My glass is half full

Maybe with Mojito
Maybe with lemon iced tea
Or maybe with filter coffee.
Depends on my mood.

They make me feel optimistic, somehow. Does it make sense?

 It doesn't have to always.

What are you supposed to do if you are forced to stay home during a two-month long summer vacation with the shallow comfort of a cellphone, a laptop, a T.V, a swimming pool, morning walks, an occasional cuppa coffee with a friend, maybe lunch, and the only family outing being a mere dinner?

To add to that, you hear your friends gushing about their plans to holiday in Europe, Australia, Thailand and the like.

I have had my share of cribbing. I have had my share of whining about my problems. After a point, even complaining loses its charm.

So now, I'd like to think of it this way - Maybe this two-month vacation is a chance for me to explore my skills as an artist, a writer, a singer, and a guitarist. Or a chance to make up for all those months of inactivity by swimming and walking. Also a chance to meet school friends whom I have missed ever since college began. It's up to me to optimize on these days of freedom, not boredom.

Optimism is bullshit, say my cynical group of friends.

It's not. It's that one that keeps me going against Misery's efforts to drag me down to Level Zero. 

Minding my own business

Sometimes my seamless concern for others disgusts me.

I think it's a girl phenomenon. Else it's just completely my problem.

Unavailing, otious concern. I'm talking about pointlessly analysing somebody else's life. Sometimes it could also be that silly curiosity that plants itself in my idle brain.

There's a reason why they say an idle mind is a devil's worshop. In this case the devil assumes the form of senseless scrutiny.

Why is she dating that dumb dude?
What did he see in her?
Wait, what did she see in him?

What will happen if he gets into that college known for its snotty crowd?

If I ignore her calls just once, will she get mad at me?

Why is he messing with his life?
He shouldn't smoke.
She shouldn't smoke.

Why couldn't she opt for the career of her choice?
Why can't she make her own decisions?

Why, why did she fall into bad company? I didn't expect that.

Why can't he cut his shaggy mane?
Why did he go bald for chrissake?!

And, amongst all these unnecessary questions and thoughts dedicated to others, I forget one important person.

Me.

Everyone talks about this thing called Ego. Self-importance and adulation. Oh, I was so proud of it. It comforted me when I was hurt. But, I couldn't comfort it when it got hurt.Well, this is completely off the context but it's a wonder that I forget all about it, worrying about others. I should put it first. Worrying about myself and my problems to an extent is healthier than to worry about the choices others make, and the trouble they invite upon themselves.

It's good to care but as I ponder, I conclude that I excessively indulge in thoughts about everything possible which is not in my control. For heaven's sake, my friends do have some rationality to their credit.

It's THEIR life. As Bon Jovi would say.

Almost half my brain is occupied with thoughts about others. Are they really worth all that space in my head? I don't know. I guess not.

Indecisive for myself but decisive for others.That's what it has come to. Control freakism-ish I suppose.

Would my best friend reserve that much of her brain space for me? I don't think my boyfriend ever did that either.

Minding my own business is something I need to grasp.
 

Anger Management

I'm amazed at myself for coming up with this post.

Getting angry is never the solution to anything. That's what they say. I would like to believe that to a certain extent. Getting angry increases your blood pressure, fills you with an ugly, nasty burning sensation, and also stimulates all that pent up emotion to leak out in the form of angry tears. Why put yourself through such discomfort?

"Hothead!"

"What a grouch!"

"Chill!"

"Stop getting so worked up!"

"Whoa! That's some temper."

"You are always pissed at someone or the other. Haha."

I get this all the time. From friends. From family. Recently, a friend remarked that I have the silent rage syndrome. Wow, intriguing.

Screw you.

Anger was my loyal friend when I went through this dark phase last year. It didn't make things easier. But, somehow feeling angry towards those who had hurt me seemed to give me some temporary strength. It was a concoction of bitterness, anger, complaints, dissatisfaction and sadness. It caused my heart to burn no doubt, yet there was a short-lived solace. It helped me get through each day.

It gives others a chance to provoke me further, and poke fun at me. I have learnt to become immune to it. I have developed a thick skin against all those digs at my temperament.

I can't cry easily. I get angry easily.

That's how I am. Learn to deal with it.

The aftermath of anger is nasty. Most of the times I get engulfed by this deep cloud of regret for having overreacted to something or to someone. And at such times I wish my temper didn't make me so vulnerable to an onslaught of other painful emotions that were uncalled for.

So here I am, giving a shot at anger management.