Disclaimer: Tejas and Kyra are awesome.
So today morning, when I woke up, I noticed the sun was shining just a little brighter than it usually does. Actually, it was shining a lot brighter. So much so, my first words were "Wuuurrhth" which is groggy talk for "what the hell?"
My curtains were missing. The bright orange, soul of the room, mood making, house-warming present-from-Kyra-and-Sairu curtains were gone. So I freaked out and eventually learnt that the cleaning lady had taken them to the wash.
But just as I was starting to calm down, I noticed she'd left the window open and two pigeons had flown into the room and were presently, having sex on top of my cupboard. After shooing the fuckers (heh.) off, things were back to relative normalcy, except for the man gawking at me through the hole in my window.
Anyway, I then chilled for a bit and eventually set off to do some bank work for the exam bound Kyra. Sure enough, when I had to show the ticket collector my pass, I'd left mine at home. Instead I had a pass that expired in February.
So 10 minutes and Rs. 250 later (he was sweet enough to forego 4 bucks since neither of us had change), I reached the bank and guess what-
It's a bank holiday.
So in a huff I caught a rickshaw and came here to Kyra's where I'm presently blogging. But before I came upstairs I had some milk and decided to smoke in the surprisingly pleasant breeze only nice neighbourhoods are allowed.
While I was smoking, it suddenly occured to me, that while a whole lot of bad things had happened to me today, it wasn't actually a bad day. In fact, I actually felt quite pleasant and genuinely didn't feel stressed, or fried or anything like that. I even realised my tooth's stopped aching.
And it got me thinking, during the semester, usually even fewer 'bad' things happen to me in a day, but for some reason, it always tends to bring me down. The two people closest to me, Kyra and Tejas, usually tend to get overwhelmed and depressed by things like this, and it always used to amaze me how they'd anticipate something bad just so they could further compound the wretched day they'd be having. And with both of them, I saw that if something did go their way, because they were so expecting it not to, they wouldn't actually be happy about the something good, in fact they'd be just a teeny bit sad that it didn't work out the way they thought it would.
And, like all great introspection, I noticed I was doing the same thing only after I saw them doing it. Don't get me wrong, I love the two of them to peices but this is one of their more frustrating traits (frustraits) and I've had it the whole bloody time.
Now, I'm not saying one must smell the flowers or any of that shit, but I don't know, the sudden change in perspective I got today's got me wondering if everytime it feels like a shitty day, it's really not, but because the bullshit's picked up so much momentum, we just end up thinking it's a bad day anyway.
I'm not particularly sure what this whole post's been about anyway, but I must say, after pigeons getting jiggy, me getting fined and the bank being closed, I still had a pleasant day and now I'm sitting next to the pretty Ms. Mathews. I think it might have been the cigarettes. Or the milk. Or the breeze. Or Kyra. Probably the cigarettes though. So yes, smoke. It'll make a shitty day a not so shitty day.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Agin' and Ragin'
I'm not too sure if this post is better suited for the other blog, it's just that it's extremely personal so I figure it's only proper if it's here.
I just watched Gran Turino. I've only ever cried in two movies in my life. The first being Rugrats (I was young) and the second being When a Man loves a Woman (I was breaking down).
I did not cry during Gran Turino, but I certainly felt like I wanted to.
The film for those of you who don't know, is about an aging Vietnam war vet played by Clint Eastwood, who grows past his biases and prejudices in a shit hole ghetto, where he lives, along with his dog Daisy and his '72 Gran Turino, which for the layman is a beautiful muscle car.
To say the film is moving, is to say Kill Bill is violent. It doesn't cut it.
What prompted me to write this though, was the way it hit home on a topic, or idea really, that I've been haranguing myself with for the past few months.
I'm turning 21 this year, and I'm in that phase between comfort and the real world- college. And everyday I find myself upset with what I am and what I'm becoming, and everyday I feel a little more uncomfortable in myself.
So I try to remember and emulate easier times, when things were clearer and I could honestly say I was hitting my peak everyday. And obviously, this has led me to miss my life as a teenager. To wish I had the drive and clarity of that time, when I could dream easily without being cynical. When I felt like I was the protagonist in a super movie where the plot keeps getting better and better and I could count on what would happen next. When everytime I was working there was this awesome music in the background, and I was the center of this killer montage.
But ever since the script that comes with school and parental control went away and I reached this place where MY choices decide the plotline, I feel like I'm floundering. Now that my first year is gone and my second year too has ended, the 'exploration' part of the film is over and like the bridge of a Bon Jovi song, I'm in that part where the harmonies come together slowing everything down, leaving you completely uncertain about whether or not the song is ever going to be the same again.
But then there's the key change and the chorus BURSTS out louder and clearer than ever, making your chest swell like you're about to fucking scream (or Yawp! for those who've seen Dead Poets Society).
