when things start to make perfect sense
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Something happened today that made me think, If I want to establish myself as a serious writer, or someone who can write seriously, or someone who is interested in writing on serious subjects, shouldn’t I start doing it already? Instead of rambling and/or whinning incessantly about life on a blog nobody reads?
Something for me to really think about.
I’m tired.
No, really. I’m really tired, and there are so many things that I’m actually tired of that I needed to list them down and just have the opportunity to look at them, all numbered down and clearly put out there on the screen… No turning back and maybe when I see the list, I would be able to tell what the bloody hell is actually wrong with me and maybe then I would stop being tired..
1) I’m tired of sitting on my butt all day at a dead-end job which I should seriously consider changing, like NOW. It started off well. Very well, I would say and If I were to draw the entire experience on a curve it would be like .. going up-up-up-up-and before getting a chance to reach the peak, turning and-going down- down-down-down-down-down-then straight. You want to know how my job is? Well, I have work. Quite a lot of it too but I’m sitting at my desk right now, writing this blog. No motivation, no inspiration.
2) I’m tired of being sad about everything. Every thing, like every little thing makes me sad. Why do I have to be ‘sad’, why can’t I be a milder version of it. Why can’t I be less sad and more nonchalant or more umm.. let’s say, gloomy or heavyhearted or down or despondent.. Why do I have to feel so much intensity in every feeling I have – and as it happens, I am not a very happy person so basically, every feeling I have is a negative one, with a severity, a magnitude, so indescribably high, its annoying.
3) I’m tired of hating. I don’t like hating things anymore. Not dislike, not indifference but hatred. Why do I have to hate with such vehemence, things which I could easily ignore or deal with. Like I really hate my slow internet speed, I really hate coming to work. I really hate going back home after work. I really hate fighting and being at the receiving end of: ’you said this.. but you said that… but you did not do this… but you promised that.. and you are so ungrateful .. and you are never happy… but you don’t listen.. and you are always whinning..’
Which leads me to
4) I’m tired of whinning. I hate whinning. (See what I mean about hating everything :p) I really do. Do I whine because I have so much to whine about or is it just one of my habits; am I just addicted to whining about every little, minute, insignificant only remotely whineable thing . Most would vote for the latter but I really cannot distinguish one from another anymore. I do actually find the need to whine about everything- like not having post-its around when I need them or not having friends around to talk to after I myself, single-handedly drove them away. Whinning, I tell you, is a bad, bad habit. Even dangerous to some extent.
5) I’m tired of not doing anything about it. Well, obviously. I hate work, I hate being sad. I hate hating, I hate whinning, there is nothing in my life that I appreciate anymore and yet, here I am, doing absolutely nothing about it. Someone come and shake me up. I am a pile of bricks.
And like icing on cake. Oh no, no, with my negativity, how could I even use that phrase. I’ll use: And like the last nail in the coffin, I’m tired of
6) Giving up before I can even start. This should require no explanantions. How many times have I realized I am on a sinking ship and I should get off it or jump to the nearest ledge hanging onto dear life but … even though I can feel it and see it and hear it sinking, I am not moving. I go to the deck, see how much of the ship has gone down and then come back to the same position I was in before, this time so much more closer to the cold, hard water not-so-far below. 
And yes, I see everyone around me, one by one, jumping off it, either to a nearest boat or a ledge or another ship or just in the water swimming away, leaving me alone here still dwelling over whether to jump or not. Something in my head says: If it is sinking, why should I jump? But actually, I seem to be delaying the jumping for the bizarre notions in my head that maybe:
a) It won’t sink
b) Someone will come and get me out of here
c) This is a dream
*sigh*
What is a girl to do? I’m tired, you see.
Something has just occurred to me. I was listening to Boxer Rebellion and nodding my head up and down in the groove when this occurred to me. It occurred to me that I should write about love. *cough, cough* And before I succumb to this voice in my head telling me I know absolutely nothing about it, I have decided it is better to just start typing.
Love. Yes, love. But not of the romantic mills and boons with the female protagonist‘s golden hair cascading down her exotic face waiting for her domineering (but kind), King-like (but humble), strong (but hurt), flirtatious (but actually looking for love) God of a man who she might dislike in the beginning but eventually end up hero- worshipping; he is Superman without having to wear his underwear over his trousers, he is Spider man without the necessary web-making abilities… One just cannot draw a parallel to the likes of these stories in real. There is a reason why Judith Mcnaught started writing these books; fiction is important in the world.
However, I want to talk about love in the real life; the tugging and pulling of emotions and egos; the love of the immeasurable and insurmountable hurt, the uncountable misunderstandings, the constant betrayals, the broken expectations; the love that breeds in disappointments; the love that lives and breathes despite, the love that remains.. but also, the love that dies.
I don’t want to write about love because of some bizarre need to talk about it when I am in a state of un-love, nor is this an account of the blossoming feelings of love and affection from my significant other. It is just one of those things that occur to you when you are watching a sappy movie or listening to a song which pulls at your heart strings despite your absolute reluctance in letting it.
The thing is, I really do not understand love or what it is. I understand like. I understand affection. I understand attraction. I understand honesty and trust and belief but I do not understand love. I used to think love was sacrifice if you are able to sacrifice your ‘self’ (khud in Urdu) for someone; you love them. But is there a time-stamp on it? How do people confess their undying love for the other person and in the next second, cheat on them, leave them, get over them, move on from them.
