One of the reasons I haven't been writing is that I never intended for this blog to be a "quick-update-about-how-cool-my-life-is" kind of a blog. So this post makes me feel like I'm cheating on my ideologies, since I am going to be giving you snippets of all that transpired while I have been away.
But I promise that I have a point. That is, if you have the patience to stick with me till the end.
I have been singing. And making new friends. A song brings people together like a dance never can. While a dance may say "I'm into you" or "we get along well". I song together says "I like you" or "I feel you". And really, nothing makes me happier than singing out loud. It started with my landing up at TC, for a beer after work on a certain Thursday. They had karaoke going on, and I got hooked. Since then, I have been living my life, one Thursday at a time. So, one Thursday I'm Alicia "Off-keys", the next I'm "Lady Marmalade", yet another time I'm tutoring everyone to "walk like an Egyptian". If you happen to be in TC on a given Thursday, look up the small girl with a loud voice.
I have been working hard and partying harder. Literally. Even though it came at a cost of sleepless nights and I am pretty sure that at one point of time I had more Red Bull running through my veins than blood. I also got a much awaited appraisal. I am a sucker for good beginnings and I have a good feeling about 2011.
The hair's growing out. As someone commented earlier on my post, maybe I'm making peace with my life now.
I'm back on Facebook. *sigh* I know, let's not get started on that. But it was good to know that I was missed.
I haven't yet met anyone special, but then I haven't been trying awfully hard at it either. Not that companionship is not desirable, but it seems to require such a tremendous amount of effort to "pick up" a new relationship, that I have sort of put my hand off and grown out of it. So I haven't been asking for anyone's number, and I haven't been allowing small talk to reach a stage where a man asks for my number. And that is such a relief.
China was great. No; that is an understatement: it was abso-fuckin-lutely awesome! In fact it was like "the small cherry on top of the regular cherry on top of the sundae of awesomeness" (as Barney Stinson would have put it.). Okay, that was lame. But lame can be true. Right? It was good to ultimately take the vagabond out of the armchair. Beijing deserves a post all to itself, so I will save it for another time.
I have almost nailed that elusive feeling of belonging to Delhi. Almost there, I mean. Though the escapist in me is trying hard to convince me against planting flowers in my terrace, I bought new furniture; at least. I can almost call Delhi as home, though not just yet.
Bottomline: I am happy.
This is where I begin to have a problem.
I can't do "happy" anymore without feeling guilty, or fearful, or panicky.
There was a time; I am not sure how long back, but it feels like eternity; when I believed that I deserved to be happy. That life owed me all such.
So since when did I start touching wood every time life gave me a little treat? Since when did I start holding myself back every time my heart began to swell with exhilaration? Since when did the feeling of contentment in life inevitably start giving way to the mean reds? And since when did I start believing that no "ever after" would ever follow my "happily"?
To my mind it doesn't make sense to have too much of something you are so scared of losing: too much love; too much joy. Too much of anything that makes me want to touch wood immediately thereafter.
Have I become wiser or just cynical? Or is it plain paranoia?
Or have I simply lost that loving feeling?
