Why am I taking you seriously?

Friday, February 04, 2011

This post might be removed at some point and I am pretty sure of that, given that it's written when my mucus producing ability is at the peak and I am sort of depressed- with what seems like my liver, my throat, my back and ankle are all just fucked up and I have nothing better to do currently.

I whine and I accept. I also rant it out at several places and this is just one of them. When I am not doing the aforementioned I waste a considerably large time fussing about people and I don't mention it to them because that'd just add to their big, fat ego. Also, it is flattering at a level for people to read that I talk about them which I don't mean to- on my blog atleast. They can do so, where ever they want, about themselves. Happily. I assure them, not only I'll read it but suggest jobless people like me to give it a read.

Anyhow, the point; not so long ago I met this bugger who I shall name Bugger for the rest of the post. Bugger is a total bitch and I realised it a month or two ago because I happened to meet up for meal (politer than hooking up over junk and cigarette). Now, I had ideas that bugger wanted to do the same things as I intended (and trust me, I had pretty good reasons to believe that) to in my professional front, say some five-six years down the line. I was also blown away by Bugger's writing style because it was crisp, fine, well punctuated and most of all had me satisfied with the work I was assigned to do out of those pieces. The topics were eye catching and basically bugger could very well make a livelihood out of it. However, the rendezvous we supposedly had pissed me off to a great extent.

I could go on composing and giving brilliant details about it but I shall refrain myself and limit by censorship that goes in crafting this piece. Bugger might just come across this page, figure out I am talking about him (which is a good chance, by the means of little curiosity and joblessness) and that'll give him a good ego massage.

The meeting was fail. Not because my meal sucked or because I was denied my favourite brand but because bugger kept telling me as to why my whining and cribbing is useless (and I had already warned B that I shall be doing that). Amongst other things, B kept harping that how one shouldn't plan their future and let things come the way they ought to and blah blah and more on how bugger doesn't plan to do what he intended to-then because he is waiting for life to unfold infront of him-blah blah. Bugger extended his advice by saying how I must let things come to me rather than working for them-planning them and waiting for things to fall in place. Stingy Bugger towards the end of conversation went off with the pack I bought him (part of the deal, I buy him a pack yadda yadda). I remember, coming back hopelessly frustrated for spending some cash (that I could've easily spent buying something that would've made me happy). At some level I remember bitching real bad about him and was pretty sour about the whole deal itself for next couple of days.

A week ago, I got down with this horrible influenza and I believed I am going to die (rather still believe that I might pass away one of these days, it's this feeling that you get). This flu has gotten me terribly dry and off mood with the world I'd say and pretty hopeless about things (not that I ever was positive but now pessimism has taken a whole new level). I don't have energy to walk from one room to another in college and neither is the cold going away. I am coughing like a TB ridden patient and always nauseated and feel like fever. Add to this, I had crazy backache and I couldn't help but crying at home. I don't know if it's all this or my peers have rather lost it but about thrice since last week I've almost launched into arguments with them including a lecturer. It's today that I had the thought of how my planning for next two weeks that was essentially working on my Greek Philosophy presentation and making a movie for the college fest has come down tumbling and that I have no energy to even go on and zero pictures for photography competition and getting into hard copy. I thought about Bugger in the middle of a class today where my Lecturer was mocking me and said I burst on her for some reason few days back (which, btw is true because she couldn't get my name correct even after three months of teaching me). This has nothing to do with flu or fever or fucked up liver but just what he said about life in general was true and he did nothing wrong in saying that to me. He probably did that with a weird intention of pissing me off (maybe?) or just the way it is. I don't know, why am I justifying his actions but today it seemed like that it's worthless planning or hoping for things to fall the way you want to.

Afterall, even tailored clothes go wrong- ill-fitting or cheap quality material or when the tailor mixes up designs. Anything can go wrong anytime and thinking about it is futile.

I must go and charge my laptop, blow nosie and try to get some sleep before my blood test results officially show that my liver is fucked up truly. Thank you.

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  1. Snobster had a date with bugger. Bugger was impressed. So bugger yapped for snobster to feel that way. Snobster was offended, but snobster is in love, knee deep, bugger shall too.
    Also, do you have sex with your Greek Philosophy book, what is the fascination!?

  2. Snobster had a date with bugger. Bugger was impressed. So bugger yapped for snobster to feel that way. Snobster was offended, but snobster is in love, knee deep, bugger shall too.
    Also, do you have sex with your Greek Philosophy book, what is the fascination!?

  3. Greek Philosophy and Bugger hold equal value in my life currently. They're both on my mind- on and off and I am fascinated by both.


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