Feels a Little bit like Stupidity

I have been absolutely insufferable lately. I have been mean, grumpy, angry, frustrated and hopelessly depressed. Yes, I admit I haven’t been good company. In fact, I have been absolutely intolerable. The worst part about being this way is to absolutely know how incredibly unfair you are to yourself and those around you, but yet be completely incapable of changing the way you think and feel. It’s a really frustrating, hopeless, lonely rut to be stuck in. I could easily blame my lack of amicability upon my hormones; yes to a certain degree they do hugely contribute to my volatile, tumultuous state of mind, but that would only partially be the truth. I have been generally cross with the world recently and most of it has been no ones fault but my own, I most certainly can’t blame it on my period. Sure I cannot control the way people act and behave, but it is certainly in my power to control the way I feel and react to things and it maddening to sometimes contemplate that this is the least I have control over.

My general frumpiness isn’t all a concoction of my overactive imagination. I have been genuinely sad and troubled; the worst part is my complete incapacity to discuss it with anyone, not even close friends and family. I perhaps unfairly and wrongly think that they don’t care enough or are simply incapable of understanding what I am going through. Yes, I know this might be unreasonable on my part, but I simply can’t stop feeling this way. I know the whole I am so alone, no one really gets me and the world is such a shitty place to live in bullshit is a little cliché and that I should have left my teenage angst behind a long time ago, exactly six years to be precise when I stopped being a teenager, but what the hell, I can label this my mid-life crisis and call it a day!

My dad passed away precisely six years and five days ago. I thought that things would get better with time, all wounds nicely healed and scabbed, but I guess in many ways it was some solid wishful thinking on my part. Some things never really become a distant, less painfully memory, even after all the time that has gone by. I would be lying and exaggerating if I said that my life came to a screeching a halt, a painful standstill and any other metaphors I can think off after my dad died. But with him I feel like I lost a little bit of myself too, that little something that I haven’t quiet managed to find yet. I wish I really knew what it was, things would be a lot easier if I did, all I feel time and again is this over whelming sense of loss, which no matter what I do never really seems to go away. Just when I think I am alright, I feel this crushing urge to just see him and be with him one more time, just so that I can ask him if I turned out alright. I know it’s a little sick to need this kind of validation, but when you are as confused and lost as I feel I am it’s comforting to know that you are on the right track, especially when nothing makes any sense at all. It is unbelievably painful to miss and want someone so terribly and know that they are really truly gone forever.

The gloom and doom of my father’s death anniversary and the subsequent onslaught of nostalgic recollection had made me less than friendly in the last couple of weeks. I use ‘had’ because I think I am slowly getting out of my funk, but in the process I have very successfully managed to alienate the people I care the most about. A lot of my friends have stopped calling me, just because I have been so damn difficult to deal with. Worst of all, I feel like I am growing further and further apart from my closest friend and this has been the hardest to deal with.

He was the one person I always looked forward to seeing, one I felt I could always count on, someone who got me, well at least a little. Now he is one I have successfully managed to push the furthest away. I know it’s no ones fault but my own, but it would be really, truly nice and comforting if just once he would pick up the phone and ask me if I was alright. Maybe with a little patience and perseverance cajole the truth out of me. We never spend time together anymore, not as a group, we do plenty of that, I’m talking about just him and me. Now every chance he gets he runs away, acting like my presence and company is the source of great annoyance, I really hate and resent that, only because I miss him so damn much. I know I am not fun and chirpy all the time, but to be abandoned by your closest friend at what seems like the most vulnerable time in your life, feels a little bit like betrayal.

A bunch of us were hanging out late last night and as usual the conversation took a serious turn. ‘T’ told me that I should really stop being so damn moral, judgmental and idealistic all the time. Apparently someone wise once said that ‘A high moral ground is a very lonely place.’ I forgot who it was. Yeah I guess I do agree, but I am also obstinate enough to think that what precious, few morals that I do have in possession are the guiding principals of my life and if I didn’t have them, I would be left with almost nothing. If it’s a choice between being alone and letting go of my ideals then I stubbornly choose to stick with my morality. Well at least for now anyway, when I feel like I am strong enough live with the consequences of my decision. They advised me time and again that I need to cut myself a slack and give the world a break. Don’t they think that I already know this? I mean pragmatically and logical it all makes absolute perfect sense, but making something that seems so simple into an actual living, breathing reality is a whole different ball game. Sweeping, life changes don’t really happen over night.

