Martyr-like

Dated – May, 2011

So I have dished up this awful awful dinner of boiled sprouts for myself. I am all by myself tonight and wondering why did I put myself through this, instead of ordering a juicy tandoori chicken leg! Bongs don’t go on a diet..even pseudo bongs don’t. Am just in a martyr sort of a mood right now. I had all of four lines written in this post explaining the lack of posts over the past few months. But hell, this is my space. I ain’t explaining anything to anyone!

Your problems are wholly and solely your own. In your head, you probably have magnified it by a scale of 10-100 (depending on your self pity quotient) and it seems like the end of the world. This is how it is supposed to be. Irrespective of global warming and tsunamis, what we really fret over is our own skewed lives. And skewed they are. In ways, big and small. Yes, Osama died and I am glad one less from the death brigade. But you know human nature. Self centered as we all are. All I am thinking about is why my right hand won’t go back to the way it was..straight and pain free. No, this isn’t about my hand. Just that, we don’t look beyond our own mess. Maybe its not as bad as we think it is.

As I munch on my bowlful of awfulness (read my dinner), am thinking let’s cure this. People change. Altruism is still there somewhere. So big deal if things are not going right. Maybe today is not your day. Or this month ain’t your month. On a completely unrelated note, you know what time of the day is the worst for keeping promises to yourself. Early morning! Sleep can help you give a logical reason for not doing everything you promised you would, the next morning.

There’s a little bit of madness in everyone. Some call it impulse. Some call it eccentricity. Some find it when they meet other people. Some induce it in others. However it is, don’t lose it. An overdose of sanity makes life very bland. Did I tell you how much I hate logic? World would’ve been a simpler, happier place without logic. I don’t make sense today. I think its the dinner. That and my skewed hand makes me a grumpy writer. More on a happier note.

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