i wake up and see that it’s another afternoon. there’s a todo list gathering dust by my bedside, there’s so much to do, to express, to reach out for. another 3 hours that have past me by. i have watched an episode of a tv show that i have lost interest in but continue to watch just for sake of doing something. and there’s my todo list that sits there ominously and i have so much to do. i have so much to prove, so much to gain, so much to see through. what good are words if not translated into the world? and i have eaten another meal, seen another sun setting through the shadows on the walls of the 4 walls around me, i have so much to do. they are not my shadows yet they cling heavily to me, and i have been thinking of doing what i have to do. the shadows they are speaking to me and i am not listening, i won’t listen. they’re not my shadows but they have been clingy and if anything, i hate clinginess and there’s just so much to do. but i am meandering through words. and headspaces, mindpalaces. there’s something that has to be done but it’s slipping past my fingers and i am falling through another storey of another story of my brain. i am dreaming, i’m on my bed, asleep.
there are a’lot of ways to start a story. a billion trillion ways to word things out, to express. why’s it when it comes to an expression of self, do i stumble much like a headless chicken on a highway with cars zipping past me, my heart but an anxious ball of a hamster on a wheel, a volcanic caldera rising over me, all around me and engulfing me whole?
i have to breathe.
you know when life gets too fast you, you lose track of your words so you never really word it out but you feel so much and so you store, and you store some more and you wait, wait for things to calm down, to slow down, to slow down enough for you to catch a breather, to slow down enough to make sense of the mess built up inside your head – so yeah,
i’ve come to an important deer- caught in-the headlights-blaringly-worm-hole-opening and eating us all- realization of how often wrong I am. how often do I throw myself head along into things which I had better thought twice about. how I should’ve let my saner 20% of the brain talk to me through the pros and cons, should’ve made a list, atleast a smack! 7 bullet points, ALL CAPS, neon red, in shimmery bright uGLy BOLD–
so yes. back on topic: I should’ve been careful, I should’ve acted in my own favor, should’ve never let myself get carried away, should’ve resisted, should’ve literally smacked myself across the face before letting myself come back to you. i’ve only myself to blame.
it hurts to hold my phone up but we gotta hustle as usual. yesterday, this time, I was psyching myself up: walk in, get vaxxed, walk out. it was simple, all I had to do was gather my crippling anxiety and depression and shove myself out of my house. it was ok, it went ok. I came back home and then I died.
side effects are real. kiddos be safe. I was left drained, my upper arm was sore all day, and it still hurts til now, but we’re chinning up, the fever’s down. has anybody else gotten fever, body ache, the full 10 course meal of side effects with the vac, if so, my humble condolences. you’re gonna be okay.
i hope I’m okay. I have so much to do, sort out, pack and then brave it all up again. chin up kid, we doing alright. you’re doing ok.
it’s been a long time since I’ve sat by the window, early morning, enjoying my cold coffee with the birds chattering endlessly in the background. In the summers, we really do find our own selves again. it’s a sticky kind of morning, the breeze not strong and somewhat aloof, the sky, anything but sunflower yellow, with a tinge of silver to it and I, the spectator, slouched, lips stained with coffee, a bit more woke and still asleep.
dear reader, if you’re following still, do you perhaps think you’ve gotten an idea about me? do you read in between the lines of what I write? do you guage what kind of a person I am? I do that a lot. figuring out people. I’ve done that ever since I was a child. I’d think of you and the stories that made you, you and I’d feel as if I had it all in my palm. figuring people out was my thing until I lost the hold on the figure I was to be.
im acutely aware of the fact that I missed out of on day’s writing. I was talking to you, yesterday, this exact time and we clicked back together as if we had never fallen apart, and we were prancing around each other, preys to one another, acting, playing our parts till the end, till the very end. and, I allowed myself to bask in the familiarity of you for a good moment or two and then I let you fade away, again.
we’re doing the daily blogging thing at an earlier time today. i woke up at nearly 5 am. which is a good thing, waking up early is a good thing, don’t they tell you that? well I woke up and sleep walked over to the dinning table and quietly stuffed my face with pizza for a full 10 mins staring in space. waking up at 5 am is okay, I’m guessing, but brimming yourself full of pizza at that of an early hour, I’m guessing not so much? well. my stomach is currently happy, so all’s well folks!
i have a chemistry assignment that’s overdue by two days. so I can’t write at my usual 7am, have to work on that before taking EM’s (PHY) class at 9.30. my day is booked y’all till 2pm. shame, a real shame. it’s the first day of the reopening of the university, and I’m….a province away. not that I mind. I’m good and safe away at my home, I tell myself.
