I was all set to write more about it. But I’m not able to.
Sorry, this one is going to be a bit of a downer.
It’s almost as if returning to Pune has drained us all off the excitement and zeal that was quite rampant in our house, two weeks ago. Of course, this would easily pass as a chronic case of holiday blues, but weirdly enough, methinks there’s more to this.
I sit here, procrastinating once again, when I should be reading up on topics for my final semester project. I detest social media for getting me addicted to this screen, as I refresh that damned Facebook page every now and then, keeping my eye on the notification bar. Occasionally, I scroll down my feed, often encountering numerous, pointlessly profound quotes on love and sex, or Narendra Modi memes, or posts on dogs ridden with cancer, or worse, status updates that are akin to NDTV’s banal updates about the sickening scenario against women in our country.
I am disgusted at how negative I sound. Surely, there’s more to life than scrolling down one’s Facebook feed.
I’m scrounging for notifications because I am eager to get more response on my first ever travel documentary that I uploaded two days ago. No points for guessing this one; it is based on Bhutan.
I get a feeling that I made this film only to garner appreciation and praises, and not to get feedback. I can say this with conviction because the other day when Mum tried to suggest some tips on improving my video, I got mad at her. Lately, I have been getting irritated with her for no good reason and I know I’m going to regret it, sooner or later.
The comments have been more than satisfactory, but there is this particularly genuine and sweet comment that keeps playing in my mind, yet bothers me. My close friend considers me as an inspiration, because according to her I’m multi-talented. I write, sing, play the guitar, click pictures and now, film videos. Her words make me feel warm from within. It makes me realise the extent of under-estimation and self-scrutiny I put myself through, all the time, everyday.
It makes me realize that undergoing complete personality transformation is a load of crock, honestly speaking. Deep down, I’m still that kid who occasionally suffers from performance anxiety, and mild self-esteem issues. How can I change that? The only probable answer to it is acceptance, and just moving on, really.
I’m also, extremely afraid of envy being directed towards me. More that once, I’ve sensed myself showing-off way too much and that maybe I’m going overboard with my creative side.
Some days, when I wake up, I tell myself that I’m going to delete my redundant social media accounts and start afresh. I was actually contemplating on starting a new blog on WordPress, deleting the so-called photoblog on Tumblr/Flickr/, and creating a fresh account on Instagram, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t have the guts to deactivate my Facebook account either. It’s like some stupid yet ironic lifeline. It has become my ritual to feign determination and tell myself that I’ll chalk out some sort of a career plan, but it all goes in vain. Why, just yesterday I felt happy with the course my life has taken, but today I’m back to feeling purposeless. And no, it’s not PMS.
For now, I guess I’m so steeped in negativity that I probably need to get my eyes off this screen, and indulge in something that makes me happy. It has almost become a reflex to pick up my phone and click photos of the food I cook, the pictures I paint, and the stuff I write on paper. It’s like I’m living my life for a virtual world with virtual friends; yep the ones I would awkwardly encounter in a mall or something. Ugh, what the hell.
Anyway, here’s a pointless end to a pointless post. Gotta go inform my friend that I wrote a new post today.