After 23 years, I have run out of beginner's luck. I have quit my job and I still have not discovered what my special talent is. My relationship status is 'almost single'. I might have to marry a stranger soon. My finances will be in shambles within the next four months. I am getting more blind. I am losing hair but not much ounces of fat.
You look at others' mistakes and think to yourself," How could he not have seen that coming?"
Yes. How could I have not seen that coming?
Simple. Time suddenly decided to drink Gatorade and downed some shots of Bournvita, Complan and Vitamin syrup and decided to sprint ahead of Usain Bolt.
And you thought Mr T was my fairy-tale snail. Ha! Sucker!
Now, what do you do? You look around. Friends are getting married. The babies you knew are having babies of their own. And you count yourself lucky.
Time has not screwed me. I screwed it. I was an exceptionally lucky person but I did not take advantage of my quota. It's a law of the Luck Guardian: there is an equal measure of bad and good luck doled out in the world. So, I had my good luck when others were having a bad time. Now, my quota has run out and been transferred to someone else.
So, when you are down and out on luck, maybe it can help to think that someone else is having sudden brilliant change in life because of your rotten luck.
I still say I don't have a bad life. I need things to whine about. I don't want to be rich, beautiful and successful and happy. Actually, okay, I do but a part of me doesn't want to be. Because if I become all these, then what do I have to whine about and crack pathetic jokes about?
I have amazing friends. I still don't know how I got so lucky to meet soo many beautiful individuals. I wonder why the whole world isn't in love with them.
I have a sweet family. We don't talk too often, we meet once in a while. Still, in a weird paranormal genetical way, you understand each other. And the best thing about family is that you can hate them and yell at them, knowing that that doesn't mean they will stop loving you.
Steinbeck found his calling when he was old. Who am I in comparison? I may or may not find my calling. Though it would be welcome, it does not end life.
Romantic love? A part of me still believes in the explanation I used to give boys (yes! there were few) who told they liked me in school. It is a chemical hormonal thing that ultimately runs out. Still, I hope. and then some more. and then, I go out and get what, or who, I want.
I am getting older. So what? It makes being younger all the more fun.
Sour grapes and all that.
Still, it gives vitamins, right?
You look at others' mistakes and think to yourself," How could he not have seen that coming?"
Yes. How could I have not seen that coming?
Simple. Time suddenly decided to drink Gatorade and downed some shots of Bournvita, Complan and Vitamin syrup and decided to sprint ahead of Usain Bolt.
And you thought Mr T was my fairy-tale snail. Ha! Sucker!
Now, what do you do? You look around. Friends are getting married. The babies you knew are having babies of their own. And you count yourself lucky.
Time has not screwed me. I screwed it. I was an exceptionally lucky person but I did not take advantage of my quota. It's a law of the Luck Guardian: there is an equal measure of bad and good luck doled out in the world. So, I had my good luck when others were having a bad time. Now, my quota has run out and been transferred to someone else.
So, when you are down and out on luck, maybe it can help to think that someone else is having sudden brilliant change in life because of your rotten luck.
I still say I don't have a bad life. I need things to whine about. I don't want to be rich, beautiful and successful and happy. Actually, okay, I do but a part of me doesn't want to be. Because if I become all these, then what do I have to whine about and crack pathetic jokes about?
I have amazing friends. I still don't know how I got so lucky to meet soo many beautiful individuals. I wonder why the whole world isn't in love with them.
I have a sweet family. We don't talk too often, we meet once in a while. Still, in a weird paranormal genetical way, you understand each other. And the best thing about family is that you can hate them and yell at them, knowing that that doesn't mean they will stop loving you.
Steinbeck found his calling when he was old. Who am I in comparison? I may or may not find my calling. Though it would be welcome, it does not end life.
Romantic love? A part of me still believes in the explanation I used to give boys (yes! there were few) who told they liked me in school. It is a chemical hormonal thing that ultimately runs out. Still, I hope. and then some more. and then, I go out and get what, or who, I want.
I am getting older. So what? It makes being younger all the more fun.
Sour grapes and all that.
Still, it gives vitamins, right?
1 comments:
whine whine whine.. its a part of life.. life is not complete wen u have nuthin to whine bout.
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