Day 50: Apr 17, 2012.
I finished reading the Golden Gate. This goes up on my favorite books of all time. It's viciously funny, full of surprises and one would think that the attempt to rhyme an entire narrative would take away from the candid honesty of it, but it didn't. It was beautiful. Vikram Seth is officially my favorite author now, though to be fair I haven't read any of his works of poetry (other than this), nor libretto, nor if you think about it, his first book, which was a travel book of some kind. Not withstanding, I adore his writing. I cannot wait for the Suitable Girl, a wait that appears to be another long year. <angsty-face emoticon>. I'm gonna get started on either Norweigan Wood, or The Trial sometime today.
If you thought for one second I was going to underplay this, you're dead wrong.
I'm not sure where to start. I discovered only yesterday that contrary to what I've believed all my life, I'm quite the loner. I like the company of people only in small doses and I'm wretchedly picky about the said company. I like to do most things by myself. I prefer shopping alone, swimming alone, dining alone, studying alone, that must be some kind of indicative. What I do like and need aplenty is to have someone to come home to and talk about the things I did and saw. That's where the ex came in. That's also where you guys came in.
This blog, and the readers, (they can't be separated, the blog exists because of the readers) was a sort of substitute, a safety net that I had woven, just to keep me afloat till I could figure out how to go on. Have I figured out how to go on? I think so. I'm scared, so hopelessly scared. You know, though, I can't possibly be living the rest of my life in the shadow of a break up, which the powers that be willing, will mean nothing at all in just a little time.
From what I understand, a few readers enjoyed the hilarity and quasi-voyeurism of it. Thank you, then for allowing me to see the funny side of things. There's another section that derived some sort of strength from it, I'm not sure how or why, and I from them. This is difficult to explain perhaps. But Z, if it gave you the courage to walk out of a crappy relationship, and V, if it made you come clean to your ex-girlfriend, and preserve her dignity by never allowing her to take you back, then I'm overwhelmed. It's not what I set out to do, but if something good came out of it, if some of us, me included, discovered the redemption that lies in our ability to be happy by ourselves, than I could never have asked for more. Thank you.
Elephantic thank you to everyone who's watched my cry, dragged me out when I've wanted to lie under the sheets and mope, allowed themselves to be dragged out because I couldn't be by myself, fretted about my sun tan, introduced me to new people, given me dating tips, given me break up tips, or just read the blog with every mollifying count of the ticker on the top right. I'll spare you the unnecessary reading, if you're here, then thank you folks.
There're two people though, I have to address, even though they won't read my blog anytime soon. One's Sam. I've never spoken about her. Sam is my obscenely candid, chirpy, Australian pal, who asks me the most cruelly probing questions but rarely holds my hand through figuring them out. I could write a book about the things I learned from Sam. Or a blog, perhaps. Who knows. She made me make sense of the muckiest, most strange predicaments, and really encouraged me to live this break-up. I lived it, suppressed nothing, allowed myself to love the ex even when I knew I shouldn't, allowed myself to vent at guiltless others simply because I had no avenue for my anger, allowed myself to send some embarrassingly nasty emails, yell, shriek, hate the world and cry. And then, one day, about a week ago, I walked home singing Titanium real loud on the streets, feeling invincible and whole all over again, and so passionately in love with myself. It was, in the dictionary sense of the word, awesome.
The second person, I have erstwhile referred to as the vile ex, is my Ankur, who accepts losing the things he regards as most precious, far far far too easily. Thank you's are due to him as well, for what are unquestionably the best times of my life, and for leaving me more difficult to disarm and with the ability to appreciate courage over charm (reference to GG, which is not Gossip Girl), but still love, and love forgivingly and unabashedly. There's too much love between us still intact in the back rooms somewhere, I'm not sure what I'll do when the time to address it comes, but I trust myself now to be smart about it.
Snipping the umbilical,
Love, muchly,
SV.
