Monday, November 01, 2004
Something Did Not Survive The Weekend
It was like waking up from a long slumber, it was as if someone from your past came up and told you you were a super-hero and somehow forgot your powers and your legend, it was like reading my own cenotaph and not believing that the deeds that were written there were indeed mine.
The cynic in me did not survive the weekend.
I discovered I was lacking something that defined my college days - PASSION. Somehow I lost something that fueled me to speak my mind and put everything into all my undertakings. "Anything worth doing, is worth doing well" as the saying goes. I do not kn0w when I lost it, but I now know why. My ideas were branded "stupid" and everything that I say needs to be censored, I was walking on thin ice. I was too grounded and underappreciated.
It took a lot of people to make me cynical...
I heard a lot of stories about infidelity, of broken dreams. It was a sad, dreary world and happiness can only be achieved by accumulating material things. Dreaming was not an option.
It took one person to make me remember the romantic that I was (and still am).
I am re-discovering how a good conversation really feels and that wishes do come true.
I spent the whole night painting. And while I still have an office clock to beat in the morning, I did not worry. I was loving what I was doing, it was on every line and every stroke. While the world around me slept, I am glad that I just woke up.
The cynic in me did not survive the weekend.
I discovered I was lacking something that defined my college days - PASSION. Somehow I lost something that fueled me to speak my mind and put everything into all my undertakings. "Anything worth doing, is worth doing well" as the saying goes. I do not kn0w when I lost it, but I now know why. My ideas were branded "stupid" and everything that I say needs to be censored, I was walking on thin ice. I was too grounded and underappreciated.
It took a lot of people to make me cynical...
I heard a lot of stories about infidelity, of broken dreams. It was a sad, dreary world and happiness can only be achieved by accumulating material things. Dreaming was not an option.
It took one person to make me remember the romantic that I was (and still am).
I am re-discovering how a good conversation really feels and that wishes do come true.
I spent the whole night painting. And while I still have an office clock to beat in the morning, I did not worry. I was loving what I was doing, it was on every line and every stroke. While the world around me slept, I am glad that I just woke up.
