Been watching Gregory House MD, a series about an insanely gifted doctor who wants to be as miserable as life can make him, yet never runs short of a seemingly unending stream of sarcasm bordering on hurling insults at everyone and anyone who gets too close to him, both physically and not (at least till half of the second season, which is where i am right now, after a humungous marathon house-watching session was interrupted rudely by a much needed dose of sleep, followed by a not at all rude session of going and seeing what waves is all about this year, when im not associated with it at all, which makes me miss the running around-tackling unforseen problems which invariably creep up on you from behind whenever ur managing or organising or that sort of thing, while knowing that any screw up would directly affect the event or program or some such thing or person(s) or etc-etc-this-sentence-is-too-long-anyways-n-im-running-short-of-breath-phew! )
Well, the point is, the break from the house marathon got me out of my room, during a time when im not supposed to be in my room because a cultural festival with which i have been directly associated during its formative years is going on in my backyard (so to speak).
Well, i have been thinking for a long time as to what reason i have for completely divorcing my blog for such a long time, that would stand trial in any court (of my mind), and i have arrived at the conclusion after briefly being reminded during the waves-exploring session about the fact that my blog is miserable and lonely and iv got to make it up to her (i like to think its feminine), that i have nothing in my defense that would stand the test of trial, except that the net speed is crappy negated by the incriminating fact that im too damn lazy to go type in my username password in blogspot.com and just type a damn post.
Ok, back to house.
Oh my god its exactly what i needed. It felt like a splash of freshly bred sarcasm. After the months of boring monotonous existence that i lead, in which im including almost all of my bits years, and where i'd almost forgotten to read or write (or type), this was like rediscovering the joy of creative english speaking. The dialogue writers for the series 'house MD' are a bunch of geniuses. I would recommend the series to anyone who is not allergic to anything remotely connected with medicine. Now im transformed into the erupting volcano of sarcasm and anything i touch suddenly sprouts into
Ok, im overplaying it, but you get the point. Watch it if its the last thing you do.
Which brings me to the question, do you talk to yourself? Yes, im asking you , the occasional reader of this divorced blog.
Well, i do. A lot. Infact, more often than not, you can find me talking to myself in an animated manner, provided i think ur not looking. It might seem a bit boring, me talking continuously about myself like a self obsessed narcissist, but hey, if i am that, run away, shoo, before i nauseate you to death with my seemingly unending quips about myself, and if i am not that, you know i cant keep up with this myself for long.
More often than not, this self-talking-whenever-i-get-the-opportunity is mistaken for a classic case of a candidacy for a mental institution. Ok, its not the same positive self-talk crap that they try to teach us at the phonetics and english speaking class,
but it helps me pass the time, pretending im someone else having a conversation with an imaginary someone, who replies just as i want him/her to.
When i talk to myslf, most likely im anybody other than an engineer, talking something abstruse to someone who is just as intrigued in my imaginary ability to vomit out sentences that would make little sense were it made to a real person, as i am in my imaginary friend's reply.
Dont fret, im not schizopreniac or anythin, and i wont eat you. Its just sad that there's nothing half as interesting going on in my life as i would like it to be, and pretending is just a way of pepping it up a little.
Call me crazy. Are you ?