no I don’t miss that foggy, smoking city, with its overbearing people or my dorm, or the people at the mess, the chubby owner of the mart downstairs, who used to feed me food thrice a day and then grumbled about how much I ate but always shared a cig with me in silent camaraderie outside the steps of the mart. or you. I don’t miss you either, at all. you made me fall in love with you and the stupid ashy city of loud, chattering people, always in everybody’s business, always so nosy and annoying, no I don’t. I don’t miss you or the moment you fell for me and then chased me for months. not our first kiss, not you shyly hiding your face in my arm afterwards and not me placing my head over your little rabbit-kicking, thrumming heart. it was good what we had, was it not? it was good while we lasted. my first romance, my first love, my first person. 56000 deleted messages, you said. that made 1000 texts, daily. now we don’t even talk. talk about going from a thousand to a zero.
i am unceremoniously back here again. why? well, it was cathartic writing yesterday and I thought maybe let’s do it again. let’s do what I once loved doing as a child again, let’s pick up the pieces of mine that I’ve lost through all these years of growth. let’s write. and here I am writing, as I wrote yesterday, eyes half way closed, 7 am-ish, bad punctuation and all.
I’m going to let you on in a secret. I cannot cry. well, I do have natural biological tear sacs and all around the jelly weird globe of all-seeing, but the thing is, I can’t cry easily. so I keep a tally.
I cried after 4 months.
just 2 tear drops streaking down my face
it felt nice.
tears are hard to squeeze out. how often do you cry? do you wish like me you could actually express your hurt/feelings? that you could cry and be done with it. instead of harboring them.
anyhow. it’s a blessing, tear sacs, the salty fluid. it’s an expression. it’s a medium of expression, crying. so let out and express yourselves more, be loud, be ugly, be angry, be silent and muffled, choke and scream – but do, cry.
I can’t login to my WordPress on my laptop and that’s aggravating to say the least. it’s been 5 years since I started on here and well… time did fly me by. I now no longer write on a small 4 inch mobile screen, I have a greater storage capacity, better camera, shorter hair length, a bit one or 2 inches added to my height, the same bunny teeth and less of a mind. I am no longer the reader I was 5 years ago, gobbling books after books and living in between shelves, the wonder eyed kid with so much passion to achieve so many things, the sparky loud girl with long hair. I’m no longer her, I assure you my reader. I’m a tad bit sadder? a tad bit mellowed, meeker, anxious self of me. yet I am here again, once again, to say something off my chest, or maybe…I’m here because I’m invisible here and it’s a space I could write on with no one to judge me for it.
how do adults… do adulting? I am a newly found adult, I’m no longer a teenager, I chopped 6 inches off my hair, I made my own bank account, i purchased air tickets on my own, i made lists after lists of what to do and what to expect, I spent 6 months living alone on my own in a foreign city, I grocery shopped for my own, smoked my first joint in a park on a foggy morning, sitting on wet dewy grass, I got my first kiss, I spent 4 months falling in love with a boy and then it took 2 weeks for me to undo all of that.
so, my reader, how have you changed in the last past 5 years?
p.s: don’t chew me out for the wacky punctuation, it’s all lowercase for me (aside autocorrect) so if I’m irking you off, well, that’s the point. I still hate the way this website makes it so difficult to write.
I’ve been meaning to write about Libraries and Awkward-ness since forever. I am sure I am not the only person who have had the opportunity to experience some first-hand embarrassment and awkwardness when it comes to The Library. Below is a list of the experiences that I have had over the years. To those of you relate, yes, you – fellow Samaritans, I share your grief. To those of who don’t, just keep on reading.
In Between the bookshelves:
Aw, this is such a corny header but believe me, there’s nothing remotely cute about it. Sometimes when you’re browsing through the bookshelves you’d find people standing in the passageway. They will be utterly oblivious to their surroundings, positively engrossed in the open book in their hands while blocking the only way of exit. Hey, there’s no harm in checking out a book by standing in the passageway, heck, I do that all the time but the variation of the homo sapiens that I speak of – are so out of tune with the ‘real world’ that after several failed tries of politely clearing your throat and the excuse-mes, you start to get annoyed. Give it 5 more minutes of tapping your feet and then you would feel your pulse increasing and the anger building up-
COMEON, SHOVE IT PEOPLE.*screams in head*
While planning their immediate painful death in the next 4-5 minutes, you’d be exasperated, tapping your foot, waiting for them to keep the book down- Yes, your Majesty, if you may – give you that slightly- irritated, slightly-apologetic smile before (finally) giving you enough space to pass by.
There are people who visit the book shelves or the Fiction aisle of The Library, just for attending phone-calls.
Mind you, they would pretend that they’re speaking very quietly, pacing down the length of passageways, holding their mobiles to their ears, lowering their voices. Pointedly. Oh, how considerate. While in the reality it is usually the opposite. When you’re engrossed in checking out the synopsis of a good book, half-stifled conversations and murmurings would drift to the aisle you’re standing in.
“Amanda, yes honey I’ll be there at 8..”
“….yes sir,…yes, yes understood sir…..right there on your desk?..”
