Before the Clock Strikes 12

Soon I am going to be lost in drunken sopor and comprehending basic grammar, let alone actually writing sense, is going to be beyond my mortal abilities. So, here I am, on New Year's Eve listening to music that seems to be sheer spiel (I loved the word when I read it on a friend's blog), staring at a computer screen, wondering why I would be doing this when I should be already be supine in one corner, downing poisons that would probably be toxic waste in a parallel universe.

Well the answer is simple, before the time comes for Cinderella to run off leaving her glass slipper behind, I have this urge to cleanse my mind, body and soul of everything that has seemingly had a manic depressive effect on me this year. By far 2009 was the most eventful year in my life in terms of disasters and mood swings. It was also a year of decisions made on the spur of the moment and lost friendships, revealed identities and unlayering of layers.

Do not worry. I am not going all philosophical. Nor am I going to be diagnosed as prematurely senile anytime soon. But this is the year I realized that I (and a few other friends who were surprising revelations in this regard) were the target audience for all those real reality shows, television shows and movies, where a wee bit of tweaking of the music would cause us to shed tears or laugh out loud depending on the demand. Pretty much like the applause and laughter boards in studio sets. I also realized that I had more talents than I ever knew, that I took criticism pretty hard, I had the lowest of low self esteems, I was still afraid of my father, I had the coolest mother ever (I just needed to figure how to handle her at times), that I could be likeable if I wanted to and that I had the absolute best choice in friends (whatever anyone else would like to believe).

But despite the few moments of clarity, I had more downs than ups. Spending a day in the hospital with a friend on her birthday - bad, pressing the rewind button on relationships - really really bad, having no friends in the city I call home - dealable, best friend of 13 years going MIA - superlative (to the power infinite) of bad. And these were coupled with mistakes in choice of vocation and being judged by people who thought your normalcy was alien like.

So this coming year in 2010, I need the Karma of life to fulfill its obligation to me, while I go ahead and try to fulfill my obligations to others. And if the powers above are mysteriously reading this - "There is no scope of replacing need with want because this is my survival instinct butting in. I am assuming you guys gave us that instinct for Darwin to discover."

Another Apology

Do you wonder about misery,
I don't...
...worry about seemingly unrelated things
But now it is upon me
And I look for a reason.
Hidden and locked
in the recesses of excuses
made up for lack of courage.
And the reason...
...it stares at me
from every gap available.
Screams and blames, recites
an age old adage
..."for the lack of a nail..."
And I hide.
But the guilt streams through
investigating every nook
before finding me
crouching under beds
shivering in fear
of being exposed,
laid naked,
condemned, accused for
being.

Itching For a Fight!

The first time I ever met her she was wearing this floral blue thing that I completely associated with the kind of people I never became friends with, but then ideas change and so it did again, that day. She questioned constantly, during the orientation and later on, in many of the classes we had together. She would question things, we took for granted. She challenged authority, not for the sake of false rebellion but because she truly believed that somewhere, while asking us to grow up, they, the so called experienced grownups, treated us like we were in kindergarten, asking them to pin our ID cards to our shirt pockets. I adored her and probably admired her. She was that one person who I kind of looked up to, because she had the courage I never had. She would fight for all of us and then fight us, for making wrong choices, in boyfriends and in college. And then suddenly one day, on the ride back home from college, she dropped a bomb (to say the least). She was quitting college. She was not happy. I was angry at her. Yes! But I think the pride surpassed the temper. I never told her this but I was happy she could take a decision like that. And so she left.

Life went on and somewhere along the line, she started losing that spark, of life and happiness, that she had passed on to us. I hated that. I hated what people who apparently cared about her did to her. She got caught in that rigmarole of having a job which you neither love nor hate and living a life that is exciting to people not living it. She loves to criticize herself, something I never thought she would do (unless it was about weight loss, which is the constant bane of all our lives). She blames herself for the faults of self-proclaimed pricks. She calls herself the loser, when it is the other person who lost. She is slowly leeching off all my qualities and since I am such a jealous guardian of all my faults, this is the first notice to her, to leave the territory of my not-so-materialistic patented emotions. And since she knows that I am stronger and will completely kick her a$# in a fight, she will make the right decision. Anyway she bruises way too easily.

By the way, if you are reading this and if you follow the diktat, I cross my heart and swear to train you so that you can beat up the several losers. Just for the heck of it.