I Want to Write

Sometimes, I get an intense need to put down everything I am doing and write. I usually do it in my Field Notes book, the tiny thing that I carry everywhere I go, which contains a mess of my ideas, words I want to deep dive into, to-dos, and paint swatches.

This intense need to write arises, among other situations, when: a reading I am doing strikes my heart and brain, when I am teaching and want to remember a moment, when a professor or a student makes a remark and something about it stimulates me, when I come across a word and think it is so important I must know more about it, when I am showering or cooking or staring out the bus window or am happy/annoyed/sad about something or or or

Helvetica Freak is that place for me.

Write doesn't [always] mean essays and articles and stories. For me, it includes notes, illustrated timelines, twine interactive narratives, infographics, graphic designs that don't make sense, or a bunch of quotes that don't come with a byline but are grouped together to create a feeling. And much else. Whatever I think best fits the kind of curiosity or feeling.

HF is a newsletter, blog, and an archive, yes. It is also not on Substack. I have broken ties with Instagram and TikTok for the most part. I have long divorced LinkedIn. I see people in flesh, and connect with my friends through video calls and long text messages. Today, a friend left me a chocolate and a note in my PO Box.

I learn political, economic, and social news from my friends, from the news widgets, from sites I have collected: The Marshall Project, Rest of World, Ground News. And some others. This means that I do not see heartbreaking news right after a video game announcement right after a studio vlog which is an advertisement in disguise.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have a slow life [felt like I had to mention this after I saw a dramatic increase in Substacks and posts advocating for a slow life]. A large chunk of my day is spent running to classes and meetings, and scheduling more classes and meetings. Running to the bus stop and scheduling my little meals and coffees in time to catch the bus. Readings, writings, conversations, teaching, and more. And finding time when cooking to watch YouTube playthroughs and drama!

However, zooming in a little, reading and writing takes time. It means reflection and searching for words that convey what I feel. Bus travels and walking means I stare at clouds and trees, and homes and cafes. And a lot of snow. It also means spending ten minutes on the same Derrida sentence I have been reading since my first year of undergraduate.

It certainly is a strange time. The other day, when an impactful class on algorithms, data, and political means was wrapping up, I talked about how I have a strict no-tech policy for my students in the two sections I teach every week. The guy sitting next to me said, "see I would be a problem child for you, I need to have my computer in front of me," and I said "I know."

He has ChatGPT or Claude open at all [or most] times, for the most part of the three hour class. He asks it questions during discussions or when we're supposed to talk about our final project. The high school I went to is now implementing AI to pre-check students' assignments/homework. Professors in the English department are wanting to only have in-class examinations and no written essays for graded coursework because of AI.

These things make me reflect on my practices as an instructor. I love learning and teaching. And in my classes, I give my students every possible resource to help them think originally: my office hours for ideation they would outsource to AI, in-class exercises emphasizing on writing thesis statements and arguments, visual guides to help them keep track of ideas we're discussing, walking them through writing not only a paper but a paragraph, quick activities to finding errors and fixing them, guides on using libraries and its resources. I do the best I can. Is it worth anything?

I don't know. But the professor I teach under recently told me that none of the students looked disinterested in the entire duration of my class. They were taking notes, engaging, and thinking. Asking questions. No gadgets in sight. It made me feel good. And so, I will continue putting in the efforts, even if it is just 20-40 students every semester.

A thing about me is, I have an almost delusional level of belief in my life and myself. Belief doesn't mean confidence, no. But here's the thing: a decade ago, while still in high school, I knew I will do a PhD in English. This technically translates to 'I wanted to do a PhD', but how I wrote it is how I felt about it. Now ten years later, no one will call it a delusion. Call it a decade-long delusional orientation toward my future! Curious if I can make myself teach at a small liberal arts college in a small town, start my days with a walk to the campus.

From August 2023 to mid-July 2025, I worked an atrocious job. Depressing, work that was absolutely against all my moral codes, with a wicked and terrible and cruel boss. Sure, it afforded me a South Delhi life, money for PhD applications and other paperwork to move to the US, and my first experience of financial security. But I was hollow. I had to use what I love the most in life and direct it towards directly and indirectly helping rich people succeed. During this time, I lived in a room with no windows. I also had a not-so-nice childhood/young adulthood. And I have survived some terrible episodes of depression. I have stories.

This delusion helped me be intentional leaving the race, focusing on getting better, and doing what gives me pleasure like nothing else in the world; it is the best thing I could have done for myself. It comes from not having financial security and being at rock bottom: might as well do what gives me joy! I left a whole life for it. So I am rather delusional [with a dash of hopefulness] enough to think I can mold possibilities to fit into my vision.

Pairing my delusional belief with my other experiences, adding literature and theory to the mix, I have so much to reflect on, share, and understand about myself. I will share my curiosities and whimsies here. And other things.

I now have three windows in my room, there's a small hill that starts outside my window. Filled with trees. Sometimes there are deers playing there. When I am writing, I look outside at the trees and squirrels to think about my next sentence.