“Baby boo!…uh huh….*smooch* *smooch*…”
Oh no, this isn’t the only circumstance in which you’d feel murderous ready-to skewer somebody. oh no, no, no.
These are the people who sit. Yes, sit on the floor like the library is their effin’ damn property- blocking the way-type.
There’s no easy way to go around these. They’re usually either engrossed in their books or are revising some notes or are working out some secret of the Universe by the look of them. You would feel like an absolute guilt-laden jerk when you’d force them to let you pass. They would eye you down, those accusing eyes full of the unfiltered annoyance and you would have no choice but to keep your head down and quickly scurry away…
THEY WILL BE EVERYWHERE, BEWARE!!
Whether you’re studying, passing by to your desk, popping up earphones to enjoy a soothing song in between a study break or are doing a very essential work which your whole future indirectly or directly depends on – you’d find enthusiasts/aspirants/preachers/gossip mongers/annoying aholes to be speaking in their breathy, low -LOUD ENOUGH TO BE HEARD IN THE NEXT AISLE-voice discussing philosophy/opinions/politics/some rocket science topic or whatever – with other people who are equally engrossed in trading up their opinions or WHOLE LIFE EXPERIENCES as a matter of fact.
You would wait for them to finish, musing and listening to stories of their lives –mind you- pausing that very essential work so that once they are over you could actually continue with your life again. However, that’s some wistful thinking because they would continue to annoy the hell outta you. And believe me, I speaketh with experience.
At the end of the day, you’ll be left with the knowledge of why some guy left Ms. X, cheating on with some Hispanic girl, how the damsel cried and decided to take her life, ending up in a mental hospital annnndd tonnes of your unfinished work…
4) Gums. Chew, chew my brain:-
The gum clique. Or cliques. Is there a big word to describe these horrendous species? Noting that Moi, myself is one of them *flashes teeth*.
I personally have nothing against chewing gums. They are a perfectly handy creation that does chase away the rancid breath of people or they like to think so.
Yes, thank you, folks,, especially the smokers, the never ending whiff of smoke off your entire existence just made me a passive smoker. My throat burns, ugh.
There are different sorts of people when it comes to chewing gums and etiquette.
Each of them are very unique and specific about their style and either you’ll be enthralled with the way they chew the gum or would be horrendously disgusted. In the relative quiet of the Library, the *chom chomp POP!* sound will be equivalent to somebody drilling a hole in your brain.
No exaggeration. NADA.
6. STARE ME DOWN
They are and will always beMEGA AWKARD eye contacts with strangers. An Introvert like me feels suffocation and the need of just running away when this happens.
Oh, you see the person staring?
Don’t worry, honey, he will look away in a moment. You do your work.
What? He hasn’t stopped looking yet?
nuh-uh I am kinda majorly creeped out…
Is there something stuck on your face, teeth?
IS THERE? wait lemme check….
Better sniff yourself too ya know maybe he got the deadly whiff of your unshaven hairy armpits. I fear he has
W-WHAT DOES THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN? I CRY.
It doesn’t smell that awful…..atleast not to me..
Maybe he has a crush on you?
Are you joking?.. He looks fifty…
Anyways, you still haven’t told me about your crush.
My what? Where da hell did that come from?
You turd. Anyways, is the creep still looking?
I haven’t……..yes he is..
ISN’T HIS EYE CONTACT LASTING ALOT LONGER THAN NECESSARY?!!?
And then you’d feel obligated to leave. Just leave.
DISCLAIMER: I may have exaggerated a bit, ok yes, a lot of the things I’ve mentioned here but they do hold a bit of truth. I am a very The Library person and I have encountered (suffered through) from all of the ones I have mentioned above.
The word means to yearn for a luxurious life-if further elaborated, it simply means somebody who wishes to spend his life with comfort and luxury.
This word is not commonly used and few people know its meaning.
What does it even mean to yearn? Yearning for something seems auspicious. You either yearn for something that’s out of your reach or for something that is in your grasp but you still cannot have it and for that you can only yearn.
A lover yearns for his unrequited love.
A poet yearns for successfully getting his message across on to the piece of the paper.
A pariah yearns to not to be a social outcast.
A patriarch yearns for solace in his church.
A religious man yearns for forgiveness and finally attaining the promised ‘reward’.
And a mother yearns for her child’s wellbeing.
But what can a person wants by ‘yearning for a luxurious lifestyle’?
Money? Fame? Accommodity? Independence?
No it varies from person to person.
A person steeped deep in false- consciousness can yet only yearn for so little things.
While a person who follows the gratification approach would already be content by being grateful for what he already has and will not have the want for anything.
A poor person can yearn for money to have a luxurious life whereas a person with load full of money will find himself yearning for something else – companionship for a luxurious life.
What do you find yourself yearning for?
Feel free to drop down your thoughts, ideas and opinions in the comments below 😀