Husk from Pluto.

I have trouble writing in here because somehow every thing seems too personal to be written about the way I do. I can write pages; chronicling the banality of my day to day life, but that does not suffice anymore. It does not. The words that do come out are too loud, light..diffused. I've been spending a lot of time on my own. It's just me and dad. Almost every night, I leave my phone behind to go outside for a walk until the mosquitoes (or in some cases, a dragonfly) drive me away. I've seen this sky a million times. The silver moon, red bricks, green tea, and my blue heart. Every thing's the same. My words are lost. They have no where to go. I abandon conversations mid-sentence. Why do people prefer forced enthusiasm over genuine silence? Beats me. When i was little, I used to make it a point to greet my dad every evening when he reached home from work. I would wait and watch him park the car and gather his things. Phone, newspaper, naan, or school supplies that we reminded him to bring on his way back. He would hand these things to me. And i would take them inside. That was all. But well, I grew up, dad grew old, and our respective worlds changed us in ways unforeseen. Yet, despite everything, there are times when I feel i'm still that little girl, waiting to greet her dad every time he comes home. When he does, I go out the gate and i beam at him as he opens the car door. I hug him before he is allowed to enter the house. Then I help him unload the car, his shoes, his shirts in hangers, the grey travel bag. I do it every time.. Maybe we are not the same people we once were. But there is comfort in knowing that some things never change. And that love and warmth is..instinct, hardwired. Isn't it? I am usually in the process of falling asleep at this hour, listening to an audiobook of  the Neuropsychology of Self discipline. It puts me to sleep. I have a feeling that i sound a little bit as if my soul is trapped in a damp dungeon where my thoughts have gone stale and words gone grey. But that is not so. My soul is alight. So much so that it may give birth to a new solar system. So no cause for worry. All is well. Goodnight.

C'est la vie

Today was an emotionally exhausting day. The kind where your head hurts from crying too much but it is your heart that feels the fatigue. But. Thing about me is I feel tons better after a good cry. So I asked s2 to accompany me to grocery shopping. So we went out and treated ourselves to cheese sticks and dessert. There's comfort in shopping for basic necessities like a perfect box of cereal, new washroom slippers, fancy smelling shower stationery. I even got some walnuts and almonds for my bedside. I spent ten minutes in front of a giant pack of Bugles. Did not buy it. Did not buy any adipose inducing food. As of now I feel pretty healthy sipping on my Decaf Chinese herbal tea with lemon. satisfied sigh Head still hurts though.

 Until a few years ago, I used to (very naively, I might add) believe that any and every conflict can be solved through proper dialogue. Say the right things, set the right tone, pick the right time, right intentions right words, right everything and you can reach anybody. You can make them understand, constructive thoughts and ideas will be exchanged, a common ground will be reached and peace will prevail. BOY WAS I WRONG. I have now failed at enough conversations to learn that WAIT. Some times people just don't want to listen to your shit. It is not even about you. It's about them and a large number of variables that are not yours to tweak. You can't reach them. They won't let you. No matter how hard or long you try. And even though you might want to claw the skin off your face. (Out of frustration I mean) You have to know when to let go. Shed your words. Your carefully manicured phrases. Zip up your pocket full of tact. And walk away in grace.

 I abhor bad literature. Poem, prose, letters. Anything. Words that reek of desperation. Brimming with cliches. Save me.

 Today is a bright new day. I slept well. 12 full Hours sans the headache that always follows. Dreamed about having two babies. A girl and a boy. The girl, when I kissed her cheek, there was coffee on her face and on my lips. What does that mean? Is coffee my baby? Hmmm. I woke up and stretched in bed for an hour. Had a good breakfast and watched two episodes of my new guilty pleasure, Gossip girl. I know, I know. Un-raise your eyebrows. The room is cold and quiet. Yellow light and red sheets. Floral bed cover and cute pjs. Next to me is the book I’m currently reading and my grey journal that carries fragments of my unruly thoughts strung together with lightweight words that make everything sound rather glib. (It’s a curse I have to live with). So I am in a world of comfort you can say. Almost Pinterest worthy. One would think I feel fat with content right now. In a way I do. In a way I don’t.

October is here again. The beginning of winter. I have things to look forward to. I've come home for a bit. It's not as bad as i was dreading it would be. But i'm not too great at dealing with the feels i get every time i'm back in this house. A sense of loss? Nostalgia? Love? Groundedness? Loneliness? All of the above, most likely. I'll be staying here for a week, and then its a short trip to north with V, who is crossing oceans soon so we can make new memories. I'm looking forward to it. Rooftop talks and coffee and loud conversation. Re unions and surprises. I'm sure it's going to be wonderful.
I'm currently drained of social energy. Ah, i have too much on my mind right now.

I am never, hardly ever at rest. Somebody tone down my heart please? Thanks.