Back is Me.

Dear Blog(-diary-friend-ish),

Well, Hello. I've been a little hesitant to write of late. Not quite sure why.

Meanwhile. Its been a tough few weeks. Some choices that evaded me at first. And then some choices laid before me. Some difficult decisions I've had to make, and some other decisions that I've had to deal with. Sigh .. At times I wish this was an anonymous blog. Believe me, I'd have a lot more to say then! Come to think of it, maybe I will start one now that I have thought of it. But then I have also thought of the fact that I am becoming more and more cynical by the day, so, yeah, Tough Luck there, potential-anonymous-blog!

And in other news..
I joined (new) work on the 26th of this month. Closer, bigger. Better? Don't know yet. Haven't really gotten into it. I'll miss old workplace and all its niceness. And all my friends. Sniff. And all the people I didn't get along with. Them too.

I went on a Scrubs-watching marathon recently. Two seasons. There's something addictive about the series. You just can't stop watching it. And in between switching episodes comes for a while a surreal feeling. You almost believe you can dole out snappy, witty lines - nay, whole paragraphs - and - as if that weren't enough - even snappy, witty comebacks that are material enough for an entire play. Of course, I say this in retrospect, because when I'm under the spell of Scrubs - I am in a daze - I almost wish I could address people like that - 'Hey Barbie' and 'Hey (girl-name)' - guys, ie. Too bad if you haven't seen it. See it. :)

I finally finished Sense and Sensibility. Frankly, while I'm in love with Jane Austen's language, I found this book a tad strange. Ah, but you get lost in the words. Now I'm reading (or attempting to read) only about 4 books in parallel. One of which is another Jane Austen, but with more promise, Emma.

In today's news..
When I voiced concern over an autorickshaw's incredibly paced meter, he had this to say:
"Chalte chalte theek ho jaayega"
In effect, as it keeps running, it self-corrects. Some kind of feedback system unfairly biased to the people who have to go the farthest distance.
And then about 60 seconds later, where he might have otherwise stopped if he wanted to stop, his wire cut ho gaya and he stops. This is not the first time an autorickshaw driver has pulled the wire-cut on me, but sadly, there's nothing I can do about it. I got off, refused to pay him more than what I thought should be the fare. Thankfully, he caved sooner than would have fallen my act of a determined and courageous stand (to not pay more). And then no other auto took me either.

Saw the new Indiana Jones movie today. Masala, timepass, far-fetched, funny, fun.

That would be it for now, blog.
Just to let you know I'm alive. Still around.

Love.
Moi.

Enlightenment #4: Rach can't say Goodbye

Varry Hard, I tell you.
Either I find it hard to actually say the bubbyes or I can't let go.

Saying goodbye is odd. I stay stone-faced, afraid to let the emotion show. Which is odd as it is. You'd think courtesy calls for a little emotion on the face. I'm sad that you're going away. No, really. Of course I feel something. Not exactly tragedy befallen, but I get it! So I become uncomfortable, and then begin asking meaningless questions like 'how are you going to manage there' and 'spoke to the others'? And I forget the important stuff like contact information. Which i'd debate the importance of, considering I don't really make the effort to keep in touch. My keeping in touch with old friends on chat is limited to

they: Hey what's going on?
me: Nothing much. What about you?
they: {replace text with relevant story}. How's work and all?
me: Good, going on.
they: Anything interesting happening lately? How're the others {names of Common Friends here}?
me: Haven't spoken to them much lately. but yeah, guess everyone's doing fine.
{more uninformative answers here from yours truly}

(bleah.) See how interesting a chatter I can be??
And thus i try ending the goodbye process as soon as possible. Keep in touch, Take care.

And then there are the tragedy befallen goodbyes. Here I just refuse to let go. No no no. Sigh. Opposite ends of the spectrum. Clinging on to old memories Rach. What is it about old times that makes them always seem so good? At what point do all the painful memories get wiped out from the thing we call nostalgia?
Howzabout I say ok, this was good till now, now I have a chance to hit Refresh, and jump to the next stage without obsessing over the previous. A chance to do something different.

We live, we learn.