Saturday, October 22, 2011

For the desired effect, could you come back August or June.

One of my many bad habits (including but not limited to cuticle-harassment, chain smoking, regularly contributing to the Alexander Wang cause, eating potatoes for meals and blaming alcohol for bad judgment calls) is the constant search for validation of my feelings by watching CW shows (see: Gossip Girl, Vampire Diaries). If a particular plot line on one of these shows even remotely resembles a plot line in my own reality TV series, I pounce on it with all the passion of a 16 year old watching Love, Actually. I can often be found sitting in my room, yelling at the TV, willing Damon to kiss Elena and just god for fuck's sake get it over with. Obviously, wine is involved.

In one of the recent episodes of Gossip Girl, which by the way is nowhere near the stellar standards it set in its first two seasons of cattiness and guilty pleasures, Chuck Bass (formerly light of my days, love of my life) decided that he can no longer feel anything, including physical pain or hangovers, because things are definitely. over. between him and Blair Waldorf (whose wardrobe I emulated for about four seasons). I sighed and sympathized with Chuck, now determined that that had what had happened to me. I had finally become what I always wanted to be, cold and unfeeling. Numb to any external stimulus. Just going about my life, buying more clothes, drinking more vodka and deriving pleasure from fiction. Chuck and I were in this together, and we would live happily ever after. Or until they cancelled the show, realizing that all the characters had slept with each other and there was nothing else to do.

Imagine my delirious pleasure when, in the latest episode of Vampire Diaries, Stefan and Elena - the most insipid of couples, boring in their devotion to each other no-matter-what, were finally falling apart because Elena saw Stefan for what he really was - a really ugly dude. Just kidding. She actually saw that his true nature was that of someone who wanted to prey on her and kill her. She quickly found solace in bad-boy-gone-good, Stefan's brother Damon who I've been rooting for since his days as a Dolce and Gabbanna model. But not before she watched Stefan 'turn-off' the human side of him. The side of him that actually loved her, cared for her and wanted to protect her. She watched his face as he jerkily switched his brain off to affection and was horrified (belated response) when he strolled casually towards her before attacking her. I mean, how fucking convenient. If only humans were capable of turning off that switch and protecting themselves from ever getting hurt. Poor Chuck had to drink himself into oblivion before emerging numb and all Stefan had to do was turn this stupid switch off. I was extremely excited for what lay ahead, I really really wanted Stefan to finally be happy with himself and do whatever the fuck he pleased while Elena found someone else to protect her and take care of her. That's true love.

So where does that leave me? Do I think I'm the bad boy? Do I think I deserve what I got and that now that I am somewhat impervious to emotions and guilt, I should go about my life just making myself happy, screwing over anyone who didn't accept me for who I truly was? I don't know, ya'll. I'm quite pleased with my ability to shut out pain and rejection and feelings of low self-esteem but is it healthy? Will it all come crashing down in the next episode, as is likely seeing that these shows I take emotional guidance from are just one bitch-slap away from being soap operas? Will there be a voice-over at the end of the season, talking about doing the right thing no matter what it costs you? Who knows. Until next week. xoxo.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

'Head Clutch' is the desi version of 'Face Palm'

You took the weather with you. In what was clearly an attempt to draw a bit of romance (the bad type) and pain (the good type) from the already desperate situation, the world decided to greet my loneliness with gray skies and pointless rain. Every morning is colder than the one before, every evening, the walk home is longer. How then, am I supposed to stay calm, drive carefully? How then, am I not supposed to dwell on all things miserable while smoking incessantly when I know, I know it makes my sadness so much more than just a state of mine - it gives me personality. At least I can hide behind that familiar wall, go back to the person I was long before we met, the little girl with her big words and increasingly self-destructive spirals. ("I will drink the hell out of this vodka-tonic!")

I sometimes wonder if I fooled myself into stability. How did I manage to make sense of all those things, put them in little IKEA organizers and pile 'em high (watch 'em fly). I also wonder how much of my current mess, a return to old-familiar-form, is of my making. Did I just miss the tension, and this is a test run to see if I'm any better at handling it? Or maybe this is life - cyclical in it's spreading of bullshit and hopelessness comma helplessness. If so, then hello! It's been a while. Help yourself to the Medoc. I'll be outside, being all dramatic and shit. I'm sure you're used to that.

But you, I forgot this was meant to be about you. Wait, let's leave that to another time. Can we, for one minute, just focus on me? Sorry, does that sound too shrill? I'm kidding. You are the reason, or maybe not the main reason, but the catalyst that has led to this faithless departure from normalcy (where is a synonym when you need one?). But I don't think that could have led to this, to be honest. Maybe it wasn't a departure from contentment but actually a panicked run-for-your-life move towards self-preservation. And why should anyone apologize anymore for being shamelessly self-indulgent. Pragmatic is for day jobs and therapists' offices. As for me, I'm just happy (Gosh yaa, I just want to be happy) to smoke furtively and watch gray disappear into gray.