It was three years ago, today..
Doesn't sound as grand as twenty, admittedly. Still, I've been in Bombay since today 2004, and it's just another day. Nothing spectacular lined up, am at office wishing I was outside -- Bowie's looping persisently inside my head as I look at grey, overcast lethargicromantic weather outside the windowpanes. Longwalk, bookshop weather -- and me chained at the desk, waiting for images. *Uber-wistful sigh*
Three years. It is a while, really. Maybe it should feel momentous. Maybe I should feel driven or self-congratulatory or disappointed. Maybe I should shrug. Just did. (Am I the only one who shrugs every time I type the word?)
Went to a blah movie with a friend last night, an old Bombay friend (as opposed to all the rest of the world friends who now live in Bombay) and we were doing candyfloss (the ultimate movie theatre food, by the by) as I mentioned how the time's flown by. She was all nice and indulgent and myyou'vedonesowell-y about it, but I'm not sure.
It has been an unpredictable ride, to be certain.
The job's fun, crazy, keeps me on my toes, oscillating between restlessness, self-loathing, condescension and merriment -- what more can one ask for? I love my shoebox-sized, ridiculously expensive flat. My social life leaves me with perplexingly little time to read. Have started developing wanderlust. Became alarmingly tolerant of people at large. I fell in and (mercifully) out of love, even as a million exes tied their respective knots -- and I danced at their weddings. Occasionally took myself seriously. Rediscovered old friends; deeply dug some new ones. The Spidey happened. Learned to negotiate money. Met absolutely the bizarrest bunch of people. Gave up the alc; restarted bartending. Finally crossed over, bought a gaming console, and am ridiculously hooked. I may be writing a quick book soon (not the eventual novel, this is breezy stuff). A film I wrote ought head into production even sooner.
Didn't see any of it coming. I've stayed afloat, I guess.
Three years. It is a while, really. Maybe it should feel momentous. Maybe I should feel driven or self-congratulatory or disappointed. Maybe I should shrug. Just did. (Am I the only one who shrugs every time I type the word?)
Went to a blah movie with a friend last night, an old Bombay friend (as opposed to all the rest of the world friends who now live in Bombay) and we were doing candyfloss (the ultimate movie theatre food, by the by) as I mentioned how the time's flown by. She was all nice and indulgent and myyou'vedonesowell-y about it, but I'm not sure.
It has been an unpredictable ride, to be certain.
The job's fun, crazy, keeps me on my toes, oscillating between restlessness, self-loathing, condescension and merriment -- what more can one ask for? I love my shoebox-sized, ridiculously expensive flat. My social life leaves me with perplexingly little time to read. Have started developing wanderlust. Became alarmingly tolerant of people at large. I fell in and (mercifully) out of love, even as a million exes tied their respective knots -- and I danced at their weddings. Occasionally took myself seriously. Rediscovered old friends; deeply dug some new ones. The Spidey happened. Learned to negotiate money. Met absolutely the bizarrest bunch of people. Gave up the alc; restarted bartending. Finally crossed over, bought a gaming console, and am ridiculously hooked. I may be writing a quick book soon (not the eventual novel, this is breezy stuff). A film I wrote ought head into production even sooner.
Didn't see any of it coming. I've stayed afloat, I guess.