“I am always late on principle, my principle being that punctuality is the thief of time.”― Oscar Wilde
From the experiences I have had in my short life I would tend to agree with him. Earlier I used to be furious at being kept waiting but now I just keep myself busy reading, writing, checking emails, tweeting inane things, commenting on posts I’d rather not, watching people, taking pictures, listening to songs, deleting stuff from the phone – whatever suits my mood at that point in time. I know what you are thinking, thank heavens for a smartphone, right? Without a smartphone it ain’t pretty, I get downright restless.
So that when the person I am waiting for actually arrives, looking up won’t be easy since I am immersed in ‘work’ which gives the illusion of being busy (so as not to look like a total loser for being on time). I can easily feign nonchalance, resist the urge to shout and lie that it wasn’t a bother waiting for 45 minutes or thinking that I might perhaps have been stood up (sob!).
If I am not busy and just stare at the watch looking at the minutes pass away waiting, I might blow a fuse and lose it in the true sense of the word. Well at least I wasn’t twiddling my thumbs like last time or mouthing obscenities in my mind. Or thinking of ways of storming out for maximum drama while shouting tardiness will not be tolerated when the person does arrive (Yay I have not been stood up). It is better than shooting daggers or sulking and losing the remaining time left. Life is precious and the minutes are ticking by.
I always like to have time to stand and stare but I would like to do it on my own time, thank you very much. I don’t like to be forced to stand in the hot sun staring at moving vehicles while breathing in polluted air. This is the not the time for it. This was our time together, half of which is now gone.
Waiting for people who never come. Reading meanings into things that never were. This is the tragedy of life. Will I fight against it all my life? I am weary in my bones and in my soul, and to live life as it is, is torturous. Yet I carry on in the world of living, as unzombie like as I can be, trying hard not to be a soulless automaton. Growing older, I have given up deciphering what it all means, in the quest to find peace, if not joy.
Some things aren’t for my puny brain to make sense of. Joining the dots and finding the thread of interconnectedness is something bigger than myself. It’s not my job to waste precious neurons and try to figure it all out. Life figures itself out. I ain’t dead yet. So why should I live life as if it didn’t matter, when it is the only thing that is real and tangible.
Does anyone need friends? I never thought I would be standing here on our beautiful blue Planet (soon to be rendered uninhabitable) asking this question. If someone asked me this some years back, I would have looked at them as if they had sprouted two horns. Once upon a time I would have done anything for my friends. What changed? What if I say I don’t need any friends? Not because friendship as a relationship is dead. Maybe my standards are too high (I was afraid that I have set them too low for the fear of disappointing myself) or I’m too idealistic (no surprise there). But really, is it just a plain give and take a la barter system?
Recently while talking to a friend, she said friendship is an emotional investment we make and why should we continue to make that investment when there is no return? That stopped me in my tracks (not literally because I was sitting on the bed). I was stunned into silence (that is no mean feat). Does everything have to have a tangible
return? How did everything get equated in terms of returns? Barter system. Give and take. Take and give. I heard myself replying that it’s okay if there’s no return as long as there’s nothing negative, and that’s where I draw the line. Yeah, right. Being burnt to cinders, I mean. Another friend while answering a poll question, when asked what do you need friends for, ticked the option using them. She was honest enough to admit that it came automatically to her. I had no comeback for that. Being friends with people for the sake of using them is despicable. But then what do I know about the world.
Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light- Helen Keller
What if it’s a frenemy? You will probably end up in a hospital with a memory loss in that case!
There are categories – acquaintances, friends, enemies and frenemies. I have never understood the need for the last category. I’d love to have enemies (not in a sadistic way but in a way that says we are equal in our hate and dislike) but it’s frenemies I can’t stand. Yes I know who you are, you are fooling no one. You want to act like you are my friend then start taking acting classes! You criticize and hate a person but keep a person close only so you know what they are up to, so you can sabotage or disparage them behind their backs, yet acting like you have their best interests at heart. That is pretty low, like viruses who use their hosts for replicating and in return, destroy them. Win-Win. Give me an honest rascal any day, who has the guts to say what he/she feels to my face, rather than a “friend” who wouldn’t think twice before doing an “Et tu, Brute”, and is just waiting for the perfect time to strike.
I don’t need friends. I want friends, always have, to share my uninteresting life with (happy now). I have no place for frenemies in my life and neither the time or inclination to indulge in acting. Enemies, of course, are always welcome. A worthy adversary is worth one’s weight in gold. Or so I am told.
People forget and forget so easily. Faces. Names. Feelings. Memories. Everything. Where did it all go? You wonder if it ever really happened in the first place. Where are the keepsakes and the letters? Why don’t people think in what might have beens? Why don’t they hold on till their last breath? Why wasn’t there a last phone call? Why let it go all so easily as if it didn’t matter in the first place at all? Is getting over things so damn easy?
The face in the picture fades. The once loved name ceases to matter. The name which you once worshipped becomes just another word that you know but will never use. The song brings back memories of the days gone by and nostalgia is now tinged with sadness.
Feelings are the worse part,they say. But if you can’t remember that heady feeling, the crest like highs and the bottomless lows, then yours is a heart or a machine, I ask?
Fond memories, warped memories, twisted memories and downright bad memories are all better than having no recollection whatsoever.
What’s the use if everything is so ephemeral, the rational mind harps? You think you have a second chance at everything but you never do. Life is harsh dear girl, get used to it. Shut up, I say. I will listen to you when the time is right (read after I’m dead).
I know everyone is waiting with bated breath for your dreams to shatter, they can enjoy the noise and think, yes we are better off with the practical approach to life. All the pain will be worth it. Now she, the naive whimsical idealistic dreamer will know real pain. Oh victory at last !
O capricious fate you will never win. Not over me. The last laugh may not be mine but it certainly won’t be yours, get it? I live, love , get hurt and go through a gamut of emotions but that doesn’t stop me from delving back in with full force, with all my optimism and enthusiasm. With all I have. Jaded? Me? Never for long. Nothing lasts forever. My yo-yo like nature allows me to spring back from both walk-on-the-cloud-nine happiness and drown-yourself-in-the-drug-of-your-choice sadness. It can happen in an instant and can even take years but happen it will. I am the same old soul, nothing tarnishes me forever.
Who will know the value of dreams if they aren’t shattered? Like the rose tinted glasses I keep handy, it’s okay if they are lost. I will find myself a new one or may be go off without it and see what the fuss is all about.