It ought to be regular

-
Sometimes, it is best to go with what you’re thinking. To just go and do it. Don’t worry. I am not talking about sexual fantasies and going on to bang the next nude guy you see. Procrastination seems to be fine at the moment when you’re doing it. The period post it is horrible. And you know what? We make every effort to not make it horrible by doing other horrible things. Like wasting more time. Is what I am doing right now procrastination? What do I think is procrastination? Do I need a dictionary for it? No. It’s not listening to what your heart says what you should do at the time when it says so. At the present moment, it asked me to write. So here I am, spilling whatever my heart dictates.

The other day I wanted to write about a cigarette. I was entering the college gate with my friends after having had a smoke at the rocks. But I didn’t write. And I didn’t do anything otherwise too. Why? I don’t know. Was it because I was influenced? Or was it because some other crazy thing was on my mind? Or was it some dumb reasoning I gave to myself to not to write? I have no idea and I feel there’s no point breaking my head over it now. There have been several other moments when I have wanted to write something and I have had the words and the mood to write but there has been something stupidly incomprehensible that has prevented me from doing so. Ugh!

I have a nice circle of friends here. I have come to identify the people I like spending time with. Our chit-chats are awesome and they don’t really seem like a time waste (at least now!). There are a thousand other things that I have to do. Like studying, for example. But no. Even when I get down to doing it, after a certain point of time, I simply can’t continue. Maybe there’s a concentration problem or maybe I am deviated easily. But I somewhere know that I am capable. I guess everyone does. Maybe it’s just the beginning of it all. Let’s see. I don’t know what I am writing. Fuck it. Some other time.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Love Spoils (II)

-
Such a weird creature, desire. A few weeks ago, I was narrating my experience of a date to a friend. Although things didn't work out eventually, the night itself was memorable. We had dinner, went on a drive, made out in his car and debated the logistics of having sex in that limited space. But we didn't. Especially because I wanted the date to go, for once, according to me. And anyway, I enjoy making out more than anything else. I can spend hours exploring a person's mouth, ruffling through their hair and touching their skin. And he was happy to oblige. Whenever I think of that night, I ask myself this question - What do I really miss? The person, or the experience? Are these two questions so exclusive anyway? However, the answer is always 'experience'. I do miss the excitement of getting ready, going out, taking the metro, stepping into a restaurant, to (preferably) see someone waiting, talking and then (hopefully) going for a walk or a drive. I miss the process.
Read more

Unlikely City

-
Image
There was a slight rustle in the palm tree across the garden abutting the lake and I noticed an old worn-out branch crashing on the manicured lawn below. The city lights reflected in the water and the moon shone bright in a starless sky. I could neither hear the water rippling slowly nor the cars driving by on the other side of the lake made any sound. Just tiny flickers of light following each other, as if in a school parade instructed by a rather stern-looking instructor. I stubbed my cigarette on the rusty balcony railing and waited for the smoke to vanish completely before heading back into the room to plant myself between two bodies and be alone again.   I often find myself alone with my thoughts. Sometimes, it seems like a pointless, melancholic and pretentious exercise of talking to myself. Sometimes, I want to write them down that very moment but often don’t for either lack of effort or resources. And sometimes, I go into long winding imaginations of the future, rather of mysel
Read more

Love Spoils

-
I swipe through profiles on Tinder, almost as a force of habit. When I match with someone, I'm thrilled. I send an excited message to them, hoping they'd reply. Sometimes, there is a short lived conversation. Sometimes so short that it ends with an "I'm good". Sometimes, it develops into a long monologue about life, love, loss and longing. And they are reminded of me only when there is something else to rant about. And I'm forced to think, "Am I not approaching people the right way?", "Are my 'hi's and 'hello's too regular and boring?", "Am I a boring person to chat with, in the first place?", "Do people only want to talk about their life problems with me?". One of my friends recently told me (and a group of other friends) that I give "amazing teacher vibes". Now, of course, that's a compliment, considering the professional stage I'm in. But has that always been so? These compliments/cha
Read more