There was a time when I could write. By writing, I mean putting together thoughts that I identify with, feel strongly about or felt good about putting down on paper. It has been a very long time since I have written something that I felt good about. They say that heartbreak and melancholy inspires good writing. But what do you do, when there is no melancholy or heartbreak? Instead, what you are left with is a sense of a blank slate, when you feel nothing or don’t know what you should be sad about (you should be sad if you are not particularly happy right? Isn’t it supposed to be a binary thing? I guess not.) and you scroll through your facebook feed that you don’t even find particularly funny or enlightening or entertaining anymore.
Everybody is going to B-schools. Everybody is being sent overseas by their companies. Everybody is partying or is on some exotic vacation to a place that looks amazing on pictures. And here you lie, on that rare Saturday, feeling fat (but not feeling like getting up and exercising and ultimately caving in to the temptation of ordering in a sumptuous plate of Mutton Biryani and coke) and scrolling through Facebook, Gmail and Quora (Twitter never really grew on me, although I joined in with a pretty cool handle) trying to decide whether to rehash Game of Thrones from episode 1 or to watch the new season of Suits. I do not even feel like experimenting with a new season anymore. I feel old and fat!
In the meantime, I have written something, nothing I am particularly proud of, nothing that even particularly makes sense. But hey, there are a few words on the screen and hey, more data out there in the mighty cloud. So, l guess I shall get back to the conundrum of deciding what to watch and spend the rest of my weekend with (It’s been seven hours and I have not decided). Although I read a particular article and decided that I shall not be starting a travel blog.