final_Internal Monologue

Most days, I love my life, and I love being me. Yes, I said ‘most days’.

I account my love to the fact that most times there is this monologue going on in my head, that reads off like a script.

Of course the script is that of the fabulous, fun loving but of course flawed ‘me’. This monologue starts as soon as I wake up, going to work, interacting with the kids and well into the night. The only time it takes a break is while I’m reading a good book. Actually even then it says “and she sits down comfortably to read a book”.

Something that will make me sound even more hatter-like is that I often find myself talking TO my monologue. It goes something like this:
“And she asks herself, ‘Are you ok? Are you handling this? Are you feeling alright?“
The loopiness aside, what I was coming to was, being the protagonist of my own amazing script, it is not very often that I need in my life something that someone else does or has. But, of course, there has been moments. Such as these days I would give a leg and an arm to drop down a few sizes in clothes.

Coming back from my tangent again, there was this particular individual, let’s call her a celebrity of sorts, whom I was admittedly remotely jealous of. And last week I saw this YouTube video of her conversing about something silly and it startled me. It startled me because right then I realized that I had been jealous of this image, this person I had built up in my head, who had NOTHING to do with the actual person she was. I try my best not to judge, but it was sort of obvious that she was not the sort my life would have anything to do with.

I think what I am trying to say is, life is hard enough, and filled with obstacles and judgments, even without us wanting to be someone else, doing something else. Happiness is not out there in the world waiting for us to find it; it is within, in the everyday, staring at us at every turn, we JUST have to GRAB it.

..write long blog posts. I just cant. I was browsing the blogosphere for some inspirations and I came across blog after blog where I could keep on scrolling down to see the end – and there was none. Ok, I might be exaggerating a bit there but Seriously bloggers. It was UnReal.

I had to then question myself, if I really WAS doing it right, am I really asking (or answering) the right questions. Is there some cryptic rule book that is unknown to me, which specifies a minimum word count and a specific structure?

And then I remembered. Wait a second, I couldn’t care a rat’s bottom (I am learning to watch my language with the 6 year old) if there is one. It’s my blog –  to rant, to think, to ask, to answer. It shouldn’t really matter, if my question is 5  or 500 words long.

And so this is me, making my own rules in my own space.

Blog Gyan for the year, DONE!

This book had me bewildered, confounded and bedazzled. There are some books I read from start to finish in a few hours, and some I have to push through the first few chapters before I start loving it. There are some again that I just don’t understand from start to finish, but I read them, just because I hate leaving a book unfinished MORE than I dislike the book itself. But THIS book left me *dazed*, yes that’s the work I pick, dazed.

I automatically link myself to either the protagonist or one of the main characters of any book I am reading, but in this, I feel detached, like I am a doctor dissecting a cadaver. I feel numb, I feel emotionless.

The fact that I am writing about this book on my blog obviously proves that this book means something to me, resonates somewhere inside me, but I guess what I am trying to say is, for the life of me, I can’t think of what that feeling is.

On the website of this book there is a question I answer now.

What would one piece of advice to your past self be?

It would be to believe. To believe in everything becoming right at the end. To believe that there exists a happy ending. To strengthen the belief in a supreme power, to believe that the happily-ever-after does exist and it is right around the corner.


I am book-lover and it is hard for me to review a book, because I am yet to come across the one I imagine I could write better. And so the books I mention on this blog are those I read and those I love.