The Light is Here to Stay

Attended an odissi margam two days ago; a graduation of sorts of a student from the institution I now call my temple of bliss, my dance school and most importantly the one place I've longed to belong in. Attending such performances in a venue that oozes an ecclesiastical mood somehow drowns me of my sorrows. Not at all to appear gloomy and despondent but to bring across the point the elation of a dance enthusiast in such a befitting occasion. She, being a mother of two, completed 6 odissi pieces encompassing the various gists of the repertoire. A feat I have sowed within myself to, one fine day, accomplish...

After which followed a meet up with Cookies and Cakes and Stylish Mistress. It has been long since the three had been in each others' company and for me it was evident. Sorry Cookies and Cakes, I did not want to end the night in the mercy of silence. There were times when I wanted to leave, walk back a few tens of kilometers to where I currently live at. But I held back. I can't even seem to pen down my awkwardness of which I attribute to the fact that a grudge was borne against me. For not having informed Cookies and Cakes that the performance fell on that night, for sloshing alone on a night they were out together previously which I could've conveniently tagged along. Cookies and Cakes was at one of his irritated semblance again which really drove me up the wall. I hoped I was wrong, I am still hoping I am wrong. And it didn't help that I was too perturbed about this that I could not pay attention to what they were chattering away resulting in making a fool of myself. They too seemed to think I did. The worst of it all was when I said, according to them (and finally), something intelligent enough to laugh about. I kept to myself throughout the whole night because I felt patronised for, it seems, stating the obvious. I don't blame them, if anything I'd share their being put off for my lack of enthusiasm and insight, for and into their grounds of conversation. I was stalwart to being quiet than to be laughed at; in a rather condescending tone, I must add. I cannot relate to Stylish Mistress anymore, nor could I connect to Cookies and Cakes throughout the entire night except for the last 30 minutes or so, on our way back to my abode. Surprisingly enough, as excruciating as it sounded none of this mattered after the night ended. It became, just and yet, another humbling experience for me.

Cookies and Cakes seem to think that a series of mishap has taken over me. Changed me. That I am lost in time and space; that I have lost myself, my true self. But I am certain I haven't; it is true, I appear to no longer share sentiments towards things I used to hold dear, fashion for instance, nor am being opinionated over issues that deserve debating. According to Cookies and Cakes, I have also been socially reclusive, a statement which came as no surprise to me. Over the past few months my ideals on life has changed so drastically that I no longer want the things I used to crave for nor am sad about the things that have, inevitably, slipped away. I do not shy away from the possibility of my family being a contributing factor; my mom's ultimate possessive attitude, my brother's lack of responsibility, and my dad's interminable indifference. Then again, truth be told, it is not the whole picture; it isn't the deep-rooted reasons for my apparent dispassion. I only hope that they do not misjudge it all to be ignorance or apathy.

I am not deliriously happy neither am I morbidly depressed. I am comfortable being this under-the-radar person, satisfied with my current stance, predicament and choices. I am no more moaning the lost of love, no more jumping like a child in a candy store at Givenchy's and Marc Jacobs', no more shouting at wits end over something unfathomably glorious, no explicit immature expressions of joy or sadness. I am still that sanguine being I used to be; but the reasons for which I am, shares a whole new perspective.

I was never someone who messed up to detestable proportions (except the smoking) and it is probably why I seem like the last, and the least of any given exercise and/or experience. Nothing is to be justified about this. I was also someone who adhered, almost religiously, to societal norms if and when compared to the circle of my closest friends. Parentage and tutelage by the Priest and Priestess has made me somewhat drawn to seek acceptance and approval by whoever, whatever and however it is that I look upon, revere and deem possible. Fore mostly, my family, then my friends and finally my relatives. BUT, I have had wishes and wants, some of which I blindly pursued. I've had longings and desires, some of which I gladly succumbed to. I've also had voids and inadequacies, some of which I erroneously filled up. All this, in my course of life has led me to false pretenses, unjust reasoning and most devastatingly, sorrow until the day that light showed up. I see that light, peeking through cracks of my past. It is slowly creeping up through my feet, filling, as it goes, every dubious crevice in my life. A force is blocking me at every turn of injustice I put myself through. My feet is steadfast to willing beliefs but my actions yield unwilling bouts of painful repercussions. My ego is smashed at every turn, my thoughts humbled and my heart ever-growing to ceaselessly embrace all this unexpected mishaps.

I really have no idea how this blog entry took form but I know it was written. I am glad it was...