The Young and the Restless
High school - Check
Bachelor's Degree (in a subject I now personally wonder why I selected but publicly boast about) - Check
Start-up Job - Check
Masters' Degree - Being pursued (When I have to write my dissertation, this blog becomes more important)
I remember thinking as a kid (well, high school but that sure feels like a long time ago doesn't it?) that by the time I'm 24, my life would be sorted out - married (to a Leo DiCap-lookalike), fit (great metabolism, no Atkins), interesting career (no long commute and great salary), glowing skin, shiny hair. Don't laugh, I warned you that these were (are) childhood ambitions. Don't mock, you know you had (have) them too.
How close am I? Well, I'm in my room in London typing on a laptop that boasts the wallpaper of Leo, with low-cal baked crisps on my window sill, checking my infuriatingly empty mailbox (We'll get back to your application), picking at the latest pimple while brushing away my unkempt hair in a bun (It's not quite so grotesque but hey, I'm just a painter with words and other such pretentiousness).
So how did I get here? I thought I completed this whole rigamarole after graduation. Is this life testing me? This is what I get for eating a ham sandwich once during Navratras? Is this right? What is right anyway? What's next? Do I really want to know what's next? Is this some sort of mental puberty that I was unaware of (To be fair, I'm from a convent where even puberty was taught to us in senior year)? Am I finally existential? Can I be in 'cool gang' now? Just don't tell me I'm becoming a hipster (#nevergonnahappen). As eloquently as I can put it - arkbsghsgt TOO MANY FEELS.
I am talking about all this today and that's just because I want to avoid dissertation research and this blog was one level about seeing How I Met Your Mother (Ending: just kidding, you're adopted it was all a lie/ Ted's dead and this is all a dream/ Ted's insane with all the heartbreak and is muttering to himself in an insane asylum/ Ted's talking to the children of his lady friend of the night). That should tell you about how much I love discussing this topic. And if it does not, well, it's very little. It's the opposite of how long it has taken to tell us how Ted met the mother. I file these questions away like a safe that would need to be broken into my subconscious a la Inception. And once that safe is cracked open (how and why notwithstanding in my delusions of course), all the answers would come to me. However, since this is not, despite my very strong belief an episode of The Truman Show, there is no script, director or producer here. It's all on me. What do I do instead? Concentrate on other people's lives, solve their problems. I've come to realise that I have a magnificent capacity of living in denial, only I like to call it my fantasy land. I prefer to pretend to be easygoing and chill (taking each day as it comes BRO).
I look around (stalk on Facebook), talk to my peers and it seems that some people have really found the answers. Or are really good at selling happy lives (still better than those who whine 24/7 about travelling SO MUCH to Europe for work, God I feel so much for you, you overindulged hack). Or maybe it's just me. Even so, I try my hardest to reserve judgements to myself (or to my closest who signed up for this and cannot back off because this is freandship) and accept people for who they are (or in the case of most kids from Delhi, who they're not). In any event, I am happy to limp along (as yours truly in an effort to become healthy, fell on the way to a jog. If that's not God telling me to relax, I don't know what is. And no, I can't work out at all because you see I fell on one knee and twisted the other ankle. Boohoo. I'll just have some chocolate and painkillers to numb the pain).
My mellow approach has some benefits too. I've realised I'm more Bruce Wayne (super sauve, devilish, handsome in a tux, irresponsible, rich without working) than Batman (working for the good of Gotham, intelligently dangerous, supremely athletic and great with gadgets). The only way I'm like Batman is that I never get the girl (read boy in my case).
If you ever feel these feels, we can get together and not feel them while feeling them together. I know I am in a London Bubble right now and it'll burst soon but hopefully by then, I'll be prepared to crack that safe open myself and find some answers. In conclusion, I feel somewhat better in sharing my lackadaisical approach to life. - waiting for a train, a train to take me away, to I don't know where but somewhere I want to go because we would be together.
I knew seeing Inception last night was a bad idea. LEO you resilient virus.
Oh and to my parents, if you're reading this - it's all a joke. I have it all mapped out but it's more Frodo's journey to Mordor that took three movies than just flying in on eagles in the first place.
