Urban Disconnect

It's like I have a talent for putting my heart and soul into all the wrong things, the wrong places and the wrong people. As a result of which my faith in humanity gets shattered from time to time. Over and over again.

The last couple of weeks have been excruciating  for me. But I won't complain anymore. There's nobody who will listen anyway.

God's unwanted child.
Lonely as hell.

So I walk.
Away from this wretched city.
Away from my pain.
Away from myself.

I've walked too far away to come back home.
I've walked away, again...

Sweet Song- Blur

"I'm a darkened soul
My street's all pop music and gold
Our lives are on TV
You switch off and try to sleep
People get so lonely..." -Blur


I dream the same dream every night now. I've never felt so lost ever before in my life. I wish there was a sign-to show me the way. I've never felt this confused.
The memories are starting to fade. Disappearing bit by bit.

But they haven't gone away just yet. All it takes is one push, everything goes back into rewind mode again.

I remember the intensity in Monster's eyes. The colour of the shirt he wore. His flawless body. How amused he seemed. Yet determined.
I remember words. Stray actions. But nothing else.
Of the most twisted sexual encounter of my life.

Abuse is a mental thing.
The body heals in no time. The brain, unfortunately, isn't all that naive.


"It takes time to see what you have done
So I wean myself off slowly..."


And despite all the things that Monster made me go through, I still wish him well. I hope he leads a good life.


Some part of me wants to be 12 and do it all over again. I don't know why. Maybe because I am damaged beyond repair.
This isn't who I have become. This is who I am.


"But I hope I see the good in you come back again
I just believed in you..."

Maroon, Macaroon

I miss being a bitchy-bitch at times. If there's one thing that all this unnecessary aging is instilling in me, is to be sort of passive to all that is hurled my way. It's strange how all the noise doesn't bother me anymore. All the whispers seem to come from down below-all the more reason why I don't even pretend to get agitated anymore.

I have recurring dreams of the monster sometimes. That is the only thing that scares me. What if I meet him again? Do I have the strength to not break down if I do?

I have been sober for too damn long. I've been acting responsible for too damn long. I've been working too damn hard.
I need to loosen up.
I deserve a break.

Bring out the hashish.
It's high time that I bake a batch of brownies.

Happy And Gay

I was watching an episode of Roadies today, yes, ROADIES, (please don't judge me for it) and I was quite taken aback by their views on homosexuality in India and in general. I didn't quite expect them to speak out in favour of homosexuality so openly, to be very honest. It was very bittersweet. While I really appreciate the producers' (they are also the judges and the hosts of the show) sensitivity towards people with alternate sexualities and the effort that they made in trying to propagate the fact that THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING GAY, LESBIAN, BISEXUAL OR TRANSGENDERED, I felt extremely sad at the same time as I watched them interview a candidate who was gay. Why does someone's sexuality become a matter of concern to others in a reality show based on adventures on a bike, how is it even relevant?
Why should the fact that someone is gay or not matter so much to others. We never give a second thought when it comes to accepting straight people in our lives, but why this sudden paranoia when it comes to the LGBT community?
Sadly this ignorance has nothing to do with education. A lot of so called "educated" people still think that being gay is a "disease" or a choice that one consciously makes and can thus be undone by a visit to a shrink.
It's really very sad. I feel disgusted by such ignorance around me. But sadly, people are so obstinate that it's very difficult to make them see the real side of the story.

I often wonder what it would have been like if the person that I am in love with was a woman. Would people treat me as nonchalantly as they do now or shun me like an outcaste, an untouchable? A woman can please me as much as a man can. I don't differentiate between the two. The are both equal to me. Yes, I AM BISEXUAL and if you have a problem with that, well, then you're the one who should change your mindset. There is nothing wrong with me, the problem lies with you.

This contestant on Roadies (whose name, face etc were blurred for privacy) was speaking on behalf of not just himself, but a lot of people and it was so painful to watch. It's so sad how he kept apologizing to his parents for letting them down, ruining their reputation. Why? Because he is gay. Isn't that pathetic? I can't even imagine the trauma that he has to live with, like it's his fault. 

