Tag Archives: meaning of life

Lazy Weekend Love

Yesterday we got home a little too drunk on microbrewery…

I tried one extremely heavy beer and one really light one and there was one that made me lose count…

At home, I fell asleep on the couch before I got a chance to change into my pj… Hubby slept on the sofa in his room with his coat on…

And thus, with the light of Saturday morning gazing at me in between my half shut eyelids and my breathing still tuned to sleep mode, I heard the call for our LAZY WEEKEND echoing through our alcohol loaded snores!!

I love lazy weekends! I love staying at home, generally on the couch, mostly on the same spot on the couch, always with a device to get connected, with a few dozes of snooze in between the loading web pages…

Is this AGING? Is this growing old? My parents used to spend almost the whole weekend snoring and reading newspapers and snoring some more. I hated it. I used to think they had no life and the way they were spending their free time made their lives devoid of any meaning. Now, I am in that very same position and the feeling I get is the exact opposite!!!

I don’t want to go out and force a smile for people I barely know, just so that I can find a ‘social’ pretext to leave home. Now, I only want to have real relations with real friends even if it means seeing them once a month rather than having superficial talks every weekend at large parties where I hardly know anyone and diving my way through a sea of people until I can assume that this one person I meet has a personality I might have something in common with.

Now, on Fridays, rather than going out and staying up late at clubs and pubs with a herd of ‘friends’, the idea that I will get to spend the whole weekend on my own, doing only what I feel like doing, without having to put on socially acceptable behavior, without any makeup, with the smell of sleep still hanging onto my pores and the pajamas I am determined to wear for the next two days makes me feel ecstatic.

No phones, no facebook, no social networking…

Only me slouched on the couch, surfing the net passively, typing a little bit, reading a few chapters, watching some shows, spooning hubby a couple of minutes, sipping some coffee and enjoying the creative joy of laziness for 48 hours…

That is what makes me happy now… And if this is aging, I like it…

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Meaning of Life and Man

I have spent years chasing the tail of my darkness. I cannot catch my past, like a dog trying to get hold of its tail, seeing its tip, I see the tail wiggling, making fun of me, but whenever I am about to get hold of it, whenever I am close to catching it, understanding the mystery, bringing some light to the darkness, it goes further away, mocking me, making a fool of me…

So I carry on further through days and nights…

I have met many people on my way, some were old some were young, some were slow, some were fast, but I have never spent enough time at one place to make real friends, to share a drink, a moment that could last forever, a moment immortalized like a painting in memory.

I have felt closer to some, though, and more distant from others. I have had some children, here and there but never stayed behind to watch them survive. I could not have stayed… I had a tail of darkness to chase… a world of wonders to figure out. Did I wish I could stay?… I am not sure… This life of wandering, hours, days, weeks of wandering, hoping to find out what life had in store for me consumed me, made me restless… I believed I could figure it all out only if I kept on, and saw what was hidden in the dark.

I had no one to ask about my past, to direct my questions… I never knew my mother or father… I never knew where they had met, how they had decided to conceive me… Probably they had acted on an impulse, a raw urge to copulate rather than a thoroughly designed plan for the future. Much like the way I came to be a parent, I assume. Probably, they did not brood much over it, and followed their instincts, their inner drive to be close to someone, to feel fluid with another.

Probably I followed in their foosteps without even knowing them, and most probably my children are no different. Probably, my past is nothing but a vicious cycle, a ferris wheel that returns to its starting point, sooner or later and over and over…

I wonder how similar my children have grown to be, how much a part they are of this cycle… I wonder if they are on an endless quest for answers… An endless quest to understand why they are the way they are… Why they do what they do… Who they are… I wonder if they ever wonder about me… I wonder if they feel abandoned like me, or accept it as part of life and move on. Moving on endlessly, slowly…

But I am certain, soon I will find an answer to all my questions, soon I will know why this darkness haunts me, why I cannot stop moving, why I cannot break out of it, why I am alive, and what my existence holds for the world, what it means to-

 CRACK! SQUASH!

Without even bothering to look at the snail and its philosophical quest he had just obliterated under his foot, the man walked on counting the money he had earned gambling.

The first line of this week’s Speakeasy challenege was to write a piece of fiction of 750 words or less starting with “I have spent years chasing the tail of my darkness.” and making a reference to Paul Cezanne’s painting the Card Players.