The fan whirs away, doing just one favor to my universe, exhobirant electricity bills. Still it had a soothing sense on me. Almost felt like it is my best friend, cause don’t I do the same thing , I too just go about my task adding no value to the world around me …
I have this whole sense of being no use to the world feeling. I know it will pass but it’s scary while it lasts. Everything from my job, to my writing, leaves me with a sense of vacuum.
Some days I am found brooding and asking myself, what is my purpose in this world?? (much to the chagrin of the better half, henceforth to be referred to as BH in this blog) I get no answers … and I don’t bother to ask BH the same for fear of that the already minuscule domestic duties he does, will be delegated to my fragile, overburdened shoulders.
My blog is now used synonymously with Rip van Winkle … remember none of his friends recognized him when he woke up from his deep slumber … my blog friends have mostly disappeared too …
However something has made me realize that there is no use wasting time brooding.. I need to get back to where the action is ..
There is a question that often plays at the back of my mind … does deep- mindspace need an image make over .. should I look beyond humor and satire? What do you guys think? Any suggestions??
I leave you with this wonderful poem by Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run –
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!