In which I talk about the Quarter Life Crisis. Again.

It’s been quiet around here for the longest time — dude, studying for a Masters degree is exhausting and not just because of the many ways in which it leaves you more prone to sleep in the daytime and hunger pangs post-midnight and hey, it’s not cool — but, hello.

So I thought this little blog from this part of the universe was dead and rotting because, really, WHO WOULD EVEN WANT TO READ THIS ANYMORE? (Yeah, I still think that. Sometimes. When I think of the blog, ie). I mean, my last post happened in June, 2013 and here we are in Feb, 2014 (holy shit) and we’re all almost a year older already and everyone’s obviously moved on in their lives from wherever they were last year. Then I realised that I still have some 315 followers, so maybe, maybe someone out there would still want to read this.

So much has changed.
For instance my writing voice has undergone a change. All my narrative voices now belong to twenty-somethings, which is a little overwhelming considering that I’ve spent almost all my life so far writing young adult stuff. Young adults still feature heavily in anything I write but the twenty-somethings take centre-stage. Because, lets face it, at 23, I feel like the twenties have taught me waaaay more than all that I’ve learnt in the rest of the years of my life combined. I used to think being a teenager was hard but heck, nobody warned me about what the twenties would be like – it’s youagainsttheworld hard. And I think this is when you grow into the person you will probably be for the majority of the rest of your life to come (I’m guessing) so everything you do becomes doubly important. And, WHY DOES NOBODY WRITE ABOUT ANY OF THIS? The majority of books I’ve read featuring twenty somethings only talk about a relationship a twenty something has with a particular someone. (Okay, maybe I’m not reading the right books – somebody throw recommendations my way, please?) But, hey, how did it get so easy for them? I thought the quarter life crisis featured the crisis that relationships have been causing our generation, not a relationship. If it was so easy to figure out which relationship will end up defining us, none of us would be hyperventilating so much. Or, okay, maybe that’s just me.

And wait..what about the jobs? Why does nobody write about the scary prospect of landing or not landing a job? Post-university life is like taking a plunge into the Black Hole, hurtling yourself through a corridor which you know only ends in oblivion but which you hope will take you to a roses-and-daisies garden. In reality you just end up somewhere inbetween, although you seem to hit both extremes alternately most times.

The only representation that comes even remotely close to portraying what this quarter-life crisis is like is the HBO tv series Girls. I think. At least the first two seasons were good. The third one’s kinda blah but the reason it has me nodding along to it is because it straight-up shows it as it is. No, relationships aren’t as romantic as the movies make them up to be, even if you have the one that you want. Sex can be awesome and crude at the same time and no, that doesn’t make you part of a porno. Your dream job will in all  probability not be as cracked up to be but that’s okay, you have a job and you would rather do this than anything else, so keep at it. Or quit. Or whatever. Yes, we are selfish and impulsive and scared – sofuckingscared – and most of the time we have no clue about what we are really looking for and to add the cherry on the cake, we are getting old. Oh my god.

Dude. Life is hard.

And it doesn’t get any easier when the world around you is falling apart and you want so hard to make it all right again but you can’t because fucking laws. So I’m talking about India, where two months back the Supreme Court overturned the High Court’s ruling that had de-criminalized homosexuality back in 2009. Basically, after granting every individual the right to love and fuck with consent whoever they want to, my country just reverted back to the stone age and declared that 2.5 million (and that’s just the official estimate) of its population are criminals simply on the basis of who they choose to love. Reaaaally. I thought Russia was crazy but this is loon haven extraordinaire.

Which brings me to this. Watch, if you haven’t already. Norway is the coolest.

If governing bodies start making laws against love, I don’t know what it’s saying about the human race in general. I mean, I get that in spite of our much-spoken-about powers of reasoning, we’re actually pretty stupid, but are we really that cruel? It’s like watching a dystopian world unfold right before you. And we shouldn’t have to deal with something like that. Nobody has to.

So, yes, it’s pretty bleak out there. And here in Delhi there hasn’t even been much of the sun. Which isn’t all that bad (hey, I like it cloudy – but only, weather-wise) but it takes more than three days for my clothes to dry. THREE DAYS. In the meanwhile I’m running out of both clothes and money and very soon *hopefully* I’ll be done with my M.A. as well and then I have noideawhattodo. Oh shit.

The good thing, though, is the fact that I’ve finally found my drive to write again and I quite like the new writing voice and my family and I’ve never gotten along better and even though the world’s a very shitty place sometimes, it also has it’s moments of loveliness like what these people did when they saw this little boy shivering in the cold and that just restores your faith in almost everything. And although some terrible people are running (or hoping to run) the country and messing with the basic fundamental rights of so many people I love there’s still a flickering hope that we could dust off the drivel and change the world to be a better place because even though I’ve blown off all my savings for this month on new books, I’m kinda happy and some 1452kms away in my hometown there’s a beautiful boy who makes me mad but makes me smile more often and it’s cold but I have socks on my feet and college isn’t bad (although I have no idea where I go from here) but hey, I have hopes. I hope you do too. And I hope you never give up on that.