And why is love of the heart and not of the mind? Why do people automatically think that if they started thinking rationally or practically, they will stop loving and why is love equated to irrationality?
Truth be told, I have been in ‘love’. At the time, I thought I was madly in it but then after 5 years, I managed to get over. Not without any reason either. Then I fell in love again; much, much later on and I keep expecting I will wake up one day to find either I am over, or he is over.. which is just, frankly too much pressure and too much of an energy wasted which could easily be utilized elsewhere :p
My point is… Wait, I don’t have a point. Just questions which just get debated upon but never absolutely and definitely answered. The philosophical world is dwelling over so many metaphysical concepts and I find myself wondering, is love also just a metaphysical altercation, a phenomenon trying very hard to be understood but miserably failing. Why did love, one of the most important feelings a person experiences had to be the undefined one, the obscure, the mysterious, the frustratingly multi-layered one with no certainty to its meaning. We don’t know how far it goes or how far it can; we don’t know where it begins and where it ends.
But maybe I have answered the question myself. Maybe the reason it is undefined is because it cannot be defined absolutely in the first place. Maybe it is undefined because it lies somewhere between 0 and infinity and every person, everywhere in the world decides where to put a certain person on this imaginary line, decides how to define love for oneself, define which factors are variables and which constants and eventually make his own personalized love equation.
And that is why people break up and get disappointed and betray and get their hearts broken and have ALL these love problems.
What is your problem? I’ll tell you. Somewhere between 0 and infinity is your problem.
I feel this strange, some would call, volcanic urge to start writing. It is the queerest of things and I have experienced it many a times before but never with this intensity. Maybe it has something to do with how terrible life is right now. How absolute opposite to how I planned it; how I am sitting right here with my laptop settled on my folded legs, staring fixatedly at the blank screen watching life get by, watching life happen as I stare and stare…
In the beginning, I transported this amazing energy towards writing emails to a naraz (annoyed) friend but that does not seem to be working because I did not get any response back. And I might just digress here a little and say how absolutely annoying it is that gmail does not have the option of sending and receiving ‘read’ receipts. At least that gives one reason to breath; your email was read, even if not replied to. It was read, it was read, relax, breath. This means that the option of replying to this email is in the air somewhere and all the receipient has to do is grab it and he just might any time soon. Wistful thinking, sometime but at least you are not left in a limbo. At least you are not left to wonder whether they got the email or not, whether they bothered opening it or not, whether they trashed it before even opening it or not…
… So yes, the emailing thing did not work. It did not do anything to this need, this, this urge that is making me keep on typing and typing and typing even if it is words forming of their own accord without any purpose.
I always used to wonder why people found the need to express everything, every feeling that they have, when they have it. It is annoying, take facebook for example: “I am going to shower today”, “Its cloudy/raining/sunny/breezy outside”, “Having food now”, “Will break in 5 mins”, “Feeling very happy/sad/depressed/funny/great”… All these and more, statuses upon statuses, posts upon posts… how is the redundancy of such expressions lost upon these people? But I find myself doing exactly that right now; rambling incessantly about nothing-in-particular. Makes me think of a child with his eyes shut running his pencil round and round and round a paper without revealing any signs of getting tired or bored or motivated enough to stop….
Didn’t I promise myself I won’t ramble on this blog. Someone once said if you want to stop rambling, think with your head, not your mouth. (My fingers are the metaphorical mouth here, ofcourse).
So yeah.
I’m gonna go try that. Right this minute. Or, just go back to work (which I should have been doing in the first place), or attend that meeting I’m supposed to attend or send reminders to people I’m supposed to send or give a verbal bashing to my intern who confidently ignores my ’order’s or… See what I mean about not being able to stop.
God!!!
Well, hello, congratulations. You are not the only one after all. You are not the only one accumulating fat in the nether areas of your body because you have to sit all day at work, stare at your PC and are allergic to exercise.
I remember my days of the “hot”(I’ll write about that too), when I could fit into tiny jeans and fitted shirts. Now I wear baggy clothes to hide my indisputably bulgy tummy and flabby arms. I have tyres, yes sir I do.
You know how when you are graduating from university, you are thinking: ‘This is it, the corporate dream. I will now look professional and put-together, I will eat better and I will talk intelligent’. No one told me it was all downhill from there. No one told me, on top of being over-worked and under-paid, with no time to look professional or put-together, I will sit at my desk all day, still eating junk food during work and not having either the inclination or the will to fulfill the dreams that I once dreamt.
Before you think this post is going to be a long session of whining, let me correct you. This post is going to tell you just how sitting for 9 plus hours, in a crouched position is slowly and surely killing you; like not only sucking life out of your soul (which is a given really) but also making you fat, giving your body more chances of getting heart attack and diabetes (among other life-wrecking threats) and really, just puts your body on a mental and physical stress roll.
I found this very enlightening infographic which gives you statistical proof that this is not a myth and if people at your workplace are mentally pinning you down as one of the ‘fat ones’ who eat a lot (and you don’t even eat that much *sob*) you are probably a victim and you need help!
Via: Medical Billing And Coding
