Sunshine In Seconds

I've become so shallow now, always looking for the quick fix, the easy high. I've no patience any more, at least less than I ever did before. It's remarkably easy to sink into a single dimensional soul: just immerse yourself into your work and forget about anything else that you ever loved.

I don't know why I have such a self-destructive streak, because of which I deliberately deny myself what I enjoy. Why is it so difficult to just loosen up and enjoy life the way it happens? Soak it in... No worries, no contemplating the future or how to work towards a better bank balance.

I'm actually rather disgusted with myself, at the inner whining, even though I am not talking that much about it out loud. At least the 'don't give a flying fuck' attitude ensures that some of the shite stays at bay. Whatever.

Coming back to my shallowness. I've come to the point when I just want 5 minute fixes. Exhausted at the end of the day, I've no time to sit and finish a good book at one go the way I love to devour books. Instead, I choose to read fast reading material: in other words, crap. A bit of YouTube-enabled karaoke when I'm in the mood, but no time to practice the piano and actually hone a talent that must by now be gone. Why, I ask? Exhaustion? Laziness? Depression-induced inertia? I don't think it is the last one. If anything, at least that aspect of my life has been borderline, and on the better side. Been there, battled that, now it's so much better! But the bad habits stay, I suppose. And like everyone else part of the sunshine-in-seconds generation, I want the quick fix, the easy high, even if it kills any depth that I used to have.

Goodnight.

Memories Of Winter

Winter always makes me want to curl up with a short story and watch the sun take its leave for the day. More than five years ago, I spent many a winter afternoon climbing up the water tank on our building terrace and spend a good hour or so in the company of Chekov or Maupassant, watching the day blend into night. Staring at the vastness all around, for ours was one of the highest buildings in the neighborhood, and wondering at the vastness of thought in the pages that I beheld, it was a wonderful way to let the hours flow by.

I wonder sometimes if now, in spite of being freer than I have ever been in many ways, I am more limited in my thoughts and actions than I was not so long a time ago, at a terrace far away... I've never been to the terrace of the building where I now live. And for someone who would explore every inch of a place and figure out how to find her way in a new area, I haven't really explored much of the city where I now live. True, that public transportation is not as good as what it was in my home city, but I probably should have found a way.

Still, enough of that. Winter has always been my favorite time of year. Never mind the runny noses, or the sheer torture that is washing long hair early in the morning. Winter is when life takes a step back from the lively rush of summer, and seeks solace within itself. Winter is for falling in love with the chilly breeze that paints your cheeks pink. Winter is for lovers to seek warmth in each other. Winter is for coming back home, or else yearning most terribly for it.

And home is where the heart is. My heart just needs to find a home that is close by.