Is this really me?

Few questions rage on:

Preamble
...1) Bunty SMSed that she was 'down' after reading my blog. That rattled me. Went over the entire crap load now. I'm never objective when it comes to self. So my question was - 'what did I write to have her upset so?' OR 'Dear God in Heaven do I write so much bunkum that it depresses my best friend?' OR 'For an aspiring writer, was my style, (did I have any?), my syntax and my vocabulary so glaringly deficient (never mind the content...)?'

No preamble here
...2) I've managed to thwart PMS for a while this time around. How did I manage to do that? Does this mean that I have something to dread about later?

...3) Is my blog really me? Did I really write all that? How did I manage it? My God! I don't know whether to be apalled, delighted or be apathetic!

...4) There was 'Pleasure is...' Part II that I refrained from publishing. Why?

...5) I'm reading 'Nine Stories' by J D Salinger. So far I haven't figured out the point in any of the 4 stories I've read. Am I missing something or is this really me? Obtuse? Dense? Dumb? Stubborn?

...6) I'm tired. Very tired. Exhausted would be really far far more appropriate...say it slowly...exhaling breath slowly when you say it...ex-haaau-sted! I really am. State of mind, body and soul? Does this need an answer?

...7) He looks amazing in black and white. Just looking at him made me feel like a 16 year old in the first flush of her first crush...brought to mind a little trivia. Would I ever have the pleasure of buying for a man? On the one occasion I did, the man and the 'buys' disappeared beyond the blue yonder. Is this how it's always supposed to be?

...8) Anomalies. Discrepancies. My blog is full of the same. I say I need to 'let go' but if I do, then I let go of me. And then I say I need to feel 'detached'. I've also categorically stated that I wouldn't let him know. But I did. And I'm living with the consequences of the answers. Sorry, existing. I let life pass me by aeons ago. So is this really me?

...9) Where am I headed? Will I ever be able to have 'The Invitation' or 'The Dance' read out to me? Maybe...but by whom is the moot question? (why am I repetitive? why do I feel an urge to quit and run, run like mad...run like I was chased by the Devil himself. Run and never look back. Run and feel the adrenaline, cheeks flushed, heart doing a rat a tat at a crazy pace, eyes searing through the greedy road ahead. Run, R, run...there's nothing behind, and there's nothing ahead. Strangely, there's a voice in the head saying, 'hey you, you there! you're the one who's been running for a while now isn't it? In fact wait a minute, haven't you been running all your bloody life?' and the harsh laughter rents the air and the heart of the runner...me...R...and I keep running). Is this what I really feel?

...10) I don't know if this is really me...is it? The brash, loudmouth, with gnarled feet and hands, thick thighs and grey wispy hair, leathery skin and battered face, feeling the breeze of pain ruffling her soul, fanning the tears on her blemished cheeks, and a heart vigorously wanting to shake off the old faded drapes of drudgery, wanting to embrace life as it is...beautiful, full, warm, pregnant with love and meaning... is this really me?

Life is an illusion. Or am I imagining it?

Pleasure is...

Pleasure is... turning on the radio and listening to your favorite tune wafting through.

Pleasure is... not being able to identify the number on your cell and being surprised at hearing a dear friend's endearing voice at the other end. From across the world.

Pleasure is... driving where all the lights are green at every junction.

Pleasure is... being the comforting shoulder to a friend. At any time.

Pleasure is... receiving an email from someone unexpected and then going to dinner with the same person...:) (just like that...)

Pleasure is... gifting people and seeing the unexpected surprise and pleasure (hopefully) light up their hearts.

Pleasure is... receiving a mobile bill less than 1k (yeah! I love that).

Pleasure is... having friends who care enough to get Bounty from their sojourns abroad. And Romance...oh Romance!

Pleasure is... having the man you crave for calling you unexpectedly and the happy chit chatting about matters inconsequential. (Oh D, I wish you'd do that more often).

Pleasure is... suddenly getting a call from a potential employer with a mouth watering offer.

Pleasure is... ticking off everything on your 'to-do' list.

Pleasure is... making an impudent or a stubborn child smile endearingly at you, telling you that you're special.

