If you don’t take your meat, you can’t have any pudding.. How can you have any pudding if you don’t take your meat?
I start writing this as the famous Floyd number fades away, transitioning into the next song. Floyd’s been playing for an hour in my ears, and I’m trying to make sense of all that they wrote four decades ago. Sitting in a car parked next to a beautiful park, where I spent forty minutes walking, sweating away my boredom and trying to shed a few calories, I’m here waiting for my fiancee to finish her exam. It’ll be a whole two more hours for her to be done with it. I recollect how parents of many bright minds waited, prayed outside the examination halls of the many that I gave. Never did anyone wait for me to get out of the place, to ask how it went.
Now I’ve got the feeling once again, I can’t explain, you’ll not understand, this is not how I am, I’ve become comfortably numb
Exactly a year ago, my fiancee had mentioned her feelings for me and I had indicated my acceptance as well as my feelings towards her. Sitting in a pub, I gave a sermon on how I see myself as a free being, not bound by the rules of the societies and families, not the kind of person who’d give in to prioritizing the family or the partner over self. Past experiences had made me numb to all these things.
Yet, here I am, doing just what I thought I wouldn’t ever do. Is it a positive transformation or am I becoming mainstream? Have I toned my stance down, or has the way I look at the world changed?
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall
No I don’t like being one. There’s a lot more to life than the chores, the duties, but in a world where everything I loved has become mainstream and too common, how do I differentiate myself from others? How do I retain my uniqueness and not succumb?
I’ve almost given up on photography, because I see every T, D & H with a camera in his hand. I’m not into music anymore as I only see personal interests of co-artists taking precedence over a group’s collective success. Ain’t that what happened to Floyd, when Waters effectively controlled every aspect of the band?
I used to blog, I had my small group of loyal readers, but there’s hardly any time left for that. I used to read books, there’s hardly any time for that too. A couple of months ago, my friends and I got into an argument and they pointed out how reading books isn’t something I love all that much and that’s why I haven’t prioritized it over the other things. That’s something I used to preach to the others, but does it hold good in my own case?
If I’ve prioritized anything at all in my life over the last year, it’s spending time with my family and my fiancee. With the humans that I have to spend the rest of my life with. Next came the plants, although it’s been over a year since my garden saw any useful produce. Next came work, man’s gotta earn, after all.
Priorities always change, they have to, but we ought to make time for our own selves. I had always envisioned myself writing more, and writing more often, on my new tablet that has a detachable keyboard. I bought the tablet and the keyboard thinking I’ll go around with my fiancee, sit in cafes and belt out a post every time I’m out with her, while she’d sketch the scenes around her. Not a single sketch saw any light of day, never did I write a post until now.
Just yesterday, a friend and I were discussing how breakfree I used to be and how he was all caught up with things always, and how the tables have turned. “Only I can pull myself out of this, it won’t happen by itself” is what I said. Will I be able to do that? Will I be able to connect with my audience and explore the aspects of me that are now buried deep down
There’s a lot to write about, there has just been no time and enough energy to do it. Not enough motivation.
It’s like deja vu, exactly a year ago I was ranting about relationships, winter, my old man getting old and his old man showing signs of degeneration. It’s winter again, and I’m ranting about relationships and what not.
My old man’s old man celebrated his 100th birthday and gave up on life a week later, after suffering from a deadly fever and pneumonia, a first and only time for him. He lived like a Lion, didn’t go like one, sad. 9 others in the family were infected too. Viral arthritis, the doctors said after the damage was done. That was in September, and I’m still feeling the residual pain in my knuckles as I type this.
Work has bogged me down too, I’ve not succumbed to it, but have certainly been more worried about it than ever. Money was never a priority in the past, but things have changed now. I need to earn, to save for a future, for a home, for a retirement, for the kids who aren’t even conceived yet. Everything that didn’t believe in has now become the reality of my life.
While I’ve never been happier on a personal front, this is not what I am, not what I stand for, not how I envision myself to be. It’s almost as if my inner self, the breakfree being, the rebel is lost somewhere. I look inside and I only see a dark room, him trapped somewhere in there or may be he’s not even there. May be he’s gone, lost, aimlessly roaming somewhere, trying to make some sense out of all these changes around him. I need to talk to him, bring him back.
Hey You! Out there in the cold, getting lonely, getting cold, can you feel me?
Standing in the aisles with itchy feet and fading smiles, can you feel me?
Don’t help them to bury the light……..
Won’t give in without a fight.