Frozen and gone

My hard disk crashed. Without a warning. Without pointing a finger at anyone, who could have potentially been responsible for its death.

Was it me? Was it that bitch of a maid who sneakily pockets money, assuming it goes unnoticed, who must have knocked my precious disk in a hurry? Was it my father? I don’t know. I will never know.

Because it’s dead. I’ll probably need to shell out over 25 grands to resuscitate it, and catch all those frozen memories it holds. Those precious memories of three years. A lump comes to my throat every time I force myself to list out its contents. Dear God. It’s difficult. It was indeed carelessness on my part to have not maintained another copy, but then what is the point of a 1 TB drive, if it has to give up on me randomly? I detest you. I hate you for doing that to me, because now I’ll have to prise open  my head and dig out those scenes that I had frozen digitally. And I’m not sure if I can possibly do that. Or maybe I can, I underestimate myself too often.

As I type this, I can’t help but notice how eccentric I am. I cry over dead hard disks and not people.

December is here. And it’s begun on a terrible note.

 

Anger Management

I‘m amazed at myself for coming up with this post.

Getting angry is never the solution to anything. That’s what they say. I would like to believe that to a certain extent. Getting angry increases your blood pressure, fills you with an ugly, nasty burning sensation, and also stimulates all that pent up emotion to leak out in the form of angry tears. Why put yourself through such discomfort?

“Hothead!”
“What a grouch!”
“Chill!”
“Stop getting so worked up!”
“Whoa! That’s some temper.”
“You are always pissed at someone or the other. Haha.”

I get this all the time. From friends. From family. Recently, a friend remarked that I have the silent rage syndrome. Wow, intriguing.

Screw you.

Anger was my loyal friend when I went through this dark phase last year. It didn’t make things easier. But, somehow feeling angry towards those who had hurt me seemed to give me some temporary strength. It was a concoction of bitterness, anger, complaints, dissatisfaction and sadness. It caused my heart to burn no doubt, yet there was a short-lived solace. It helped me get through each day.

It gives others a chance to provoke me further, and poke fun at me. I have learnt to become immune to it. I have developed a thick skin against all those digs at my temperament.

I can’t cry easily. I get angry easily.

That’s how I am. Learn to deal with it.

The aftermath of anger is nasty. Most of the times I get engulfed by this deep cloud of regret for having overreacted to something or to someone. And at such times I wish my temper didn’t make me so vulnerable to an onslaught of other painful emotions that were uncalled for.

So here I am, giving a shot at anger management.

When the world turns bitchy.

 My first exposure to pure unadulterated bitchiness.

Where, you may ask.

College, of course. The source of new friends, who seemed genial and amiable initially. Scenes changed in a matter of two months and out poured, many dirty little secrets.

Time for some hot gossip. She is a geek surrounded by books, trying to please the teachers with her good grades. She doesn’t have time for fun. She doesn’t have a boyfriend. She hyper ventilates. She doesn’t cheat during exams. She is such a know-it-all. She thinks she is funny. She doesn’t get Marathi! ehl oh ehl. Guitar bajati hai, usme kya badi baat hai?

And then they dig deeper.

Her sense of dressing. OOF! Sucks. The glasses worsen it. Hahaha.

She is always smiling. Does she think she can befriend the whole class? What an idiot.

Wanna invite her to the party? Obviously NOT, dude.

So much contempt. A truckload of mindless nastiness bellowing out of some individuals who CLEARLY have a big insecurity complex, who, seriously, need to get a life of their OWN.

I think of SMJC, and I feel a lump in my throat. I miss everything. I miss my best buddies.

Malice. Cattiness which makes me want to puke.