In Search of Lost Time
For more months than I can care to count now, life’s been a series of hard, unrewarding toils, trials and tribulations. An extended spate of failed endeavours, half measures, backstabbing, exhaustion, the occasional exhilaration, jugaad, meetings, rage, hopelessness, helplessness and what all.
Recently there’s been this obsession with the idea of all these efforts culminating into one giant release at Waves, which, apart from being the most kick-ass thing we could hope to organise in less than half the time an annual cultural festival should be done in, shall also be a confluence of bedraggled coordinators finally letting it ALL out, enjoying to their wits’ end, staying perhaps buzzed, drunk, stoned or just energetic at the festival where they helped bring about so much. Whatever had happened in the months previous, let it slide; these three days will be the stuff to tell your children when they enter college, if not their children in turn.
Until a couple of days ago, my plans were the same; get baked, stay baked, watch the events, observe the crowd, enjoy the food, sleep blissfully for 2 hours each night, and end it with one LONG sigh, and moist eyes (to taste).
Certain thoughts of a contemplative nature over the past few days though have made me edit my blissful plan to something much more practical and realisable. The current plan is as follows:
Wake up, take a bath, sit in room, stay in room, venture out for occasional snack.
And here are the reasons for it:
So why am I still working for all this? I don’t know. Maybe because it’s become a habit by now. Maybe because to drop out now would be just like treachery. And maybe because somewhere deep down, I like doing something that doesn’t let me watch TV series and movies on my laptop at night. Whatever the deal, I shall see it through, so until then, Adios!
Recently there’s been this obsession with the idea of all these efforts culminating into one giant release at Waves, which, apart from being the most kick-ass thing we could hope to organise in less than half the time an annual cultural festival should be done in, shall also be a confluence of bedraggled coordinators finally letting it ALL out, enjoying to their wits’ end, staying perhaps buzzed, drunk, stoned or just energetic at the festival where they helped bring about so much. Whatever had happened in the months previous, let it slide; these three days will be the stuff to tell your children when they enter college, if not their children in turn.
Until a couple of days ago, my plans were the same; get baked, stay baked, watch the events, observe the crowd, enjoy the food, sleep blissfully for 2 hours each night, and end it with one LONG sigh, and moist eyes (to taste).
Certain thoughts of a contemplative nature over the past few days though have made me edit my blissful plan to something much more practical and realisable. The current plan is as follows:
Wake up, take a bath, sit in room, stay in room, venture out for occasional snack.
And here are the reasons for it:
- The whole plan sounds a bit too much like Bing’s comic strip about the 11:30 rule in campus going away. The DoTA server may start an hour late, but beer rain, superchix, and world peace in one night (or for that matter, three) are a little too much to ask.
- I’ve often stated (and if I haven’t, it’s only because the only time this can be said is a bad time to say it) that it’s the gap between expectations and reality that hurts more upon observation than the reality itself. Better not to hope for stuff than to set high hopes and dash them like a beer bottle against a rock on the beach.
- How will all this help in the end anyway? Getting baked and listening to good music doesn’t make you happy; it either just blunts the edge of pain or enhances the happiness already there. It won’t at all help me fix one of the worst personal crises I’ve had in my life, and which I haven’t had much time for over these months. It’ll just delay it by another 3 days, after which I’ll have to deal with it.
- The fall thing again; all this enjoyment, if realised, shall end with the BIGGEST case of Post-Waves Blues ever; and that won’t really help with point 3 above.
So why am I still working for all this? I don’t know. Maybe because it’s become a habit by now. Maybe because to drop out now would be just like treachery. And maybe because somewhere deep down, I like doing something that doesn’t let me watch TV series and movies on my laptop at night. Whatever the deal, I shall see it through, so until then, Adios!
Comments
but seriously, i say go with plan A.
By the way look at the design I've made myself London escort