i keep trying to be have a disciplined routine to life .. to eating, to work, to writing, reading, to getting up... and to sleeping... all half-heartedly, though. am not here these days! notice, how i avoid saying "i am not myself"... that's because this IS myself... a haphazard way of existence... !
people at work, at times, my coach included; believe that I quote do not really work unquote... umm, a magic wand before the end of all deadlines?? :)
addicted to packing in as much as possible in moments of toil ... so i get to relish "my time"
my time defined thus:
fareies, clouds floating, butterflies, occult, physics, philosophy, romance - any version, music, words, pictures... FUN, my brand! am i still that naive? you bet! and I never stopped believing in santa though i conferred with the satan... up, close and personal, and, more than once.
it makes me so happy to write, to respond, to share a part of myself and call it art … but lately my days have been one thing: NOSTALGIA
i catch myself curling up with the intention of reading, and then all I do is stare out the window.
taking that much cliched stroll... stopping to look at every window, every corner ... of clumsy childhood, mom-dad, now tom boy, now a wall flower, gawky teenages, stupid threats to your brother,first crushes... heartbreaks, first blushes... fears, scary days ... carefree nights... fashion faux pas, first time on stage, bunking classes, praying for test scores, crying over friends break ups, happy over gifts, long phone conversation, sneaking for that last look to see if the guy that followed you from school is still waiting :p and swearing you hate him, first sleep overs and that first school trip you went on ... those ginger steps into college, books, machines, computers, friends, neighbors, counting the number of geckos on the apartment walls, number of boys who have proposed "for being friends", number of chocolates your brother got and number of dresses your friend has and also the number of As you got ... and almost every thing, either has a song or color or smell attached to it...
i am a Dad's Darling... always have been. Mom has an edgy-overprotective-now equals relationship with me... my brother --- ah, the bittersweet love we have is oh-so-storybook and my sis... well, how do i say it... we are separated in age by half a decade... and glued as twins.
my days are long and by the time I get around to doing something I’ve given all the little fragments of myself that I can give away. I cry easily. I’m snappy and snippy and short fused. It sucks. And suddenly all is fine and I trouble & tease my little sister. and, she has been cooking!!! and, surprisingly, I do not feel guilty.
i am being, at once stubborn and sensitive, fragile to the quick and emotional and temperamental and oh so needy. right now, am a yo-yo. extremes. fragments.
i keep trying to snatch up moments that I love to fill me up:
watching the sunset from terrace … but I am not quenched, the nostalgia and something else, is tugging at me and like a drought, spreading through my bones.
i need inspiration... and some more of this santa time, can we please not draw the curtains away!