Written on Fri, 10-10-08

Yikes, this has to be a quick one so I can sneak in between the sheets before midnight.

I survived ending things with my ex. It was long overdue.

I spent the first hour closing my eyes and praying that what he said wouldn’t affect my head.

I spent the next hour and a half messaging Mr. Flirt while I devoured a tub of ice cream.

In between, I wished my twin was around and not with her boyfriend in another state.

The whole evening was horrifyingly bizarre that I didn't really know what to do with myself afterwards, other than run to Mr. Flirt and talking to him seemed like the best thing to do at the exact moment when my self-esteem was least prepared to deal with the throbbing.

When I met my ex- Mr. Bollywood, the one with the anger management problem- I was lonely and bored and getting into a relationship with him just seemed so much better than sitting in front of the TV all night long. It's a vicious catch-22, and I've caught myself in it many times over the years. It seems as though companionship became more important to me than the way I was treated. Sometimes, I would just convince myself that I was making a big deal out of nothing and give it another go. Hope, or at least delusion, springs eternal. And when I ended things today it seemed like quite a relief to be out of that psyching game.

I need a holiday, frankly, and bizarre as it may seem, this is it. Sorry folks, this is all simply an expression of my own escapism, a fleeing from my life. Instead of lazing on a beach or walking through picturesque valleys I'm twiddling letters on a website. Perverse, no? What kind of vacation is that? Well right now I think change will be as good as rest.

What is it I'm looking for today?
What am I lost without?
Sitting despondent in front of my laptop,
Tossing out this painful rubbish?
Ah, don't worry about it, this mood won't stay for long.
Tomorrow is... oh, you know.

That's it for now, anyway. The road ahead is looking awkward indeed. Three more days in ill-fitting drag; sigh, that's not so many.

Last evening, fellow blogger, Meenakshi Reddy- the compulsive confessor, read from her book ‘You are here’, that I think is attention-grabbing and pretty amusing. It was really nice to meet her at the reading and she looked quite fabulous.

To the man who deserves nothing more than this song. Kate Perry sure did say it well- ‘You’re so gay’…

People ask me why I am attracted to cute, extraordinarily self-involved people who are into the arts be it photography, painting, singing etc. Weirdly I feel some measure of inexplicable desirability towards them. When I get into it, I’m always thinking that this one is different from all the others and he proves it just for a few days. He recharged batteries you thought were dead, boosted your fading morale and massaged your deserted ego. And then your little trip is over when he doesn’t really give a damn to know what you like anymore. He doesn’t want to get your hints and he can’t care less if he’s pushing the right buttons. You think both of you are trying to make this work. Really, it’s just you trying and then it gets a little sticky and you go home, curled up in bed thinking ‘it’s my fault’ and you see, that’s exactly what he wants. The artist, never likes to nudge or hint or take his hand and move it or even blurt out ‘It’s over’. No, they’re difficult for a reason. They’re out there to make you realize that you don’t fit into their made up little complex world, you don’t fit into his ritual and you’re just an interchangeable character in his script. When you’ve been at this game as long as I have, the hope that others maybe different from your ex, is hard to come by. There’s a place for optimism, of course, but please, I’d have to be crazy to live there. So, I’ve decided I’m going to make some changes. I, honestly, do not like older men because I think they’ve had their share of fun and I’d be too childish for them. But I think I’m going to give them a try. I already have one in mind. This is sure to give me some instant content to work with.

I feel like my head is going to split even more than usual because today I consumed no tea and no sugar. I did this because I am so addicted to the book ‘You Are Here’ written by our girl The Compulsive Confessor. I have been sitting bolt upright at work since morning reading the book. If I had a book like that to read everyday I would never be depressed again.
Sometimes blogging can be as much of a curse as it is a blessing. Let me start with the blessing. I usually have lots of time to listen to loads of music. The curse comes into play when I love a band and I have them on repeat for a few months before they’re drowned out by the latest bands everyone simply must listen to. Sometimes old and less famous favorites get lost in this mish mash of new music. Fortunately, for the music world last week my boss introduced me to a band called The Pineapple Thief. I’ve listened to this particular track called ‘Shoot First’ countless times that I sing along to aloud, regardless as to who’s listening. Here is enough that could easily qualify as a good starting point for your Pineapple Thief love affair.