Bachelor's Degree (in a subject I now personally wonder why I selected but publicly boast about) - Check
Start-up Job - Check
Masters' Degree - Being pursued (When I have to write my dissertation, this blog becomes more important)
I remember thinking as a kid (well, high school but that sure feels like a long time ago doesn't it?) that by the time I'm 24, my life would be sorted out - married (to a Leo DiCap-lookalike), fit (great metabolism, no Atkins), interesting career (no long commute and great salary), glowing skin, shiny hair. Don't laugh, I warned you that these were (are) childhood ambitions. Don't mock, you know you had (have) them too.
How close am I? Well, I'm in my room in London typing on a laptop that boasts the wallpaper of Leo, with low-cal baked crisps on my window sill, checking my infuriatingly empty mailbox (We'll get back to your application), picking at the latest pimple while brushing away my unkempt hair in a bun (It's not quite so grotesque but hey, I'm just a painter with words and other such pretentiousness).
So how did I get here? I thought I completed this whole rigamarole after graduation. Is this life testing me? This is what I get for eating a ham sandwich once during Navratras? Is this right? What is right anyway? What's next? Do I really want to know what's next? Is this some sort of mental puberty that I was unaware of (To be fair, I'm from a convent where even puberty was taught to us in senior year)? Am I finally existential? Can I be in 'cool gang' now? Just don't tell me I'm becoming a hipster (#nevergonnahappen). As eloquently as I can put it - arkbsghsgt TOO MANY FEELS.
I am talking about all this today and that's just because I want to avoid dissertation research and this blog was one level about seeing How I Met Your Mother (Ending: just kidding, you're adopted it was all a lie/ Ted's dead and this is all a dream/ Ted's insane with all the heartbreak and is muttering to himself in an insane asylum/ Ted's talking to the children of his lady friend of the night). That should tell you about how much I love discussing this topic. And if it does not, well, it's very little. It's the opposite of how long it has taken to tell us how Ted met the mother. I file these questions away like a safe that would need to be broken into my subconscious a la Inception. And once that safe is cracked open (how and why notwithstanding in my delusions of course), all the answers would come to me. However, since this is not, despite my very strong belief an episode of The Truman Show, there is no script, director or producer here. It's all on me. What do I do instead? Concentrate on other people's lives, solve their problems. I've come to realise that I have a magnificent capacity of living in denial, only I like to call it my fantasy land. I prefer to pretend to be easygoing and chill (taking each day as it comes BRO).
I look around (stalk on Facebook), talk to my peers and it seems that some people have really found the answers. Or are really good at selling happy lives (still better than those who whine 24/7 about travelling SO MUCH to Europe for work, God I feel so much for you, you overindulged hack). Or maybe it's just me. Even so, I try my hardest to reserve judgements to myself (or to my closest who signed up for this and cannot back off because this is freandship) and accept people for who they are (or in the case of most kids from Delhi, who they're not). In any event, I am happy to limp along (as yours truly in an effort to become healthy, fell on the way to a jog. If that's not God telling me to relax, I don't know what is. And no, I can't work out at all because you see I fell on one knee and twisted the other ankle. Boohoo. I'll just have some chocolate and painkillers to numb the pain).
My mellow approach has some benefits too. I've realised I'm more Bruce Wayne (super sauve, devilish, handsome in a tux, irresponsible, rich without working) than Batman (working for the good of Gotham, intelligently dangerous, supremely athletic and great with gadgets). The only way I'm like Batman is that I never get the girl (read boy in my case).
If you ever feel these feels, we can get together and not feel them while feeling them together. I know I am in a London Bubble right now and it'll burst soon but hopefully by then, I'll be prepared to crack that safe open myself and find some answers. In conclusion, I feel somewhat better in sharing my lackadaisical approach to life. - waiting for a train, a train to take me away, to I don't know where but somewhere I want to go because we would be together.
I knew seeing Inception last night was a bad idea. LEO you resilient virus.
Oh and to my parents, if you're reading this - it's all a joke. I have it all mapped out but it's more Frodo's journey to Mordor that took three movies than just flying in on eagles in the first place.
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