, that's a long sentence. )

Talking about writing- the physical act of writing is something I quite enjoy. I mean, the act of taking a pen and letting it flow on a blank paper, making long loopy 'y's and 'g's, making neat commas, making a cursive capital 'A' with a flourish. Putting a triumphant full stop after writing a sentence to satisfaction. ( Hitting the full stop key hard enough to break the keyboard doesn't amount to the same!) The only reason I sometimes write notes in class is for this, for seeing physical blank pages fill with physical writing, for having 'j's going below the line and 'h's above.

(Of course, I still prefer submitting assignments in print, but that's a different issue).

Talking about handwriting brings back memories of school, where it was a huge issue. We'd graduated from the four lined notebooks and practicing pages of Gg and Tt and progressed to writing ten line answers from English lessons, when we had a new teacher who insisted that our writing wasn't 'cursive' enough, and we were back to writing for handwriting's sake. And those were the days when we had prizes at the end of the year for things like handwriting. (And yes, i won it much to the surprise of my mother who always thought it was untidy. )

Talking about English lessons also reminds me of, well English lessons. I had one in Primary School about children in class who spilt somebody's lunch, and the questions would go- Q.Who spilt the water A.Tom spilt the water. Q. Who's water was it? A. It was Bess's water. And that was the reason my parents decided i should change schools.

Ironically, after a lot of good English lessons for the next few years, after Julius Caesar, after unforgettable poems like Strange Meeting and Ode on the Death of a Favourite cat, after analysis of short stories like The Postmaster and War, come IIPUC and we were back to 'What was the name of the cat in the poem I Forget the Name', and 'How many litres of milk did the cow give in a week.'. And if things could get worse, the year after that we had to make lists of homophones and homonyms after a wrong explanation of what both were.

Now, its come to even lesser than that, to random posts once a year, and letters to the principal for whoever requires them. Sigh.