Reality, realisation, renaissance

A good night is when things happen just the way you would have planned them. Like the other night at Tabula Rasa where Jalebee Cartel burned the floor. And surprise of surprises, they would change track in between their set to play Becoming Insane (Infected Mushroom). Now that song’s been on my mind and on my myspace page for like a month so what are the chances that when am out one Thursday night, doing my usual dance-by-self, my current fav number should be played?! Yea baby, loved it all right. And THEN, the weekend was made fab by a surprise 30-minute spin by DJ Jayant at Baci on Friday night. It was also the night to see/hear an old friend get back to spinning tunes (and me) on the dance floor, Karan aka Balam DJ made a return…and I was hearing him after 5 years. Pluto days, don’t know how many Delhi people will remember that. Also heard DJ Steve (regulars at Soho)…hmmm… and the dude has a rather somber expression while playing. And does have a stern way of looking at you suddenly. Maine kya kiya? But anyway, with Becoming Insane and then Jayant doing his surprise thingy, had a musically satisfying week(end). Meanwhile, the mind was all this while on its usual self-analytical spin…

How many of you say or believe in "I don't care what people say about me?" There are more often than not times when I do say that and perhaps I can manage it too (not being bothered)… but there are times, when what people say to me, about me, gets to me. It's not as much WHAT they say that bothers me, but it's the WHY they said it. Hmm. Have been getting some pretty nasty, though-masked-in-sweetness stuff from fucking all over, and when I don't watch it, there are times it gets to me. And as I write my blog, some things are clearing themselves and others are getting further muddled, hopefully to clear out on some other occasion. Realisations about people and their possible motives; of course everything believed with the belief that I might just be paranoid. And these realizations are as much for me as much for those who read.

Realisation 1: People read. Even if it's two repeat visits by the same IP, people read; and while I don't know how much sense I make (to others), I will try and control the tyops. Typos I mean. :)

Realisation 2: When you are an open/candid person, people will analyse. Wrongly. And if you write openly, people don't just read what you write. They read between the lines. They READ you, i.e. Me. People analyse you and given half the chance, will tell you what is wrong with you. Interesting: Yes, please notice that whenever someone will have something to say about you, it is never a good thing. It's always about what you do wrong etc How people love to say things – HARSHLY analytical things, things that are meant to hurt and provoke and get a reaction out of you. They will say that, pretending to be friends, on your face, and will watch to see if it got to you. Umm, all those who have been coming up with interesting character analysis – please feel free to leave your feedback on the blog, with your names. Come out dahlings, come out and give me the crap you try to load on to me in person. And then I will analyse you. And I promise, I will do a fucking good job of it.

Realisation 3: People will ALWAYS project their weaknesses on to you. The moment someone tells you there is something WRONG with you, don't let it get to you. My first reaction when a negative feedback comes from a stranger is to bite their heads off. Yes, yes, I am a little porcupine. And when negative feedback comes from friends or 'pretend-friends'… it hurts. Somehow, I have realized, that when my friends (real ones) tell me something wrong or not-so-right about me, it does NOT hurt. Because you know what? Real friends and real well-wishers ALWAYS know how to put things across. It's the fucking fakes who pretend to be wishing you well and say nasty things to hurt you in the garb of good things. So you think that BECAUSE I write as much as I do, I don’t think about what I write? How about a different thought? How about thinking that perhaps I assimilate and process my thoughts faster than you, that maybe I write as much because I can think faster and write faster than you? And perhaps because I have things to say?

Realisation 4: You can never think too much. No matter who says what. Because the ones who say you think too much will never think for you. “You think too much Eve*, you should think less.”No thank you, my brain functions, things make me think and I want to write about them. It’s funny, the same people who say you “think too much” also declare that you “don’t think much before you write”. Decide baba, does Eve* think too much or too little.

Realisation 5: Everyone has rejection issues; if anyone tells you that it is only you, they are trying to mask their own rejection issues.“You have rejection issues and sadly, you might get rejected because of your rejection issues.” Yes, I have rejection issues – having two men who were VERY important to me repeatedly push me away, I do have rejection issues. I don’t want to be pushed away when I hug my man. I don’t want to be told that I am an 8.8/10 and the Ex is a 9.9/10. Or be told how you would behave differently around me IF you were in love with me. Enough, dude. Frankly, I don’t even know too many people who WANT to be rejected, so I am not much different. So perhaps I am more paranoid than most about rejection to the extent that if I feel even the SLIGHTEST chance that I might not be accepted for who/what/how I am will have me either getting defensive or hitching my skirt and running. What to do?!

Realisation 6: Feeling bad about yourself and crying are perfectly natural. And no matter how many times you are told that you should not feel bad about yourself or not to cry or not feel angry – do not listen to people. Cry: weep loudly, sit on the floor or sprawl and bawl your eyes out. Scream out, break things even. Do WHAT it takes to take the shit pain out of your system. Remember to get up and wash your face afterwards, blow your nose and put some eye drops or rose water if your eyes turn red (mine look as if I have smoked eight joints in a row). But please, FEEL your pain, your hurt, your loss, your whatever. It IS the first step. Trying to be strong all the time will get to you. It gets to me for sure. And I really want to sock people who go, “Weak people cry,” etc. NO. People who FEEL, hurt and therefore cry. There is a reason why when in shock or trauma, even medically, tears are supposed to be a release. Feel ANGER that someone has wronged you. Remember it and DON’T let it happen again. And next time someone tells you life is beautiful and rosy, give them one hard laat (kick) and tell them to fuck off. It’s better to know life can be fucked up and be prepared than get a nasty surprise.
And oh, for men, on crying: This might get me the kicks from you guys, BUT if a man cries as frequently as a woman, this woman gets seriously freaked out. I develop an identity crisis of sorts…because if He cries as much, who gives me the shoulder when I am crying? You are the man, so feel and cry, but don’t be me. Good things happen sporadically, enjoy them. And be prepared for the shit to hit the fan. It will.

Realisation 7: People never fight fair. If you are a friend, don’t stand in my way. Be there, so that if and when I do fall in the ditch you are there with a ready helping hand. I don’t understand friends who chain you to protect you. Similarly, friends who say mean things to “share their insight” with you are no friends. DON’T get into psychological war with me. Like this chick I know – and this is the first time I am getting personal on this blog and the last – who has been pretending to be a friend and doling out one funda after another about who I am and what I should be. I have heard you so far and it has bothered me – BECAUSE had you been a stranger, I would have laughed it off. But you pretended to be a friend. No more. No mind games and don’t cross my path. You are no match for me.
Meanwhile, all those pretending to be Good-Girls-With-secret-sex-lives, boys with dominating father issues, alcohol issues, past girlfriend issues – DO NOT analyse me. I have issues and I might be fucked up, but guess what? I KNOW that. And that is my strength. Which you will never have.

And no, I am NOT manic-depressive. But if I don’t make my imagined bipolarity work for me, I will change my name. :) Currently, I am hurting and confused (it’s all clearing up though), but maybe tomorrow, I will be fine. And no, by that I don’t mean Love. I want nothing to do with that word. Tell me you hate me. Hate me too. But please, please NEVER tell me you love me. You lie. And I cannot forgive lies.