I am probably the stupidest human being on the planet. I am stupid because I realize that I am doing idiotic things and yet continue to do them because all I have is my idiocy.

On days like this....I wish I was an accountant

If at this very moment I could really kill someone and not have to deal with the repercussion of my violent actions, I certainly would. All moral qualms and reservations that I possess against inflicting mind boggling pain to another human being just got tossed out of the window about a minute and a half ago.
There are generally two kinds of people that ultimately affect the destiny of all humanity, the good and bad bosses. In all my years of indentured servitude that almost always border on slavery these two categories of the human race have severely affected my existence in more ways than one.
I work for a horrid, horrid man. He is inconsiderate, judgmental and all assuming. The mighty messiah of this wretched organization knows it all even though he might know absolutely nothing at all. To be honest I haven’t been miss perfect either, I have made my fair share of mistakes to say the least, but I am no fool, when I know I’ve done something wrong, I always make it a point to note it down and never repeat it twice if I can.
You meet all kinds of people in life; S was quiet and stern and talked only when it was absolutely needed. She walked around the office in her no-nonsense style and conducted meetings with great efficiency and diligence. I loved S, she was the model boss; she is among the few people that inspired me to put in my utmost effort in whatever I did and do it with sincerity. I do aspire to be like her someday. One of the saddest things about leaving New York and Oxford was that I would never get to work with S again. People don’t really change jobs they change bosses.
My winning streak at work ended about six months ago. Here I am in Bombay finally doing the work that I love for a wretched, wretched man that absolutely hates everything I do. I have entirely forgotten what it is like to be appreciated and acknowledged for my efforts. It has all simply come down to counting how many times I don’t fuck up and get yelled at each day. I’m almost convinced each day, precisely by mid-afternoon that I’m completely useless, a sad waste of breathing space and matter, I kick my self in the shin by three pm and try to convince myself otherwise.
Calling someone horrid and disparaging is rather hypocritical on part; I have been guilty of that time and again. But to let ones pre-conceived notions affect every opinion that they form about another human being is so totally unfair!
You know, there is no way of pleasing certain people. This other S falls in that bloody annoying category. I know with great certainty that I am not always right, shit I am the queen of mess-ups, but I know for a fact that I am not always wrong! How can I possibly remotely please someone that thinks I’m a tad bit weird and maybe a little insane?
Am I really all these things? Yeah sure in a way, but really now who isn’t? Our eccentricities are what make us tick as individuals. Sure I have been lost in my own little sad, personal, convoluted universe for the past two months, but ever since I was made to realize the errors of my ways, well at least in the work place, I have been careful enough to stay focused, alert and on the top of my game.
How does one go about fighting the impressions of the past? As the only creatures in existence to be concerned with the consequences of our past deeds, I am in a terrible place. I wish I could just go back, rewind time and convenience S that I’m not crazy, weird or insane. I have a million things to do each day, things that require my utmost attention, things that might slip through the cracks and cause everyone a lot of grief. I make my notes and I re-read them time and again. But alas, I’m no mind-reader, when things do go wrong, which in my life they invariably do, I can’t magically guess it.
If I was blessed with that kind of divinity and intuition I would definitely not choose to be at this place in my life, really who would? So really, when I do ask about a certain thing, it is not my heartfelt intention to nag, pester or annoy, it is merely to remain informed. Will somebody just please tell him that. If and when I do get fired lack of communication will most definitely not be an issue this time around!
When my legacy is discussed long after I have gone, it shall be said time and again that her long, hard walk to disaster was paved with the most excellent of intentions. Everything I do or say turns to shit, when I am hanging between two worlds after my inevitable end I shall ask, no beg St. Peter or whoever it is that is in charge of reincarnation to please make me the slimy moss that grows on the rock at the bottom of the ocean. I can’t stand to be born human, not again. If the gift of humanity entails being unceremoniously tossed time and again, they I’m far better off living a stationary existence.
PS: I'll try to write about happy things next time.