Nothing terribly worthy of being put down, other than the blog itself maybe. One shot of air bubble injected. Like into two of my then not so old dogs. Cynicism reaching new heights, if that were possible. An M.A degree that will for sure NOT, and shouldn't even be mine. Can't. Like no way Jose. Two years, wasted time. Perspective dependent perhaps, for like a friend said itna time bacha ke karna kya hai; sounds too good to be true.
Light of the tunnel neareth. One big lethargic stretch. Long lost school friend back in town. Fun, guilt ridden pre-world cup final beer induced sluggishness. Great weather to win the cup in though. Barbados. Where sometime back , school time, Brooke Logan "Forrestor forrestor forrestor" had run off to "get away". TV kills, its been doing that to me; dulls senses, numbs instinct. Well maybe not Oprah. Long exhaling days. Focus less. I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. I don't feel driven enough to, and I don't want to look at the insides of an office for too long. I might want to write, but what the hell about?! Could and perhaps should seriously consider that environment; larger purpose etc.
Perhaps must be my favourite word. Diane Lane's is Soul. Reiterating TV point. More whiny angst because I think I'm sick of my friends. And I don't seem to care enough, even if they are sick of me. And such a super idea it is to blare it out on a two and a half reader blog; still maybe it's all justified in the name of therapy. I could've just earned myself 500 bucks for my own self conducted session. Bored to tears. And my dear blogo, if u are reading this -- is just one of the reasons why it isn't 'time for another'. It should not be time for another till something changes for the better, and not just a depressing mood. I think it was some Helen Hunt movie, the "anger is depression with nowhere to go". Phbt. Raspberry.
Light of the tunnel neareth. One big lethargic stretch. Long lost school friend back in town. Fun, guilt ridden pre-world cup final beer induced sluggishness. Great weather to win the cup in though. Barbados. Where sometime back , school time, Brooke Logan "Forrestor forrestor forrestor" had run off to "get away". TV kills, its been doing that to me; dulls senses, numbs instinct. Well maybe not Oprah. Long exhaling days. Focus less. I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. I don't feel driven enough to, and I don't want to look at the insides of an office for too long. I might want to write, but what the hell about?! Could and perhaps should seriously consider that environment; larger purpose etc.
Perhaps must be my favourite word. Diane Lane's is Soul. Reiterating TV point. More whiny angst because I think I'm sick of my friends. And I don't seem to care enough, even if they are sick of me. And such a super idea it is to blare it out on a two and a half reader blog; still maybe it's all justified in the name of therapy. I could've just earned myself 500 bucks for my own self conducted session. Bored to tears. And my dear blogo, if u are reading this -- is just one of the reasons why it isn't 'time for another'. It should not be time for another till something changes for the better, and not just a depressing mood. I think it was some Helen Hunt movie, the "anger is depression with nowhere to go". Phbt. Raspberry.
2 comments:
I like your stream of thought. I think I've been there in terms of the boredom and ennui. It was when I was doing my MSc in IIT Bombay. The neanderthal geeks were getting to me.
Oh dear. I believe the technical term for your condition is 'stultification,' and what you need is a nice dose of stimulation. Where it shall come from, I cannot yet say. Get out of India for a bit. Iowa Writer's Workshop? Let's talk sometime.
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