From bookish to boorish...

After much thought and speculation, I and Arpita came to a very depressing realization. Facebook had ruined our life. 

Well not Facebook entirely, spending too much time on the internet in general might have resulted in the 'degrading quality of our live'. I mean seriously. If I think back to the time when I was in class 9 or 10 when I had no internet access, my life used to be GOOD. I used to go outside, play, have fun at school, attend the one tuition I had and have fun doing Math, fight with my brother over pens and books, have healthy discussions about various stuff with Arpita, Sushmita and yes, read books till I almost got blinded.

I dont even want to think about the time when I was even younger; I used to devour books back then. 5-6 books on my library card, 5-6 on my brother's and finish them off in a week or two at most. I am ignoring that time because you could say I used to read thrillers and mystery novels which do get over fast.

But even in class 11^th and 12^th when I barely had time to breathe with school and tuitions, the thing I used to do when I got little time was catch up with a novel I was reading or blog or write something. NOT rush and check who has liked and commented some photo I had shared.

The more I think about this, the more wretched I feel. It feels like after I have joined college, I have thrown away all the interests and good stuff of my life and enveloped myself in a cocoon of bullshit. I shudder to think how I wasted the first sem and how my current life is going the same way as well.

A change of air did put some sense into me. A fortnight trip to Vishakapatnam did unhinge my rusted and dead brain cells and the serene, beautiful beach air did blow some life back but past few months (one month to be specific) had my good intentions gone with the wind again. I actually took a resolution that I would write my thoughts and views about every single book I read from then and I even employed a beautiful new diary for the task.

But that hardly lasted for a month.

But I did read. My college library has a pretty well stacked fiction section and I made it a habit of issuing new authors and had a quality time out of it. But recent times have taken even that away from me and I have no one but myself to blame.

I won’t lie, I won’t write something pretentious and try to deceive myself but that one incident in college DID rattle me up bad. I am a person who over thinks stuff, there is simply no denying that fact. But it did help in some good ways too I will admit because the saner part of my brain finally got a word to put in :P

Being misunderstood by a bunch of people I don’t even know was bad but what’s even more terrible is this realization of how hard I have been trying to pretend being someone I am nowhere close to.

I CANT socialize with guys. Even if they are guys reading in the same class as me. Thanks to a very helpful ‘friend’ who had me under her pretentious cloak of ‘friendship’ for whole 4 years at school, my self esteem was thrown to the rocks time and again and no matter what anyone says, I haven’t quite been able to overcome that.

So I don’t understand why I even attempt doing that. This socializing part I mean. And not just with guys, I mean it in general. It doesn’t help that every conversation seems so FAKE. So bloody superficial. And I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but it does. I hate myself for forcing small talk despite being bored to the point of dozing off.

And this whole thing about being on my guard with people as a result of that ______ is simply BULLSHIT. I CANT be on my guard with people I like talking to. So I hate pretending that I can. I hate it when I remind myself that “Oh no. This isn’t something this person should know. Shut up Kirti, seal your lips”. 

I hate it when one of my friends whom I confide in would slip up in public and I would glare making her shut up in a highly mysterious demeanor known only to the two of us the whole wide world. I hate it because it’s me pretending to have the secret of Hitler’s assassination up my sleeve when it is nothing but a regular thing like me crazing over some guy. I hate it because it’s me pretending to be someone I am not. I never cared in my life who knows what ‘going on’ with me, I don’t understand why it bothers me so much now.

I know I am ranting again, but I need to let this steam off; this self frustration was pent up since such a long time. I know I even diverted from the topic I started with (like I ALWAYS do :P) but the moot point remains the same- I wasn’t like this before and this fear of having changed in unacceptable ways is freaking the hell out of me.

I was ruffling through the pages of my old notebook again and I nearly teared up as I read the stories I wrote back then. It was like reading a completely alien thing altogether; I couldn’t believe I had written something like that when I was in like, class 11?

Look at what I write now- no poems in ages, not a single good story. Only aimless, purposeless rants (which I love writing though :P) that are only a proof of the unexpressed whirlpool of emotions going in my mind. 

