Quarter Century. Silver Jubilee. Mid-life crisis?

So this is what it's like to feel 25, eh? I think I'm having a mid-life crisis. Which, if I did my math right (and I do suck at math), means that 50 is it for me. Anything above that and I'm living on borrowed time. Which I don't mind borrowing, provided I'm loaded, still as hot as I am (someone's laughing in my head. Wtf? Shut up back there!) and, well, doing whatever I want to do.

Which brings me back to... Huh? What's that sign say? 'What...do...you...want...to...' Argh! How'd I get here again? No, no, I'm not doing this... besides, if I go by MissAlister's theory (which I'm sure has been well researched) I'm not supposed to know for at least another 20 years. So there!

Although the whole point of knowing is lost if my life expectancy is 50. So...

Anyhoo, enjoy this day. Have a pint on me. Cheers!

1

Just the one day left.

Here,
there,
everywhere,
it seems the world has gone away.

I'm sitting in an empty room,
inside an empty office,
inside an empty building,
inside an empty city,
inside an empty country,
inside an empty continent,
inside an empty earth,
inside an empty solar system,
inside an empty galaxy,
inside an empty universe,
inside my empty head.

And I'm not moving.

This is starting to scare me.

2

I've had this open all day. Since I came in to work in the morning(ish). There are just two days left until I turn 25. It's a scary thought. At what age are you supposed to know where you're headed? I've known people who've figured it all out earlier. I know more people today who haven't.

I will not deny you this: this way, it's more fun.

But I usually have these 'what if' moods--I guess everyone does--where I wonder how things might've turned out if I'd actually planned them. But 'planning' requires a lot more will power and concentration than I'm (ready) willing (and able) to give. More tomorrow.

For a friend.

I may not be your man,
but I'm your #1 fan.

Attempting to achieve Goal Number One

This effort to move is proving to be quite the effort. My fault for assuming this would be easy. My fault for assuming that life would cut me a break. I'm not bitter, though I know I sound the part. I'm just a little peeved I suppose. At myself. Never assume. When you assume...

Thing is, I know life handed me lemons. And I've made some lemonade. But so far, nobody's buying any. Makes me wonder if the lemons were overripe or green and I was too late, or too early. Then again, I might just suck at making lemonade.

This mystery I'm solving, this life, I keep getting clues along the way. I think my recent trip to Bangalore (Bang-galore, but not this time around) was just that I might finish reading No Country For Old Men. For a lesson in the futility of leaving the past behind. It's who I am, up until this point, up until right now. If I leave it behind, what am I left with?

Exactly.

So while I was trying, desperately, to find a job in Bangalore and leave my (very recently, quite jingoistic) city of birth behind, someGodsomepowersomeonesomething made sure I understood I'd never be able to leave my past behind. I understand. This is who I've got; this is who I'll be through to the end. Damn right.

Torn from my notebook...

Here are a couple of corners of pages filled. They might not make sense, but I didn't want to forget where I am right now, where I was a few months ago.

1
...especially when i'm not sure as to why i should be keen on something that isn't happening, but that i'm trying to make happen. Life has, so far, just happened to me. It hasn't been my effort, well, rarely, but still, it hasn't been anything that i've done. it's just been fate, destiny and all of the forces of the universe that have thrown things at me that i've attempted to catch like a blind man who's learnt that martial art you only learn in movies where you catch something by just listening to the air whoosh by.

2
I am
like
slivers of silver oranges,
precious but only semi,
peeled and left... unnoticed.

My love
is like
an unwanted, old balloon,
deflated and chained with cotton,
to the remnants of life's celebrations.

If I am, then you are too,
if I bleed, then so will you,
if I die, then you will wish it too.

If this is what you meant,
if this is what you wanted,
if this is how you saw it happen,
then go find someone else to fuck you,
and kiss you, while you dreamhopepray
it's okay.

A little update...

I want to quit my job. Really. If there has ever been anything that could take the fun out of listening to music, this is it. I write about music; well, I'm supposed to. But I haven't felt for anything that I've written in a long time. Since March of last year, working for an article that was released in April. I wrote something critical actually, but I had fun writing it. It wasn't merely an update of what was happening in so-and-so's life, but an analysis of a certain situation, and a certain stance that the artist had adopted. Okay, fuck that, I hate talking vaguely. So the Dixie Chicks had just won some Grammys and everyone was ooh-aahing about them being so coolly rebellious. But I didn't think so. And that was the one, and only, time that I expressed my opinion...in a music magazine. I don't think music magazines were meant to suppress opinions or only print positively. I could be wrong; please tell me if you think so. I think that music magazines do two things: educate and instigate. Because that's what music does. Music educates you; life, love, politics, religion. Everything that you hear is supposed to make you think. And music instigates you. It is muse-ic (if you'll forgive the pun). It inspires you to create, inspires you to use your mind for once in your follow-the-well-trodden-path life. So that's what we're supposed to do too, right? Wrong. Apparently I'm wrong. If I am, then I'd rather be wrong than suck up. I'd rather be wrong than hope that people pick up my magazine just because I agree with them. Ooh, he's hot... Ooh, she's hot. That's all I hear. Stop it already; stop swallowing everything so effortlessly just because it's sugar-coated. That's what I did for the first 20-odd years of my life, but these 4-5 years after my 'rebirth', they have been the only ones that have mattered. Ignorance may be bliss, but it's not for me, it's not for us.

So, yea, I want to quit.