Pleasure is... paying off nagging loans.

Pleasure is... singing your favorite songs in your car, unmindful of the scornful (?), funny (what's with her?), mocking, indifferent stares. Yes!!

Pleasure is... reading a comment left on your blog by a stranger which waxes eloquent about the blog. (Well, not quite, but flattering all the same, and it's not this blog that I'm talking about).

Pleasure is... finding an unexpected book in the higgledy piggledy book stack and at an unbelievable price.

Pleasure is... thinking of so many such little things that make your life so much more livable and pleasurable.

Pleasure is... all those things that one dreams of and suddenly you find the dream in flesh and blood. Euphoric!

Pleasure is... being loved. For who you are. What you are. The way you are. Just pure, unadulterated, 'love you as you are' love. (Sigh! sigh! sigh!)

Pleasure is... loving (so what if it is unrequited?)

Pleasure is... focusing on life's pleasures ...:)

Pleasure is... pleasurable.

(Why is it that pleasure gives me so much pain?)

Need to be!

de·tached :exhibiting an aloof objectivity usually free from prejudice or self-interest.

Unattached. Without attachment?

I need to be detached. About everything? Well, about certain things or people that affect me for sure. Hmm...but then, let me think. I am affected by...mmmm....mmmm...er...mmm...er......
Conclusion! I am affected by everything. I'm heading for a breakdown.

I need to learn. I need to be unaffected. I need to be joyous. I need to be sane. I need to take a chance on life. Again.

I need to live. But I think, first, I need to understand. To be detached.

Please don't punish me so. Help me learn to let go. I need to take a chance on life. Again.

I need to be.

Boom!Bang! CRASH!

Two women. Two worlds. Dying. Cause? Two men. Effect? Emptiness.Darkness.Nothingness.

Crash!
The weekend's not been particularly good. I want to write every little detail of the past 48 hrs or so. If I did, it'd turn out to be a novelette.

First woman:
What do you do when your sane, routine, mundane, regular world is hit by a quake of such magnitude that all you can do is gape at the yawning chasm where once was your world?
Sit up all night reliving. The promises. The shared dreams. The memories, of good times and bad. The life that once was. The life that you were aspiring to live, everyday. The life that you knew you deserved. The life that you wanted, waiting to happen, just around the corner. Then it's snuffed out. The dreams? Crash! The promises? Crash! The hopes? Crash!There is nothing where once there was life. Crash! All because of one man.

My most beautiful, my most cherished, my dearest friend. I love you. Period. (Words sometimes fail to express what silence can accomplish. I'm here.)

Boom!Bang!
I called her. She called me. We didn't speak when we really needed to. We missed each other's calls. Each didn't know how the other's world was collapsing.

Second woman:
So you finally take courage in your hands. Thrust apprehensions aside. Shove fear down the crevice from whence it constantly raises its ugly head. And you step over the threshold. Knowing fully well the repercussions of such a move would result in nothing. But emotion is a formidable ally (?). It can coax and cajole you into reprehensible or fearless or wonderful actions. I have always been an emotional person. I let them guide me this time too. Result? I've spent the weekend blinded by my own tears. Boom and bang! All because of one man.

Jaane woh kaise log the jinke pyaar ko pyaar mila...humne toh bas kaliyaan maangi, kaanton ka haar mila.

Two women. Two worlds. Dying. Cause? Two men. Effect? Emptiness.Darkness.Nothingness.

He sleeps. While I cry.

To the most beloved person in the whole wide universe!

Happy Birthday!

To a woman of great strength. (Fortitude)

To a woman of great character. (Integrity and honesty)

To a woman with an unparalleled joie de vivre. (Zest, zeal, laughter)

To a woman who is an inspiration. (Enthusiasm, commitment)

To my inspiration. My joy. My strength.

To my raison d'etre. My conscience.

To my best friend.

To the most beloved person in the whole wide universe.

Without you...(choked...)

Happy birthday mom!

Romance!

Simply divine!

Thank you Aditi. The best kid sister anyone could have. (And not just for the perfume you got me, mind you).