Educate yourself, world.
Don't be so prejudiced, without knowledge.
Today you point your fingers at them, tell them that they don't belong.
Tomorrow, somebody else's definition of an outcaste might just be you!

I Think I'm Dumb

I didn't kill myself like I thought I would. Just been getting high at every given opportunity.
Fuck everything. I enjoy living in solitude anyway.

It's been about 7-8 years since I first started listening to Nirvana. In Utero will always be my favourite album, no matter what. I love them so much it hurts!

"Haters Gonna Hate!"

I have recently discovered that negativity sort of keeps me going and it somehow makes me feel superior than most of the mindless and  alarmingly shallow people that throng this city. I don't mean to offend anybody by saying this but my blog has two very distinct kind of readers-those who enjoy reading what I write and (probably) find inspiration from this and those who stalk because they love to hate me.

Honestly, I don't give a fuck about the latter. It's ironic how people like these act like such heroes in the virtual world-ganging up against someone, spreading hate for no apparent reason. But look a them in real life-so desperate for their 15 seconds of fame. Such incredibly boring and vacant people. I could almost feel sorry for them.
It's amazing how people talk about my private life incessantly. It's even more amazing when they choose public platforms and social networking sites to do so. It used to bother me earlier. But I've been fortunate enough to have collected snippets of advice and wisdom from some of my seniors, all of who have unanimously told me that the more people hate on you for no apparent reason, the more they are jealous of you for achievements they haven't experienced. So anyway, let them dwell in their negativity. I have enough positive vibrations within me to keep going.

Those of you who read this and somehow draw strength from it. Well, it's a two way thing, you make me strong as well. You push me to keep going and I would like to thank all of you for forcing me to get back here. Your feedback is very valuable to me.
The only piece of advice that I can offer, is that you need to love yourself. Everything else will follow suite. Try and love yourself. It's may be a very hard thing to do, but it's not impossible either. I've been trying to start loving myself unconditionally recently. It's a long road, but I know I'll get there someday!

I deleted my facebook account today. One step closer to the edge. I'm hanging on for the simple reason that the two people who gave birth to me will have nothing to fall back on without me around.
I'm not a coward. I just don't belong. So I give up trying to.

My apologies. My sincere apologies.

This will be my last blogpost for a while. I need some time out.
Goodbye.

I feel so empty, so hollow. I have no dreams, no aspirations. I have nothing to look forward to.

Self Hate. Hate Shelf.

It's very hard to love somebody else if you don't love yourself. It's very tough to love yourself, unconditionally. Is it even possible to love yourself unconditionally?
Not be content, but love yourself.
Will I ever?

I feel so incredibly lost at times, here I am, living the outgrown teenage dream, but what the fuck am I really doing? Is getting a degree, filling my head up with random knowledge about inconsequential things and subsequently finding a job that won't make me tear my hair out every morning, all that there is to life?
Why has my will to question, to think started to diminish? I am starting to conform to mediocrity and it's killing me. I can't go up on stage without a drink to calm my nerves these days. This, mind you, has nothing to do with the audience, but that nagging voice inside my head which is continually reminding me that I am starting to become a sell-out. I hate the road that I am going down. The worst part is that I chose, nobody forced me to.

I wish I were a little less harsh on myself at times, a little less critical. I wish I could loosen up like most people my age. I need a holiday, real bad. Either that or some really strong substance to trip on and drain the pessimism from my head, even if it's only for a while.

Stuff My Dreams Are Made Of

A lazy winter afternoon. Short stories by D.H. Lawrence. Vivaldi's Concerto I, Spring Allegro. Venus In Furs. Scotch.

cut to, an idle winter evening. The Bell Jar. Trainspotting. Marijuana. Fear And Loathing at Las Vegas. steamed momos. The Little Prince

Winter night. Jack and coke. The Who. Led Zeppelin. Yellow Submarine. The Adventures of Alice In Wonderland.