And I hope you listen to her. This is SoKo and I only just found her on Youtube Narnia. She’s French and beautiful and makes me want to curl up and cry happy tears.

And if that’s not your kind, get yourself some Nirvana. It’s Kurt’s birthday 🙂 And I think he still smells like teen spirit.

In Which I Talk About Being An Epic Fail

If you’re still reading this blog, I want to hug you. I realise you wouldn’t want to hug back, cos I’ve been a terrible blogger. Erratic posts, months of neglect, you know what I mean. I don’t really have to emphasize. But, YOU – deserve a hug of appreciation.

Thing is, I don’t even have an excuse for this.
I can’t tell you that I’ve been awfully busy or that something terrible happened that kept me away from the virtual world because it’s not true. My life hasn’t been tough. On the contrary it’s been rather pleasant. Except for the fact that I’ve been sick for a week, I’ve been…almost happy. And this isn’t about a week-long illness. This blog-neglect thing has been building up for months now. Almost 6 months into the year and I have an embarrassing number of posts to show for it.
The cause? I’ll get back to you on that when I find out.
All I do know, is that somehow that drive is gone. (Doesn’t it feel like a pity party already?)
I’ve been an erratic blogger, to the point where sometimes the whole blogging thing has started to feel like a chore. When it’s really not. I mean, nobody ever forced me into this thing. Yes, I do have author/publisher review requests waiting for me, but they only send them ‘cos they know I love doing it and I’ve asked for it. Not like I’m being force-fed it.
My reading count has gone down. It’s like I’ve hit the lowest of the lows since I was, I don’t know, 9 years old.  I planned on reading a 100 books this year and instead I’m floundering somewhere in the early 20s when almost half-the-freaking-year is gone.
And writing? I haven’t added anything new to What Was Mine since February and I dare to call myself an aspiring writer. I keep thinking about it and seeing everything unfold in my head like a movie, but somehow, when it comes to putting it into writing, the words have stopped flowing.
It’s like I’ve lost that whole drive to do the things that I loved the most.
And no, it doesn’t even give me the satisfaction of feeling like a tortured artist. No trench-coat-wearing (it’s too freaking hot), cigarette-smoking (allergic), caffeine-drinking (happens, but occasionally) tormented persona for me to fall back on. That romance has flown outta the window. All I do now is watch Supernatural (at least that’s one loved thing I still have immense drive for) and scream-sing along to Aerosmith and Kansas and all those bands that feature on the Supernatural soundtrack and then I think about how cool all their lives are and it makes me feel tremendously sad that I’m freaking-21-years-old and I haven’t even achieved half the things I thought I would by now. And I don’t know, I just can’t even do anything about it because now when I think of distracting myself from thoughts of this ridiculous helplessness I can’t even read or write, instead I Facebook-procrastinate. Like, seriously. What is wrong with me?

It’s like I’ve even stopped trying. Like, earlier there was a certain belief to hold on to. A belief that yeah, all those things that I dream of? Yes, they can come true. But it’s like somebody reached inside me and pulled that belief out, ground it into powder and blew it into the wind and now it’s so far away I can’t even get it back. Like someone put all those dreams and goals in a bag and stamped a big-lettered ‘Cancelled’ over it and now dangles it over my head just to show that no, none of them came true and I’m exactly where I was two years back and maybe this’ll where I’ll be in many more years to come. Just stagnant.
When I think about blogging, getting back into it and it’s cool-dom, I’m left wondering, WHO ON EARTH WILL EVEN WANT TO READ THIS ANYMORE? I mean, there are so many bigger, better, so-much-more-brilliant blogs out there, then why THIS? And then it’s back to Kansas and Aerosmith and Avril’s rendition of Knocking On Heaven’s Door, which all just makes me sad all over again and I don’t even know why.
There are SO many books out there I want to read. And plenty more are coming out. Like Amy Reed’s Crazy, which I’m reading on Netgalley and which has pretty much wrecked my heart even though I’m only halfway in. I just wish I’d find the drive to talk about them again. And need to feel that what I say does matter. Even to one person.
It’s ridiculous. I don’t think I’ve ever moped so publicly. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I felt the need to just get it out there. I mean, what the heck, at least the blog gets an update. Oh god. I could just ramble on and on and you could be there with your mouse hovering over the ‘unfollow’ button (I know there there isn’t one, that you have to go a long way to get there, but still), unless you’ve done it already, and I wouldn’t know where to stop. You know those frenzies you get into and you don’t know how far they can just go on? Yeah, that.
Not pleasant.
Sigh.
Here’s the thing: I don’t know where I go from here. Like, if I’ve be back to responsible reader/writer/blogger ways. I have no freaking clue. Whether just getting this post out there will magically bring back my drive and all fine things along with it. Heck, I wish it would. And hell yeah, I’m gonna put in some sort of an effort to get things back into their rightful place. No promises, but try I will. I probably owe myself just that much. I think.
Ever found yourself in such a rut?
And just cos you stuck around – if you have – and witnessed this Blog Dance of Pathetico, I’ll reward your eyes with something pleasant. Something waaaaaay more pleasant.
I hope you’re having a good time 🙂