Wednesday, March 16, 2011




The sort of refreshing feeling you get when you're first thrown into a big delicious swimming pool in the heat is indescribable. Companies try and simulate this feeling by producing splash astringents, people try and simulate it by splashing water on their faces in blistering heat or soporific hazes. But nobody can describe the real deal.

We're supposed to splash our lives into a new job that we love, a new hobby that moves us, a new aim that makes us want to leap out of bed each morning. It's all in with the new, they say. I've seen people buy so much new stuff over the last few days, it's scary. It almost leaves a sort of luxury to hand-me-down objects now, because they're not new. They're not the splash. They're the woody, heady smell of old books, of pages turned, of events past, washing over you and welcoming you into their pool of life. Prized family Watches and Family Heirlooms, for example. People try and simulate this feeling by buying antiques. But nobody can describe the real deal.

Another feeling I love is the one where familiarity re-visits you. Walking past college gates, drinking the same cup every morning, surviving hellish days to come home to your same old bed and fall asleep holding the same old soft pillow. Going back to that old haunt and getting your usual order. Wishing the same people good night every night before sleeping. The smell of a perfume you used for a prolonged period in your life. People try and simulate this by viewing old photo albums, establishing rules and routines, using the same stationery for years to come and reminiscing every chance they get. But nobody can describe the real deal.

What's better sometimes is familiarity's riddance. The Sigh of relief when your old engineering books have been given away, knowing you never have to study them. The relief you feel when you realise that old battles no longer exist. Saying good-bye to old, bigger sized clothing. Saying good-bye to abuse. People simulate this by spring cleaning, burning their bridges and celebrating smaller victories- last english exam, last physics exam. But nobody can describe the real deal.

I'd love to tell you what I believe splashing into love is like, opening old novels is like, a weekend with my old friends is like and saying goodbye to the demons of my past is like. I really would.
But I can't even begin to describe the real deal.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

One year

What do you do when you want a year to speed up, only to have the first six months slow down?

Things can change in 24 hours. Life can change in 24 hours. You can go from knowing that you're going to be wearing suede boots at the end of the year to realizing that you'll actually be wearing more sunscreen than anything else. You can go from having a very "this is what I want" life to a "Maybe this is better for me" life. The last few weeks have been like an egg- and only time (we're talking a decade, maybe?!) will tell if that egg turns out sunny side up or scrambled.

Somewhere along the line, I've become a big hypocrite. Yikes! I've written about leather in an Animal Planet diary. I've told people what's not negotiable when somewhere in my head, that could be proved wrong. I expected things to be different, what..a year ago, and they aren't. I thought I'd leave things behind, to find that things and people will leave me. I thought I'd have no time to even breathe, to having a year of time filling to do.

I'm going to miss so many people, things, events, past and situations over the next one year. EVERYTHING is going to change, and what's the thing I'm worst at? You got it, change.

I do have a plan, though. I always have a plan. It takes time, and it isn't always the best, but I have a plan.
I took this from silverstreak's blog.

No thinking. No analyzing. No time.

Let's hope it works:)

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