“At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book—that string of confused, alien ciphers—shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader.” –Alberto Manguel

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Monday, November 23, 2015

I Need To Stop

Couple of days back, while in bed sleepless I had a deep thought or deeper than I should. Thought about things like how I am with people –in front of them or when they are not, about procrastination, about sleeping odd hours, about skipping meals, worrying about something unfortunate if someone close is traveling, not speaking up when I should, giving too much to people who don’t deserve, expectations, giving up when I might be so close to the goal.

I need to stop –my fear of height and speed, my belief that people of my age understand and are mature enough, my thinking of things missing in my life rather counting my blessings, comparison, heart sickening thoughts of how people close to me would die, how people I will meet or met could be harmful, helping those who only gave me excuses, being rude to people who have nothing to do with it –I mean, why to upset people who have nothing to do for what am upset about; but anger and irritation is such a thing –it reduces the power of your thoughts to decide.

Whatever we are up to, just reflects in our actions. A warm person will rarely make anyone feel bad, rather comfort someone cold and offer everything he can. I hate the fact that I have reduced writing and reading. Honestly, I feel stupid. Imma buy a color book and crayons and just color whenever I am not feeling good. I like being busy, I like having things to do, I like seeing my calendar and knowing there’s something to do. Dealing with deciding what to do is annoying sometimes when you have limited options and yet not a single idea hits the mind.

Sometimes, you just wanna go somewhere and people you know aren’t ready to accompany you. That’s when I start to think, why the hell I need people? Sometimes, I think –no, that’s not why I know them. It’s okay if they don’t wanna go. You just can’t force people, and begging is really not being me. I drop that and miss the way I wanted to go to that place.

Yes, I do say no to places I don’t wanna go and so other people have their own choices. I gotta respect that, but honestly I hate when I get a no. I mean who doesn’t wanna go to this place called explorium. Ya, it’s a kids place so? I am God’s kid. Bleh! I hate even more when I am dressed up and they cancel, like what? Make it happen or I am gonna be so mad. I was thinking all this and may be speaking all this to myself too. I don’t tell all these and that’s why I write.

When I tell, I want them to listen and understand. I hate when I am interrupted by irrelevant topics or when someone else jumps in with their story and suddenly the focus is on them and I become like I don’t exist, I hate it even more when people stick their heads in phone and skip what I just said. I feel like, hello am not just moving my mouth –I am actually taking with a voice. Manners are not common, I tell you. And when they realize I was telling something, they say yeah what you were saying –I never repeat, that’s my rule. I just drop that topic. In my mind, I have just murdered them for making me so mad.

I am a good listener, I really listen and wait for them to finish. That’s why sometimes I forget what I was going to say. That’s why people tell me things and when I fail to understand they go mad. Knowing people and understanding them makes them think like I have to understand else it’s an offence to them. Suddenly I become a bad person. Hello, I don't have a user manual or handbook. I have started to believe –not everyone you lose is a loss. I have promised myself, every time someone pisses me off -I am just gonna have an ice-cream. Next time you see me having ice-cream, ask me who pissed me off. Maybe join me in the conspiracy to murder them, literally. When I say murder, I mean make them realize what they did wrong. 

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Language Of Sarcasm

I know many people who express things straight as they are. They don’t mix it up or wrap it up with something else. They keep things easy and clean, I am not one of them. Maybe those people have got best of people around to keep things simple or they really don’t give a damn about people. I use difficult unusual words to keep it hidden for longest time possible, I don’t want people to know what am up to. 

I don’t like if someone guesses something is wrong with me. I switch topics, I focus it on the one am talking to. I don’t manipulate any information or detail. If I tell anything, it will be true and appropriate to my knowledge else I won’t tell or skip it somehow. I don’t really prefer putting sad status if something is bothering me. You put sad status, people get nosy. They find gossip there, they even may take screen shot of it and discuss in their own little group of a kind. Sure, people who talk to me; talk about me.

It is disappointing to count on people to get you. I love sarcasm and there is comfort there. Sarcasm is escape. Remember, George Bernard Shaw? Go away if you don’t and why did I reference him. Some people like drama, but sarcasm is really my type. Drama is like shooting someone in head, sarcasm is happily making them poisoning their own tea. I rather put things in gibberish or letters or codes of my own. I love my privacy and I dislike people who disrespect it and I will do anything to protect it. 

Some people say they like that I am being myself –then those people say they don’t like something in me and literally demand a change. What they think I am, ping pong ball so they can hit me from both sides? Thing is am not fond of being with people who approve me, and make me feel like they did a favor. You, Sir can keep that favor in your pocket and learn some fair sales techniques. 

At times you reach the threshold of tolerating things and then you don’t fear a thing. You care a damn about the consequences, you just got a baggage and you want it off you. Then it gets you like, God you should have done it before when it hit your mind first but you let it go to the oblivion as some meaningless stupid thought. 

I don’t know, it is always disappointing to expect people to understand you. They never will exactly the way you want it to. That’s why I write about it –in my phone and on this blog. Sometimes while reading a really happy comforting line, you really wanna cheat all the unpleasant thoughts and get out of your mind. But, is there a way outta mind? Remember, Sylvia Plath talking about it? I love her Unabridged Journals and everything about it. 

Writing calms me down, like there happens to be a sudden drop of anxiety and anger. Sometimes, when you are out of options and do what you find best to do –you find a weird sense of missing something that’s not gone, but something that you know is not gonna happen ‘cause you had that in your mind ever since. Remember, Margaret Atwood? Love her. 

Sometimes, telling your thoughts or how you feel about a certain thing to people is like –telling a stupid person a joke but you have to repeat and break it down into literal meaning ‘cause they don’t get it and then the joke loses its essence, you feel like why did you even tell a joke and literally want an “undo” button and “save changes”. I guess, I am never gonna stop wondering things about people. Is there some field of study that deals with people? Perhaps!