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Friday, December 19, 2014

high all the time

Recreating the past. How enticing.
There's this episode on Modern Family where Luke has this jar in which he has locked up a moment where his family was completely happy. I feel like locking up some moments like that. I also wish that there were jars that I locked up in the past. Holding tiny little moments of absolute joy. And freedom.
Do you think that it matters, though, that those moments are, sort of, chemically influenced?

I really don't think that it does.

If you can accept that living with religious beliefs is living in a illusory world, then living with moral beliefs is just one step above that. Probably a freer world, but illusory still.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

i will meet you under the lights

For a moment I thought I was in bizarro universe, and yet I just couldn't stop smiling. I am still smiling, although I don't know about what. If I ended up with Swift, we would be too similar. And I would forever be a wee bit annoyed, because that's how I am with myself - a wee bit annoyed. And we would eat each other's heads off. And how hot would that be.

Swift and soft strike me as an odd couple. It's also probably because of my obsessive need to just figure people out and categorize them into nice little boxes. I know better, of course. But then I think a lot of people are not viable for such categorization and less so in one meeting! Just thinking about what makes them tick makes me smile. I want to know. For once, it's not in a judgey, mean-spirited way. I don't want to know to feel better about myself. This is a whole new facet of Swift, this missing piece, this unknown which we can, of course, never talk about in clear words.

I have no idea what I am trying to think about through this post. Talking to Swift still makes my heart flutter. And not in a "i want us to be together" way, of course. I am still as curious as I was the first day we gtalked for hours. I am sure I'll still be as excited if I learn the details. ALL of them, every last of them.

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Writing for an audience - part 567

I want to write. I want you to want me to write. I want you to read all of what I write and wonder about it. Is there more? Will there be more? I want the words to mean something important. Even the frivolous ones. Even the forbidden ones. Even the useless useless ones.
I want you to smile when you read what I write. And, on some days, think too!
Read me. Help me read you. Take this piece of my life and give me a piece of yours. Enjoy the inanities, the nothings, the small highs and lows that make up my very ordinary life. It's all I've got.

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Solid ground

I thought a lot about so many things that I clearly remember. Abour Swift. About the days we talked for so many hours that we lost count, about how he called me from every cool place he went to, about that girl he was completely, totally in love with, about all the gifts he was buying her, about her nonchalance, about our bosses, about my perpetual half-lies. About drinking. About being tight-assed. And then I laughed. The thing is, there was never a right time for "us". But then I didn't wait for the time to turn right either. Forget me, I was a huge mess. Still am now.
But some times, like today, I face this secret truth about the whole ordeal and that is probably why I didn't wait. The truth is, what he is to me is nothing close to what I am to him.  It makes me feel a little bit small, but then I always move on.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Self control

Must be middle age, must be all the little lessons that life taught so unconsciously, but it is just so much harder to love. Without relent. To just throw caution to the winds. To gush. There is the perpetual fear of losing love if you just happen to love deeply enough.  "What if I turn into a ghost? What if I really, genuinely lose my shit? Not pretend sorrow, not self serving bullshit, for once." And there is also something else. Something irrational. That tiny flutter in the heart thinking about you. That sinking feeling when I am not sure if you like me enough. Whether you'd kiss me. Whether we would hug. As lovers would. Some times, this irrationality doesn't happen instantly. And then it's harder to just love. Is that dishonesty then? Is 'being in love moderately',  insincere? Am I wronging you? I read somewhere, that I don't want to pine for you when I'm not even sure that it's you I want. I guess that pretty much sums it up. I cannot force passion. Neither am I going to throw it all away. Life is much more than irrational accidents and crazy hormones. Hell I'd kiss you if I found your perfume nice. But that doesn't a life make.
I am only so much crazy. Thankfully. So while I do miss having everything, I don't forget that I have something. You.

Happy?

I caught myself thinking, so what makes me happy? I quickly realized how it is such a useless and irrelevant question.  When I was younger, the answer was very clear to me. Slow made me happy, love made me happy, this whole sense of purpose that I had in my life made me happy. Now I go about without making a big deal of it. Not that I am not happy, I am. It's just that I am not working "towards" something. You know that feeling, how you just do what you do because this is what you always wanted to do? So, my life right now is actually founded on happiness. And so it is sort of normal these days!
That is, such a relief. Really. Don't ever think I take it for granted. Not once.

And there was also tiny little moments that made me happy. Eating at pizza hut and reading, reading at coffee day alone, walking up to Kanti sweets and eating their god awesome chaat, just walking, eating chips from hot chips and cake shake at Flavors, watching movie over take out masala dosa from CTR - cannot believe how much happiness I associate with just eating several things =) - even now I do feel incredibly pleased when I do any of it. But I have also grown cynical.

Yesterday when I got up, it was raining! Just recently I was thinking about the rains and when I heard the rain drops outside my window, I just smiled to myself. There was nobody watching, nobody I had to show my happiness to, just myself and I smiled. It had been so long since that happened - I do laugh alone a lot, when I watch funny stuff, read funny stories, but that's different. And then, I fixed myself cereal and coffee and sat outside on the patio - to watch rain, to listen to rain. And when I was still in this excited mood, I also grew cynical. "What the fuck is wrong with me, why am I being so excited. I'm not reallly excited about the rain, am I, all of this is just a show off" . Like I said there was nobody to show off to, but the cynical part of my brain seemed to alert how I was putting on a show for myself.  To feel like there's some part of me whch delights in all this. Like really delight in it. Without explaining it, describing it, telling others that there is a delight in this. I am rambling now. But as I spent many a hour reading fat people stories, cringepics, tumblr in action and several similar "superior" subreddits, a certain sadness grew on me. I cannot explain it coherently even if I tried.

So yeah, right now if I lost five pounds I'd be happy, if my legs don't fucking hurt like mofo bitches whenever I up my mileage I'd be happy, if I am able to code the shit of system verilog I'd be happy, if I were to keep up with my courses and do everything in the course completely, I'd be happy. And really, this is much better than pining for arbitrary things from life. And other people.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Conversation

I told this to someone recently:
Life doesn't consist of physical crossroads where you decidedly pick to go a certain way. You don't know which path you picked until you're some distance on that path. The important thing is to know that there's never a point of no return. Just because you went some distance, doesn't mean you have to go all the way! You can always turn around and find your way back.

Sounds kinda profound, doesn't it?