I’d like to think that that is a rather precise and accurate description of how I spend a substantial amount of my somewhat undestructive me-time.

”I read a lot”

What do I read? Not novels or strictly academic or scientific literature, but mostly Google, Quora, Reddit, TedX, DuckDuckGo, Journals… wherever my inquisitions lead me. Oh, and the materials of relevance to my courses. Besides that, I am inept at describing this compulsive need to answer every other question or curiosity that happens to capture my conscious awareness. Anything, and everything.

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“I write a lot”

If it can be called writing, that is. Technically, it’d be “I tap on buttons a lot” – magic buttons, in the form of bordered symbols and raised soft-touch buttons, which, upon activation, trigger the manifestation of symbols and signs. These pixels, when clustered and structured in a certain manner, form words .” that construct sentences of some sort, as if to convey a message. As this continues, the resulting text ends up becoming something more than a note, yet most often than not, they are no more than the recorded thoughts? voices? streams? on various lit monitors.

Frankly, I have no bloody clue what how to discern all that has been. haplessly & compulsively pursuing some sort of consistency – a ludicrous venture as I myself am consistently inconsistent. As I resist the urge to classify everything to the most minuscule divisions, the same applies to scrutinising and rewriting content.

I do not have the audacity to identify as a Blogger, Writer, Author – Frankly, I’m just another self-dubious, self-admonishing, self-absorbed female whose volition to adhere to to believe in the seemingly common notion of others – that the little 6 years of her past could & would be a story worth writing.

I’ve always had the practice of doing this, mostly attributed to my