The more things change...

It is a perpetual dilemma as to which is more important - to love or be loved. By your job, your boss, your partner, your friends... which way should you wish that the balance be tilted?

It becomes difficult to believe in novelty when you do new things, go to new places, but feel and express yourself in old ways. Almost feels like the part of you that revels in change had gone numb. And yet, there is another part that craves it every waking moment. I'm not even sure how I define "change for the better" now... I only need to know that I will receive one new gesture or look from another person, spare one new thought or word towards the world. It will help me ignore the stony reception I get for regular quarters every day - new home, new flatmates, new "mentor", new colleagues... old distance. Self-pity is something I have not allowed myself to indulge much since I have moved to Bombay... I had sworn I would at least give it the chance to live up to its epithet. City of dreams. I had sworn I wouldn't let new demons get to me - I just don't seem to be able to rid myself of old ones. I can't be sure if I'm allowed to dream with impunity here - if they don't fit in with the dreams of the streets, they might well come to naught. They are very unclear now. Just as unclear as why exactly I am.

Self-pity is something I cringe at when I see it another person - the more I see it in other people, the more equipped I become to recognize it in myself, and hold it off. The more I see other people feel low about things that they cannot change, the more determined I become to turn confusion into a sense of purpose. If there is one thing I will not be, it is weak. I won't pretend to care beyond the space my mind offers to the many people I alienate in the process, the many relationships I treat unjustly. I will not be someone else's handkerchief, neither will I ask anybody else for one.

I watched "Class of 84" again yesterday - nice play, again. Got to observe the actors' expressions and tone more intricately because I was seeing it for the second time. Just as it did last time, it disturbed me. Some of the issues raised were rather too close to home. Also wanted to see another play called "Hair" (a Rapunzel connection, for some clarity), but couldn't make it because I had to go dressed like a pirate to a company do. This after half a day spent running, jumping, and throwing cannonballs and javelins in the pouring rain. It was fun to be running, I must admit. Overdid it a little, now my legs creak everytime I walk, but what the heck, its not like they're going to be contributing to any nature walks or protest runs anything else productive for a while anyway. But by Saturday I had begun to feel nostalgic about a time when going out was on a whim, when my day did not have to be planned to the last minute, when complex logistical information did not have to be swapped everytime I had to meet someone. And begun to wish there weren't so many people to meet. But then again, the way I would like to spend my weekend does not necessarily agree with the people I want to spend it with... so out come the logistics datasheets again.

Well, I'm here for a good while, so I might as well find ways to make it fun for myself, what? Something about practising what you preach.. high time I started racking my memory for that one.