Harper Collins happened when I was in the thick of worthless things and that story came out so forced. It’s so forced that I couldn’t bear reading it a second time. And I feel so GUTTED about it because I LOVE reading my own stories. Not because they are extraordinary or something but because… just knowing the fact that I could think of something so WHOLE and was even able to successfully put in words is such a warm feeling. I mean, I have read that Abhimanyu- Krittika short story a thousand times and still I haven’t tired of it. But this one… :(

I had this one chance of seeing my story in print and I literally threw it away.

And the worst part? I again have no one to blame but myself.

So a bit of retrospection fuelled by the wonder of exercise (I refer to the newly joined swimming classes here :D) made me reach to the conclusion that the quality of my life has degraded and the amount of time spent online and indulging in pointless talks/thoughts was a very good reason behind it.

I mean seriously, I do absolutely NOTHING on Facebook. Its not like before when i used to be addicted with Tetris battle. Its not even like I chat with people and have a go at socializing. I just scroll down the homepage, check meme pages, share them and waste my time in general. And more the time I spend there, the more I get depressed.

And so I decided (with a very determined Arpita) that I would fall back in my old habits. You know, change-positions-on-the-bed-with-a-great-book-and-become-oblivious-to-the-world  habits :D

And I did that last night. And it felt so wonderful, this event of falling back into the sheer familiarity of doing a thing you absolutely LOVE.

And that feeling of déjà vu when your mother shouts and shouts for you to come for dinner but somehow your ears register nothing but a blissful void :D

And the book I picked to read last night. The fault in our stars, John Green. MY GOD. MY FRIGGIN FRICKIN GOD.  I simply don’t have words to express what I felt while reading it or after it ended. It was so…RAW. Every single emotion, every single feeling was so brutally honest; it jangled every cell of my heart.

I could hardly wait for the swimming class to end this morning so that I could go back and finish the damn beautiful thing. 

The trainer nearly drowned me today though. He was standing OUTSIDE and shouting instructions to a poor novice like me who had barely just nailed the leg action to leave hands from the railing and do the leg action thing without a holding support.

So I tried and I nearly frickin DROWNED. My head went under, I gulped in what felt like tons of the chlorine water and somehow, somehow I UPTURNED :P one moment I was all bobbing up and down struggling to get a grip on myself and then WHOOSH! I do a flip in the water, become this oversized, uncoordinated species trying to do something called ‘swimming’ but resulting in nothing but making a fool of itself, grab the fellow novice beside me and thank Dear God for not letting me die before I make further fool of myself :P

And when the fellow novice Didi (she is such a sport!! :) I love her company) asked me  in amazement “Tui ulte geli ki kore!!??” and I was like “I DON’T KNOW!!” :D

Ok, enough of my drowning debacle. So I rushed back home on my pump less cycle :P and shut myself in my room without even having breakfast (IMAGINE THAT!!). I was pretty much near the end already but I was reading slowly, not willing it to finish because I would be drowned in a post-great-book-depression. And then, it got too much out of my control-your-emotions-capacity and the tears poured down my face; the book was so surreal and yet I could feel EVERY.SINGLE.THING. 

I didn’t want to read on for the fear of knowing what was coming next but I my eyes were just hypnotized by the thing and I had to go on else I wouldn’t have been able to breathe/sleep/eat for the next few days.

Phew. It was a while since I felt like this reading a book. Last time was Perks of being a wallflower I think. Reading The fault in our stars, I was reminded of how I felt after reading Hosseini and I took out The Kite Runner and read some parts again, just marveling at how a few people and can reach out and touch your heart. It is my absolute dream to write like that someday.

And so I feel good today; the book was sad, funny, touching and its still on my mind but along with that there is this contentment on my mind as well. The familiarity of doing something you love- like reading a book, or writing is so enchanting.

My days of laziness close down here; I return back to hostel tomorrow :| but I take memories of a good book with me, memories of great walks with me, memories of edible food with me :P and I hope this would be enough to restore my sanity keep me grounded with my rediscovered good intentions :)

Sorry for being such a bore!! :D

Hopeful and feeling alive,

Kirti