Something of Myself
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Yet another soddy attempt...
I don't manage to log-in much these days. Life's pretty much about home and office (well more of office and less of home)! I have probably lost my readers too. :(
I was going through my earlier posts today and was wondering how I have managed to lose touch with a side of me that used to crave for anything remotely associated to "literature". Life's taken such a drastic turn. I have come to understood what upside-down means. I have been introduced to the "real world." Something which I never wanted to face. At least not before thirty.
Earlier, I used to think about whether I will go back to UK or not. Whether I will again get back to doing my PhD or not. These days...well, I don't even get the time! The desire is still there. Dormant. Un-active.
Life's lost its meanings. And it's not just because I have lost my father. It's because of a whole lot of things that have spun off from his loss. The tertiary reasons so as to say.
I miss England. The crap weather. My unkept room. The pubs. The library. The pressure to perform well. To excel.
Yes, that is the one which I miss most. The drive to excel. I have somehow lost it. Don't even feel like excelling. It's more of a cog-in-the-wheel. I regret it. Never thought I would ever regret ANYTHING. Always thought life was too short for that. And now?
I want to get back to the world of Morrison, Kureishi, Dickens, Blake, Ellison, Tennyson...
The fictional world. Me. Words. Us. And them.
I don't manage to log-in much these days. Life's pretty much about home and office (well more of office and less of home)! I have probably lost my readers too. :(
I was going through my earlier posts today and was wondering how I have managed to lose touch with a side of me that used to crave for anything remotely associated to "literature". Life's taken such a drastic turn. I have come to understood what upside-down means. I have been introduced to the "real world." Something which I never wanted to face. At least not before thirty.
Earlier, I used to think about whether I will go back to UK or not. Whether I will again get back to doing my PhD or not. These days...well, I don't even get the time! The desire is still there. Dormant. Un-active.
Life's lost its meanings. And it's not just because I have lost my father. It's because of a whole lot of things that have spun off from his loss. The tertiary reasons so as to say.
I miss England. The crap weather. My unkept room. The pubs. The library. The pressure to perform well. To excel.
Yes, that is the one which I miss most. The drive to excel. I have somehow lost it. Don't even feel like excelling. It's more of a cog-in-the-wheel. I regret it. Never thought I would ever regret ANYTHING. Always thought life was too short for that. And now?
I want to get back to the world of Morrison, Kureishi, Dickens, Blake, Ellison, Tennyson...
The fictional world. Me. Words. Us. And them.
