It's been quite a while being with myself. These are the happy times I could say, unlike the restlessness that I feel when I am with someone or even when I am with a group, desperately trying to fit in, knowing all the while that I never will and that in time, the connections, the warmth and the affections will fade. It would unfair to say that it doesn't bother me. Of course it does but I think I have just about sufficient human connect for now. I am struggling to make peace with the solitude every day. Keep my moods stable and reel in the outbursts that have welling up like a tornado within. There will be madness again soon but I want to relax for the time that I have for me right now.
Funny, being in the present moment is an incessant struggle. For example, I know that is a Saturday night again and I am in a total party mode but all the same I am happy being in my space, listening to tracks that I would like to listen to instead of putting up with a mob's affection for mediocrity and deal with that comes along with it. If that's really so, why I am feeling bitter about it? ;)
Had a nice conversation with a friend late last night w
here I shared my feelings on suddenly realising that I have grown-up. I can't deal with mediocrity and definitely not with stupidity. Being stupid is no excuse for an existence. I feel that those who encourage or even indulge stupidity are the actual criminals that deter the growth of a civilised society. Is it really wrong to expect grown ups to behave as grown ups? Does everybody's childhood fantasies have to be everyone else's problem? But then, that's what the films depict. Movies, the reflection of the society's psyche, still proves that we continue to revel in our immaturity. But I have already wasted so much time and energy thinking about what needs to be changed in society but to what effect? I'd rather make the most of this time to create my own identity, something to remember myself by. I am sure that too will change but how would I look back if I don't put it down in black and white.
I thank myself again for returning to my blog again and again to write whatever is going on in my mind. I have seen so many give up. I am glad I am not one of them. I hope I never will be.
My career in journalism started out with an internship at India's prestigious Indian Express newspaper in New Delhi. The office, which took me well over an hour to commute to, was even then, a formidable force in journalism in India. Still an wide-eyed undergraduate with a theoretical grasp of the field, my first and only project over 2 weeks for the organisation, left a huge impact on my career. The idea of going into journalism came from my English teacher, Mrs Moss. One day, close to the completion of my 12th grade, she was suggesting career options for some of us to explore. She looked at me and said, "Given your love for talking, you should consider a career path in law or in media." To put this into context, I was a student with good grades in an English medium school in one of the most backward states of India, Bihar. Any further educational aspirations would take me outside the town that I had grown up in, as was the case for all my classmates. Most of my peers w...
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