Writing has always been my thing, a way of how I see and portray the world I am living in. Often, I think that I am living in a world of my own, a world that is composed of silly irrelevant thoughts and fantasies of pure imagination. I have been told I can write and I should keep on writing and may be even publish some of it one day.
I am a 28 years old woman, a doctor, currently practicing and half way through my residency program in clinical immunology and allergy. I am usually a very bright, optimistic person who enjoys doing different things in life. I am a moderately social individual who loves their privacy to a whole other level.
I took into writing from a young age and I used to and still continue to write mini poems, journal posts and scribbles in small papers and note books and hide them in different places in my flat. Most times I never tend to read them or look back at them for years and it is usually liberating and intriguing when I stumble upon one or two every now and then. I tried to start a blog previously but I failed miserably, as I couldn’t write daily posts or quite understand the nature of how blogs usually work. May be it was because my writings are extremely personal and deep, to the point where I think they are not very understandable or remotely relative to any one. But even in high school I had an English teacher who was very interested in developing my talent, as she used to call me up to her office to say “Rayan!! I can’t seem to foresee what your writing would be like, I can expect what the whole class would write, and how, but with you I just can’t. you’re drive me mad!”. I used to laugh it off or just promise her to write better on the next assignment. But I do remember a few incidents where she had me read my pieces to the whole class, and on most those incidents I felt so insecure about what I had written, and all I recalled was how I felt when I wrote that certain piece and how easy and good it felt. And I remember being pleasant surprised and proud with each word I read as to how good it was.The most glued piece to my memory was one I wrote about either war and piece or crime and punishment.
Now that you have a great insight into my history of how I come into writing, you should know that becoming a doctor has single-handedly took most of my deep thoughts, erased and traded my vocabulary with strong scientific and horrible terms; mostly to achieve a great goal of becoming a professional doctor. At times, I think me and my profession don’t usually abide, that I am too different than most, especially at how I feel deeply and connect with my fellows and my patients which is not always professional.
Recently, I have reestablished a lost dear friendship with a childhood friend, and this good friend of mine has made it her mission to make me come out of shell as a writer. although she hasn’t done much yet; but she has spoken to me a lot about how I must write more and publish my old poems and writings or at least start a blog, and here I am. I want this blog to help me mature, as writer and on a personal level. Given the fact that I intend to hide or not share my work with others, especially at open mics and poetry recitals this experience can help me mature and remain more objective. Because, I usually think my work is not comparable to theirs in a negative way, despite the constant pushes and encouragements I usually refrain from performing or reading my stuff. A self-esteem complex, may be, but now I am here I guess reading more and sharing more with criticism will much definitely help.