My Escapist Life
I was stuck in the elevator (literally) for the last one hour. No, it was not like one of those M&Bs or some of those lame-ass thriller/horror movies. I thought I should be scared, it mas making weird noises and there was no power, but I was not. I was laughing. I couldn't stop laughing. The only two other people stuck were looking at me thinking that I have lost it but it was like I sniffed something before getting in.
I think I have become very good at denying reality. I can pick and choose the things that I want to think about or talk about; compartmentalizing is the answer to all questions. I am trying to re-imagine things as dreams: the kind you wake up from, shake off, disregard; not the kind you journal, analyze, relay relentlessly to bored friends. I remember stuff as the way I remember characters from books that I haven’t read in a while; fondly but vaguely and all smudged, round the edges.
I have my hobbies to get my mind off things. I have bought books by large reams (Ohh you should have seen me in the train on my way from Vashi with more than 10 books in my bag holding it like it was my precious. Second hand book store! be still my heart). I use my credit card like its nobody else’s business. I have ordered random books one late night after a long dinner which involved two bottles of wine and some gimlets. I keep getting books delivered to my desk its actually disconcerting when you dont know which book you have actually ordered and when.
I drag my huge ass camera and go to sea face trying to take portraits of kids running around with those huge smiles plastered on their face. It reminds me of those days when I was a five-year-old on a beach somewhere collecting shells and digging moats, the days where life was simpler where the most I had to think was my evil plan of getting a rupee from my mom to buy an ice cream on the beach. I build another reality around me, like the land of faeries in True Blood (if you dint get the reference, it’s okay you guys are the 99% :D).
Then I have my series where I am so invested in them that I want to talk in monologues about them almost all the time. I became the evangelist marketer for Newsroom, forced K to watch all three episodes (which she did like). GoT was over and I dint even realize it. I was waiting for the 11th episode for the last two weeks, hoping against hope that this time they will have more! I keep listening to podcasts and when these guys talk about the totally obscure movie that I know about, I feel ecstatic thinking that there is this one other person whom I can relate to.
But sometimes, just sometimes there are these stray thoughts about what I am actually doing with my life creep in. But as soon as they do I am literally and figuratively running in the other direction clutching to my dear life. I like my life without its meaningful existence, being the ultimate consumer, conforming to a societal norm of the young and disillusioned. It’s as good as playing a role in those MMORPGs.
I guess you can call me an escapist. You can ask how someone can so callously and categorically kill time and live a vapid existence. All I can hear is the commotion in a noisy bar because I am almost a mile ahead of you running for my life.
I think I have become very good at denying reality. I can pick and choose the things that I want to think about or talk about; compartmentalizing is the answer to all questions. I am trying to re-imagine things as dreams: the kind you wake up from, shake off, disregard; not the kind you journal, analyze, relay relentlessly to bored friends. I remember stuff as the way I remember characters from books that I haven’t read in a while; fondly but vaguely and all smudged, round the edges.
I have my hobbies to get my mind off things. I have bought books by large reams (Ohh you should have seen me in the train on my way from Vashi with more than 10 books in my bag holding it like it was my precious. Second hand book store! be still my heart). I use my credit card like its nobody else’s business. I have ordered random books one late night after a long dinner which involved two bottles of wine and some gimlets. I keep getting books delivered to my desk its actually disconcerting when you dont know which book you have actually ordered and when.
I drag my huge ass camera and go to sea face trying to take portraits of kids running around with those huge smiles plastered on their face. It reminds me of those days when I was a five-year-old on a beach somewhere collecting shells and digging moats, the days where life was simpler where the most I had to think was my evil plan of getting a rupee from my mom to buy an ice cream on the beach. I build another reality around me, like the land of faeries in True Blood (if you dint get the reference, it’s okay you guys are the 99% :D).
Then I have my series where I am so invested in them that I want to talk in monologues about them almost all the time. I became the evangelist marketer for Newsroom, forced K to watch all three episodes (which she did like). GoT was over and I dint even realize it. I was waiting for the 11th episode for the last two weeks, hoping against hope that this time they will have more! I keep listening to podcasts and when these guys talk about the totally obscure movie that I know about, I feel ecstatic thinking that there is this one other person whom I can relate to.
But sometimes, just sometimes there are these stray thoughts about what I am actually doing with my life creep in. But as soon as they do I am literally and figuratively running in the other direction clutching to my dear life. I like my life without its meaningful existence, being the ultimate consumer, conforming to a societal norm of the young and disillusioned. It’s as good as playing a role in those MMORPGs.
I guess you can call me an escapist. You can ask how someone can so callously and categorically kill time and live a vapid existence. All I can hear is the commotion in a noisy bar because I am almost a mile ahead of you running for my life.
Comments