How lazy can someone be? For the past few days I was continuously thinking of writing, but at the end of the day, won't find time. Don't ever think that unemployed people can't be busy. If you belong to a mad house like I do, you'd always have plenty of work to do. First it is entirely a tech non savvy house - where nobody cares for modern day banking. That precisely being the thing that earns me my bread (mind you - the interest that I earn today due to my FDs are because of that money itself) - I had to take a huge lot of trouble to transform the banking scenario of this house. And you know, in the rare occasions when I find in a certain bank and Fine Akkel screen, I feel this sudden pang, even if it is a lower version with which I hardly ever had anything to do, I feel this motherly affection towards a long lost or perhaps unborn child. It tells me, that even if in the worst case my career remains all of these 10 odd years, I'd always be proud, happy and contended about my work.
Then comes my driving classes. And Pupu Ray and all her love for a car apart - I simply don't drive well. Over that, I finally realize, that however much partial I am to the city of Calcutta, it is indeed more polluted than Bangalore. My immunity system simply couldn't fight the pollution here, and as a result I got an enormous attack of asthma last week. Had to stay up all night battling for breath, as the inhaler completely stopped acting. In the morning, went for nebulization to the hospital emergency ward, and they additionally and unnecessarily connected me to the ECG monitor. Quite a sight I looked. But the only good thing that came out of it all was that the doctor advised complete bed rest and I got 3 days off from my driving classes (good times always get over, so I have to venture out again tomorrow). Meanwhile I was getting dead frustrated with this lack of job situation. How long can an educated, healthy, unmarried female stay idle at home only with story books and newspapers to read, and computer games to play, tell me :P ?? Well, as it turns out, some days always are better than the others. In other words, some stretch of time always represent a crest, after considerable expanse of time that has been symbolic of the trough zone. So things moved a bit, some friends contacted on their own accord (my big fat ego won't allow me to contact them on my own), some mails were sent out, some applications done, some money spent for job services, some telephone calls. But mind you, still not even a hint of an interview. So, effectively nothing. And I remain as restless as ever with the BIG question, what exactly do I plan to do with the rest of my life?
In between, this new situation has come up and I feel even worse at its advent. More than worse, I feel strange. I know life and I don't trust it a bit. At the same time...it is like, my birthday is coming up, what is the harm in having 4 days of dreaming? Dreaming that things might not be that bad after all, and every cloud has a silver lining and blah and blah? Call me a coward, call me an escapist, I feel like not letting the dream go, at least for the next 4 days. And then, afterwards, again I will become my former self - which again, I have become quite accustomed to being. Till then, let me be this perfect egg, so obviously hard from the outside (until you crack it for the first time, would you ever know that it can be cracked so easily?) - revolting and fuming and so so tough, and so soft and bright and warm with hope inside, as the yolk. Poor poor Pupu Ray, such a long long life lies ahead of you...
Why do I like writing so much? And when do I write my novel, my masterpiece?
Then comes my driving classes. And Pupu Ray and all her love for a car apart - I simply don't drive well. Over that, I finally realize, that however much partial I am to the city of Calcutta, it is indeed more polluted than Bangalore. My immunity system simply couldn't fight the pollution here, and as a result I got an enormous attack of asthma last week. Had to stay up all night battling for breath, as the inhaler completely stopped acting. In the morning, went for nebulization to the hospital emergency ward, and they additionally and unnecessarily connected me to the ECG monitor. Quite a sight I looked. But the only good thing that came out of it all was that the doctor advised complete bed rest and I got 3 days off from my driving classes (good times always get over, so I have to venture out again tomorrow). Meanwhile I was getting dead frustrated with this lack of job situation. How long can an educated, healthy, unmarried female stay idle at home only with story books and newspapers to read, and computer games to play, tell me :P ?? Well, as it turns out, some days always are better than the others. In other words, some stretch of time always represent a crest, after considerable expanse of time that has been symbolic of the trough zone. So things moved a bit, some friends contacted on their own accord (my big fat ego won't allow me to contact them on my own), some mails were sent out, some applications done, some money spent for job services, some telephone calls. But mind you, still not even a hint of an interview. So, effectively nothing. And I remain as restless as ever with the BIG question, what exactly do I plan to do with the rest of my life?
In between, this new situation has come up and I feel even worse at its advent. More than worse, I feel strange. I know life and I don't trust it a bit. At the same time...it is like, my birthday is coming up, what is the harm in having 4 days of dreaming? Dreaming that things might not be that bad after all, and every cloud has a silver lining and blah and blah? Call me a coward, call me an escapist, I feel like not letting the dream go, at least for the next 4 days. And then, afterwards, again I will become my former self - which again, I have become quite accustomed to being. Till then, let me be this perfect egg, so obviously hard from the outside (until you crack it for the first time, would you ever know that it can be cracked so easily?) - revolting and fuming and so so tough, and so soft and bright and warm with hope inside, as the yolk. Poor poor Pupu Ray, such a long long life lies ahead of you...
Why do I like writing so much? And when do I write my novel, my masterpiece?
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