:)

I Lie. Sometimes.

I was going through some of my posts in the past, only to start laughing. I lied. A lot of times. Just to make a few people concerned happy.
The truth is I never really loved, say, my ex boyfriend or any of the people I had a fling with. I'm sorry, but I guess I never let them understand because I pretended to so well.
I can be horribly manipulative at times. At all times, when I've been pretending to be the lamb, I've actually been a lion, waiting patiently for my prey to fall into my trap. I may have used some people to fulfill my own needs, told them everything they've wanted to hear and convinced them a cent percent that I am addicted to them. But like all humans, I lied. I lied well. Covered all my tracks like a serial killer. Not even for a moment did I deviate from the character that I was projecting myself to be. I was an actor. A damn good one that too. I am not ashamed. I don't have an aorta of regret in me for playing with them.
But to be fair, I only played around with those who had the same intentions towards me. So that sort of makes me a less of a bitch now, doesn't it? If men can play, women can too. Let's not forget that there is nothing more dangerous in the world than the fury of a wronged woman.
I feel a little lighter now that I have confessed.

Anyway, before anyone starts pointing fingers at my current relationship, let me tell you a secret. The reason why we're going so strong despite all the mud slung at us initially, is because we're in it for the real deal, the 'l' word and not because of fame, money, power etc.

Cheers!

Oh dear life!

Monday to Friday- Absolut with cranberry juice. Just one large drink.
Saturday and Sunday- Either the same or some JD with coke. One maybe two large ones, depending on how much money I can afford to spend.

Oh dear lord, are these early signs that point straight towards alcoholism?

This. That. Monster. Etc.

Realisation dawned upon me like a slap in the face a while ago. I just realised that the incredibly masochistic pattern that I underwent for years now was because of the monster. My theory is that I still haven't been able to resolve the conflicts in my head. So all this while, I was subconsciously punishing myself by purposely picking out people who resembled the monster in some way or the other and letting them destroy my sense of self worth. I'm not saying that this holds true for everybody, but most people,yes. I have purposely stifled my intuition in the past, as a result of which I have been able to break the cycle only recently.
The trauma of abuse is one that doesn't go away easily, if at all. I am still waiting for the day when it stops affecting me. Many would think of me as a sissy, who needs to "grow up and get over it". I wish it were that simple, I really wish it were.

But no matter how complicated (or rather fucked up) my thoughts can get, one thing that I know for sure is that I'm a survivor. I will hold my head high no matter what. Nothing can break me again. I'm no longer 12 years old, nobody can hurt me without my consent anymore. You know why?
Because I love myself too much to break again. I have a two very loving and understanding parents. A boy who loves me no less even on my worst days and a whole lot of other things to fall back on.

So hurl your obstacles at me, world. I will survive.

Grandma

Since when did I start to grow so old? I always pictured myself as the fire that would never go out, but I guess I was wrong, I am not as deep as I think of myself to be-just somebody who's bored out of their wits.

Or maybe it's a bad case of an identity crisis, since I'm no longer a girl and yet I HATE to consider myself a woman just yet, for I lack the basic etiquette.
When was it exactly that I traded my jeans for a dress,
my chucks for 6 inch heels
and my natural vigour for a heavily pancaked face?
Was it recently or too long ago?
Can I go back to the point when the mess was made and do it all over again?




I need a stiff drink to calm these overtly hyper nerves.
But I only drink scotch these days, tsk tsk!


PS-I bought myself a guitar on Monday. A Fender acoustic. Had almost bought a Takamine, but I guess the Fender was written in my destiny, here's a stock photo of the one I got. Needless to say, it's beauty is such that  I just can't seem to put it down. I have this annoying urge to continually play it. So I guess all IS well.

(pic courtesy the Fender website. http://www.fender.com/)
This is a CD-60. A few months later, when I have some money, will add Fishman pickups to this, or atleast that is what the current plan is!)

