On food and mood

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I went out today, alone. Had a delectable plate of mutton chops and some really good raspberry/cranberry drink. It was an isolated place called “Group Therapy” in Secunderabad, India. I had my copy of “To Kill A Mockingbird” with me and a bunch of tangled thoughts that gradually came free and together to appear comprehensive. The people there were so nice. It was a lady, with short red hair. She reminded me of a friend I once knew, a long time ago.

That’s when it hit me. I was so uncomfortable while talking to her. She did everything right, said the right words and smiled the right way but my stomach wouldn’t stop clenching. The introvert in me remains strong. I’ve always been by myself and now it doesn’t help me make any conversation. When I do, I always have a nagging feeling that I am being awkward or ridiculous.

Like food, my will to converse depends on my mood. Lamb chops may be the special for today and tomorrow, I’d find them absolutely distasteful. I’m just beginning to learn that people are not meant to be boring one day and appealing the next. I’ve made a resolution to talk to strangers more and I think I’ll try talking to people with different opinions and mindsets. Anyway, how long can I stay shy and secluded?

On a completely different note, I enjoy eating alone to the point where I might cancel plans with a group of friends to spend time with myself. This is not the introvert in me, shying away but just one enjoying one’s own company.

I want to analyse and give a detailed review of To Kill a Mockingbird and I shall do it once I finish it. I haven’t read that book up until now, can you believe it?!?

On everyday blues

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I have a friend, let’s call her A. A and I have been friends for over five years now and there has never been anything to hinder our friendship. When she moved away, I admit I did feel a little out of place, the only person who ever empathized with me was gone but we always kept in touch through letters, e-mails etc.

Letters. They have been our solemn means of communication. In A’s own words “we had created a private little world” and it is thanks to these handwritten letters that we never had a chance to say goodbye to each other though we lived miles apart. We were connected by some sort of a weird telepathic wire.

I’m thankful to A for always sticking by me even when I proved the most difficult person to deal with.

Coming to the point, everyday I catch a small cold of sadness.. it’s a pounding in my head that won’t go away. Sometimes this cold lasts for a long time and it’s during these times that I find myself incapacitated. My motivation takes a vacation and I find myself lacking in any enthusiasm. These everyday blues are difficult to let go, easy to hang on to. They parent mysterious thoughts and sometimes I find myself saying things like “The ground under my feet is a whale.”

I’m trying to let go of these thoughts and replace them with good memories. Memories of A and me, whispering to each other, coming up with silly ideas for stories and separating ourselves from the rest of the world that we find so incomprehensible. Memories of Dad and me, driving on the early morning roads carpeted with dew drops from close knitted tress, bed-time stories and his face, smiling down on me as if I could never do anything wrong.

A has become an integral part of my world. She’s a weapon I use to fight my blues with and I hope I am hers. I’ve always wanted a sibling and I guess I have found one in A.