I wake up some days and spend too long thinking I have to write, quite like being entangled by this web of thought and finding it hard to untangle. It is a burdensome feeling. Funny I don't feel the same about my work, it involves tons of writing, perhaps it speaks about my sad attitude to work. Anything that involves work gets pushed to the periphery. I want to write nonsense, you know just inane stuff. I want to explore the freedom to feel anything in words. Unleashing the silly in me!

I think a heavy weekend does that to me. Quite often I end up having heavy weekends in Melbourne.  By heavy I mean starting with a heavy meal on Fridays, going for a long walk and feeling just so exhausted. This is followed by a Saturday morning two-hour long yoga session at Fairfield where our teacher Vivienne and her meticulous asanas impact every bone joints and muscles in the body. After yoga, coming home to a bunch of friends who are at my place for a weekend sleepover leading to over drinking and over eating; struggling to watch the movie, falling half asleep on the couch and then going to bed with a crook neck. Come Sunday and more activities --attend a few festivals in the city and then dining with 12 friends or more in a restaurant of choice! How busier can one get. 

Monday I wake up depressed. So much to do, so much to read, so little time BUT so little motivation! That is the depressing part. I am thinking whether a strong cup of coffee will help me.

I wonder if life is passing by me at breakneck speed and I am missing out on quietness and solitude and some ‘me time’ in the process. I love a lazy Sunday afternoon when I am lying down with a good book, pouring rains, an occasional look at the windows when the rains and green trees come into view. A pessimist’s recipe for life hahaha! There is nostalgia, there is beauty, and there is sadness and happiness in those moments. These emotions give me the fodder to write. Quite a paradox looking for emotions that are both happy and sad in a life that has actually no reasons to complain. I think I am arriving at the truth of life that a state of constant happiness is so emphereal that one is bound to be trapped in complexities of emotions no matter how ideal life seems.

I like to be lost in a web of thoughts and dreams. My dreams cover the width and length of my imaginations. My mind does not rest, it seems. It is funny how I can just fall asleep and think about what I would like to dream. Some days, the dreams override my thoughts. I am sure Sigmund Freud would have loved to meet me. But in many ways I feel I have not outlived my teens in my mind – wonder why people underestimate teenagers. I am still the same inside me – fascinated by books, thoughts, people, dreams, dresses, food, movies. The list goes on.

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