In the movie Dazed and Confused, there's this line that goes something to the effect of "I'm tired of treating the present like it's some sort of inconvenient step on the way to whatever my future should be..."
That got me thinking. We all know all the bullshit about 'live life' and 'live in the present' and all matter is just energy and all of that, but why do we treat it like it's some academic bullshit we can use in an argument at some point, or to nod 'I know' when someone else is trying to sound intellectual.
My dad and I have had all these talks, and in school, debating and in class we've been over all of this. I've read Tuesdays with Morrie and I've seen a whole bunch of movies that are all SUPPOSED to have inspired me. But somehow I've never actually done it. I've always admired people who do shit, even if it's not fully thought through. Who up and travel, or shut up and learn, or get down and practise. But for some bizarre reason, I'm just struggling to be any of that and over these past few weeks, it's been hitting me harder and harder, that the only thing all these guys have in common, is that they aren't bothered about the end result or the way things were. All they care about is what's at hand and what needs to be done. END OF STORY.
Clint Eastwood, is an old man struggling with past sins and mortality, and I'm a young guy struggling with past glory and future failures.
I've gone ahead and got myself caught up in all the fucking nitty gritty bullshit and complete forgotten what really matters- that I'm a 21 year old guy who can't draw his own characters and needs to practise.
Fuck.
I've always felt, if we all knew less we'd get more done. It's sort of like expectations. Either expect everything or expect nothing. Know nothing, or know everything. The mid part is just weird.
Anyway. I've said enough.
I just watched Gran Turino. I've only ever cried in two movies in my life. The first being Rugrats (I was young) and the second being When a Man loves a Woman (I was breaking down).
I did not cry during Gran Turino, but I certainly felt like I wanted to.
The film for those of you who don't know, is about an aging Vietnam war vet played by Clint Eastwood, who grows past his biases and prejudices in a shit hole ghetto, where he lives, along with his dog Daisy and his '72 Gran Turino, which for the layman is a beautiful muscle car.
To say the film is moving, is to say Kill Bill is violent. It doesn't cut it.
What prompted me to write this though, was the way it hit home on a topic, or idea really, that I've been haranguing myself with for the past few months.
I'm turning 21 this year, and I'm in that phase between comfort and the real world- college. And everyday I find myself upset with what I am and what I'm becoming, and everyday I feel a little more uncomfortable in myself.
So I try to remember and emulate easier times, when things were clearer and I could honestly say I was hitting my peak everyday. And obviously, this has led me to miss my life as a teenager. To wish I had the drive and clarity of that time, when I could dream easily without being cynical. When I felt like I was the protagonist in a super movie where the plot keeps getting better and better and I could count on what would happen next. When everytime I was working there was this awesome music in the background, and I was the center of this killer montage.
But ever since the script that comes with school and parental control went away and I reached this place where MY choices decide the plotline, I feel like I'm floundering. Now that my first year is gone and my second year too has ended, the 'exploration' part of the film is over and like the bridge of a Bon Jovi song, I'm in that part where the harmonies come together slowing everything down, leaving you completely uncertain about whether or not the song is ever going to be the same again.
But then there's the key change and the chorus BURSTS out louder and clearer than ever, making your chest swell like you're about to fucking scream (or Yawp! for those who've seen Dead Poets Society).
In the movie Dazed and Confused, there's this line that goes something to the effect of "I'm tired of treating the present like it's some sort of inconvenient step on the way to whatever my future should be..."
That got me thinking. We all know all the bullshit about 'live life' and 'live in the present' and all matter is just energy and all of that, but why do we treat it like it's some academic bullshit we can use in an argument at some point, or to nod 'I know' when someone else is trying to sound intellectual.
My dad and I have had all these talks, and in school, debating and in class we've been over all of this. I've read Tuesdays with Morrie and I've seen a whole bunch of movies that are all SUPPOSED to have inspired me. But somehow I've never actually done it. I've always admired people who do shit, even if it's not fully thought through. Who up and travel, or shut up and learn, or get down and practise. But for some bizarre reason, I'm just struggling to be any of that and over these past few weeks, it's been hitting me harder and harder, that the only thing all these guys have in common, is that they aren't bothered about the end result or the way things were. All they care about is what's at hand and what needs to be done. END OF STORY.
Clint Eastwood, is an old man struggling with past sins and mortality, and I'm a young guy struggling with past glory and future failures.
I've gone ahead and got myself caught up in all the fucking nitty gritty bullshit and complete forgotten what really matters- that I'm a 21 year old guy who can't draw his own characters and needs to practise.
Fuck.
I've always felt, if we all knew less we'd get more done. It's sort of like expectations. Either expect everything or expect nothing. Know nothing, or know everything. The mid part is just weird.
Anyway. I've said enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