Resolution Twenty Twelve

I'm the kind who makes new year resolutions at the drop of a hat and then proceeds to break them with equal ease. So this year, I have kept them simple-to read more, to write more and to study. By studying I don't mean preparing for tests and exams, but REALLY study. There's nothing more satisfying than filling yourself up with a little bit of knowledge everyday. I miss going to the BCL and spending all my mornings/afternoons there. I don't think I have the time for that anymore. But I will try my best this year to read as much as I can. My target for the month is to finish these three books that I have managed to acquire:

'Venus In Furs' by Leopold Von Sacher-Masoch

 'Sons And Lovers' by D.H. Lawrence

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath.


Apart from this, I have FINALLy got my hands on a copy of the journals of Kurt Cobain, but I wont add that to the list. It'll take time for me to finish. I want to soak in each and every word in there, like a fanatic...

End of Year Despair

This year started off with a bang but gradually lost it's fizz towards the end. Maybe because I haven't been keeping too well somehow. All the stress and the vigorous schedule that I've put myself through has taken it's toll on me. I'm perpetually sick these days, either physically and if not then mentally.

Dunno why. Wish this phase would end soon.

But staying at home has it's benefits too, I tend to work and think best when I'm alone, isolated and when nobody can reach me. Or vice-versa. I've been writing a lot of intimate, bare-it-all-esque snippets lately. A chorus, stray choruses and maybe a bridge or two. I need to sit down and put them together. But my songs are too intimate to be shared with others, or maybe I've just scared of having my heart broken. Either way, I'm not quite ready to share them with the world. Maybe I will someday, hopefully very soon.
I do wish I were a better guitar player than I am at times, there's nothing more consoling than playing yourself your own songs when you're felling the blues...

Watched  500 Days Of Summer yesterday and I don't know which I like more, the movie or it's soundtrack. It's amazing how a god background score and soundtrack can COMPLETELY turn a movie around.
Anyway, the movie sort of got me thinking about love. Is it really worth it, at the end of the day? Why do we feel the need to be loved at all times, can't we ever be in a secure enough place to successfully live our life out in isolation, without love?
Why do we need to love, to procreate?
Why do we need to make money, to live a luxurious life that will ultimately make someone love us for the security that wealth provides?
Why is coitus such a pleasurable act, is it because our brains are conditioned to project it as something that brings us pleasure just because it is an essential life function to ensure the continuity of our species?
So then, eating, sleeping and defecating should be equally pleasurable activities, shouldn't they?


What is sex, an act of pleasure or necessity? Or is it an essential life function?
Sine sex is the only natural way to ensure that humans don't become an extinct species, why the fuck is it such a taboo? It's incredibly ironic how conflicting our ideals are. For centuries, we've let "religion" cloud our judgement on basic matters concerning life and our well-being. But we're too ignorant to even notice how we are all just the same, living the same lie. Year after year. Decade after decade. Century after century. Only a handful have been brave enough to break free. I wish I belonged to that group, but sadly I too have been pre-programmed and it's too late to undo everything, without actually ''losing my mind''.
Maybe in the next life then?
:)

DO watch 500 Days Of Summer by the way,  you haven't already. It won't answer any of you questions on life and love, but it's definitely a great movie. Also, I may have a tiny crush on Zooey Deschanel's character Summer, maybe because she reminds me of myself in quite a few ways, but the character mind you, not the actual person.:) :)

Dance of the Destitute.

Young lovers in their prime.

Running out of time.

Hurriedly procreating,

And feeling so sublime.

Interchanging roles.

Emptying out the souls.

Searching for their hearts,

But finding gaping holes.

Like a ventriloquist.

Unable to resist.

Voices are stifled,

Another one added to the list.

They're all puppets in his hands.

Puppets on call.

Dance for him, pretty girl.

As the boys turn their heads towards the wall.

:)

http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/11/17/filthy-gorgeous/?ref=travel

Makes me happy, even if it's for a little while!