Of cowardly mice and mad cats :D

How does one remake one’s life to get out of a godawful funk? Well, that’s easy, you just… err…

Okay, so here it is. There is no, forget easy or hard, ‘way’ to remake/reboot one’s difficult situation. You can try and think for a short delusional time that you’re putting on a brave enough front of the world and more importantly in front of friends who know you as well as they do their yesterday’s sun dried underwear, hoping to fool them into thinking that you’re suceeding, but the fact of the matter is, the only thing you can ever really do is pick yourself up, dust yourself down, delete some annoying people from your Facebook friends list who cannot resist sending you stupid game invites, and feel like you have taken charge of your life and, move on. To move on, when you’re older and maybe wiser, means A) Not acting out. It’s hard but you got to do it. You inwardly curse and bitch and plot bloody murder but you just cannot act out. Outwardly there’s this beatific smile that belies the vile pit of red hot anger you deal with until one day it simmers down to a cold forgotten pile of ashes, much like the person who inspired it. Thought-to-spoken word filter process is at an all time optimum and an implacable aura of quiet surrounds you like a black thundercloud before an Assamese monsoon. You see it. You know it ought to bode well but actually means an evil spate of torrential downpour where sommboddy gonna get a hurt real bad. Then comes B) Eating cake. Or whatever you can buy with the Sodexo meal coupons you’re foisted with every month cause there’s no way else you can rid yourself of them. You’d buy groceries but you are really not in a mood to cook/create edible items meant for sustenance. You’d rather watch things burn and daaaiiiii. And then to the happy sighs of roommates and friends, the final, natural progression for me is: C) You blog about it. Simple!

So, anyway, coming back to the point of this piece : new beginnings and slightly less morbid things than that ranty bit above, I have sought change by attempting to socialize more, which in my case amounts to socialising. Period. And also, more recently, maybe too recently and hence too early to proclaim to the world at large, but I’ll do it anyway cause I’m dumb like that (which may have caused all this to begin with), indulging in a craze that has up until now always evaded my dithering interest (and increasing bulges): joining the gym. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I have after all been all of once. Whether I manage to drag myself out of bed at 6.30 am tomorrow to make it for the second time is something yet to be determined. But I am optimistic. And that’s what counts, really. Optimism and the courage to follow through and take a goddamn chance…. Okay here we go again. The rant is beginning to break through.

Go scampering back into your comfort zone. I banish you, my spell of bad luck.

To my gym trainer, good luck.

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