I finished reading the Golden Gate. This goes up on my favorite books of all time. It's viciously funny, full of surprises and one would think that the attempt to rhyme an entire narrative would take away from the candid honesty of it, but it didn't. It was beautiful. Vikram Seth is officially my favorite author now, though to be fair I haven't read any of his works of poetry (other than this), nor libretto, nor if you think about it, his first book, which was a travel book of some kind. Not withstanding, I adore his writing. I cannot wait for the Suitable Girl, a wait that appears to be another long year. <angsty-face emoticon>. I'm gonna get started on either Norweigan Wood, or The Trial sometime today.
If you thought for one second I was going to underplay this, you're dead wrong.
I'm not sure where to start. I discovered only yesterday that contrary to what I've believed all my life, I'm quite the loner. I like the company of people only in small doses and I'm wretchedly picky about the said company. I like to do most things by myself. I prefer shopping alone, swimming alone, dining alone, studying alone, that must be some kind of indicative. What I do like and need aplenty is to have someone to come home to and talk about the things I did and saw. That's where the ex came in. That's also where you guys came in.
This blog, and the readers, (they can't be separated, the blog exists because of the readers) was a sort of substitute, a safety net that I had woven, just to keep me afloat till I could figure out how to go on. Have I figured out how to go on? I think so. I'm scared, so hopelessly scared. You know, though, I can't possibly be living the rest of my life in the shadow of a break up, which the powers that be willing, will mean nothing at all in just a little time.
From what I understand, a few readers enjoyed the hilarity and quasi-voyeurism of it. Thank you, then for allowing me to see the funny side of things. There's another section that derived some sort of strength from it, I'm not sure how or why, and I from them. This is difficult to explain perhaps. But Z, if it gave you the courage to walk out of a crappy relationship, and V, if it made you come clean to your ex-girlfriend, and preserve her dignity by never allowing her to take you back, then I'm overwhelmed. It's not what I set out to do, but if something good came out of it, if some of us, me included, discovered the redemption that lies in our ability to be happy by ourselves, than I could never have asked for more. Thank you.
Elephantic thank you to everyone who's watched my cry, dragged me out when I've wanted to lie under the sheets and mope, allowed themselves to be dragged out because I couldn't be by myself, fretted about my sun tan, introduced me to new people, given me dating tips, given me break up tips, or just read the blog with every mollifying count of the ticker on the top right. I'll spare you the unnecessary reading, if you're here, then thank you folks.
There're two people though, I have to address, even though they won't read my blog anytime soon. One's Sam. I've never spoken about her. Sam is my obscenely candid, chirpy, Australian pal, who asks me the most cruelly probing questions but rarely holds my hand through figuring them out. I could write a book about the things I learned from Sam. Or a blog, perhaps. Who knows. She made me make sense of the muckiest, most strange predicaments, and really encouraged me to live this break-up. I lived it, suppressed nothing, allowed myself to love the ex even when I knew I shouldn't, allowed myself to vent at guiltless others simply because I had no avenue for my anger, allowed myself to send some embarrassingly nasty emails, yell, shriek, hate the world and cry. And then, one day, about a week ago, I walked home singing Titanium real loud on the streets, feeling invincible and whole all over again, and so passionately in love with myself. It was, in the dictionary sense of the word, awesome.
The second person, I have erstwhile referred to as the vile ex, is my Ankur, who accepts losing the things he regards as most precious, far far far too easily. Thank you's are due to him as well, for what are unquestionably the best times of my life, and for leaving me more difficult to disarm and with the ability to appreciate courage over charm (reference to GG, which is not Gossip Girl), but still love, and love forgivingly and unabashedly. There's too much love between us still intact in the back rooms somewhere, I'm not sure what I'll do when the time to address it comes, but I trust myself now to be smart about it.
So this is it. I could go on forever, which is exactly why, perhaps, I need to stop. I'll continue blogging, as I have been for a couple of years, but this domain goes dinosaur starting now. Other than Blogalog, I'm shifting my daily rants to TrashTalk. Look me up on Twitter! I'm trying this new thing where each tweet is a line of verse. Just got started yesterday, tell me what you think.
It's worth the walk, just to see how sometimes,
The surprises stored along the way,
As long as there's design and rhyme,
The surprises stored along the way,
As long as there's design and rhyme,
And love, who cares if it's easy to sway.
Snipping the umbilical,
Love, muchly,
SV.
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