Friday, August 5, 2011

One more month has gone...

... and even still nothing seem to have changed a lot. Everything happens to be the same. The mornings and noons and nights are just as predictable as the unpredictability of the weather around here. Ever same, is the frustrating feeling when sitting in front of the compose pane to write of all the wonderful ideas that hit you while in the shower and wonder where all them have gone.

But whining is not going to help, would it? No. So what... I don't know.

I'm low with the tiredness of a receding fever and Migraine. So all things in charge are in charge of the other-half now. Including the toddler. So before she comes back complaining 'Appa mertita', which could be any minute now if not sooner given the way they get along a full whole minute, I will try to write something here, just as an assurance that 'All izz well'

What do I write about?

Do I want to say about the way I'm starting to feel about the Ms? That she is all of a sister when she expresses if she likes or dislikes my dresses (every time she says 'beetipul' or 'eeee' I melt a little)? That she is all of a mother when she just easily predicts my mood and matter-of-fact suggests 'Amma kochi' (which nearly shames me every time when I take my emotions out on her)? No. She is my anchor and I can't do any justice by telling about her in just a few words.

Do I want to say about the promise I make to myself about a certain thing that I want to try out? Can I own it that I'm weak and lack the needed will power to experiment my ideas instead of postponing to next week Monday? No. That's another secret and literally my life and its associated happiness is tied to it.

Do I want to say about the fact that I worry about things when all I need to do was to let silent for a minute and get on ahead. That by being so, I feel, even though I could not repair the wobbly floors, at least I can try and not make it wobble a lot more? No. I don't think I even understand what I want to do fully.

Do I want to bitch about the fact that I see the 'not-have's' and miss all the little things which shows how much I do have? No. I have said that a lot and I think I'm never going to get over that vice.

Do I want to confess to everyone that I keep this blog as a form of rebellion? That I desperately want to be able to write so that I can, well at least, write if not talk into deaf ears. No. They are unheard anyways.

Then what the hell do I say? I don't know. My head is starting to ache again.

For some reason I miss temples much during such tiredness. Mylapore and Thiruvahindrapuram of my childhood memories. Nothing like a bumpy bus/auto ride when you are tired and there's nothing much that sweet temple air and its music won't do to soothe the soreness of body and mind. Come home to amma for a nice hot milagu rasam and a good night sleep to the tingles of the bedroom wind-chimes. God.

I need a Harry Potter or Twilight equivalent, if you know what I mean.