The Bartender

I have this obsessive need to document my life from time to time. Sometimes it finds its way to my blog, at others it remains in the relative anonymity of my various diaries. Anyway, this brings me to this moment, Saturday, September 22, 2012. A friend of mine convinced me to go to some party for something, the details are a little fuzzy there. Well fuzzy in the face of what actually happened at the place. See now, I had fever that night, mild but enough to make me slightly cranky about a party, and enough to make me wanna say fuck it. I didn't. And thank the lord I didn't. We entered the place, and the first person I saw was the bartender (yes this note IS about him). You know, how in movies and TV shows you see these bartenders that every one talks to? Kinda like Ted Danson from Cheers? Well there was MY Ted Danson standing right in front of us. We sauntered up to the bar, and ordered our drinks, and there it was, that twinkle of mischief in naughty dark brown eyes. An open face, and a smile that was maybe otherworldly? Salt and Pepper hair, and I pegged him at someone closer to my father's age than mine.  My friend and I both agreed he was the hottest man we had ever seen. I for one couldn't take my eyes of this man, who had such an amazingly open face. A face that beckoned confidences, that literally willed you confess all your sins.

We moved off, sat down with our drinks, and eventually the party was in full swing. I lost track of how many times I volunteered to re-fill the drinks of my friends, just so that I could go up to the bar! Pathetic, I know, but such an irresistible person! When we stepped out for a smoke, I was looking in, when we were inside, I was looking THERE.. It was unbelievable how absolutely smitten I felt about this person. Forget the fact that he is drop dead gorgeous, there is something slightly feral about the way he surveyed the crowd, about the look he gave me, a few times. Animalistic vitality and a wild streak a mile long. He had the appearance of someone who has a devil-may-care attitude to match the feral look. Maybe it was the hair, the maturity, or maybe, just maybe it was the tiny sliver of vulnerability that I glimpsed just once in the night, whatever it was, I had found my cocaine.

Before I knew it, he was standing next to me, and just like that, we were talking like old friends. Investment banker, who had given up everything three years ago to travel the world, or at least, South America and Africa. In that moment, not only was I drawn to him, I was also unbelievably envious of this person. Here he was, standing next to me telling me about things I wanted to do. Sigh.. As if being good looking, dangerous, and charming wasn't enough, he HAD to have travelled to the EXACT places I wanted to go. We talk, it is a blur, I could only hear my heart pounding, and was only aware of his proximity. I don't think I can recall what we spoke about, even if I tried. I only remember, the warmth of his body next to mine, and the brush of his skin against mine when our arms touched. Sounds juvenile and all, but that was an electric touch. And before I could catch my breath, he was back at the bar.

More time flies, more drinks are downed, refilled, more inane conversation.. I touch the leather cuff on his wrist, "You know, this is very fifty shades" "Sweetheart, what you read is not a patch on what I know, have done" My breath catches in my throat. I look at him, he turns away to serve someone. And I think, there is no way I am ever forgetting that. And then it is time to leave, "I have to go" "Stay" He didn't need to repeat it. This man fascinated me, had my full attention. There was no way I could leave now, knowing I had the chance to see where this would go.

Last drinks are served, he is adept at this bar-tending business even if it isn't really his scene. I watch mesmerized, as this man charms everyone he talks to, men and women alike. We step into the theatre to watch the last trailer. He is standing next to me, his shoulder against mine, his hand on the small of my back. He leans in to say something, I don't hear it. I turn "If you want to say something say it to the other ear, I'm deaf in this one" and as I turn to present my other ear, "Who said I wanted to say  something?" And his lips are on mine. It is incredible that I could stand. His hand is on my arm, he leans in, deepens the kiss, and before I can react in a slightly embarrassing manner, he pulls away. A look passes between us, that I have never exchanged with anyone. "Lets get out soon as this is over" I had forgotten we were surrounded by thirty people.

We walk down the stairs, and we sit outside, and that is when the talking starts. He manages to get me to talk about things I never do. I don't even realize what I have told him, till I look at him, and I see in his eyes a vague reflection of what I was feeling.

I haven't been able to figure out what it was about this Bartender from HKV, but I was incredibly attracted to him. It was the attraction of moth to a fire, just before it bursts into flames. A dangerous man, he is. Maybe I should stay away, maybe I should take the plunge into the deep end. I don't really know. I have to figure it out. What I do know is that it's going to be one helluva ride, and if don't get my bearing right, it's gonna be crash and burn for me. After years I feel this way about someone. And I suppose I am right to hesitate. He will be the final undoing of who I am. And that is a feeling I have had in my gut since that first brush against my arm when my breath hitched in my throat.

Family

There are are days when I really, truly, hate my family. I once read somewhere that families are biological. A how true that is. No matter the person you are, no matter your temperament, no matter what, you can not chose the house you are born into. A few of us are lucky enough to have carved a place for ourselves in the lives of others, making a family of our own.
The rest of us are stuck with what we have. And it really frustrates and pisses me off to say, this, but my family is annoying. You know how you have friends/acquaintances who only call when they want/need something? I am related to people like that. Makes me wonder what exactly it is about the institution of family that is so worthy? If family and the rest of the world behave in the exact same way, where does the sense lie in exonerating family? What is so amazing about it? 

Zsa Zsa Zsu

As I sat there watching Sex and the City, I thought to myself, is this true? This zsa zsa zsu that Carrie was talking about? Possible?
That's when the phone rang, and there it was! The zsa zsa zsu! It's really incredible how your heart skips a beat and then runs into overdrive at the sight of a name on a call. You pick up the phone slowly, look at it ringing, and as you answer it, there are butterflies in your stomach.
I look at the phone ringing, and before I realize it I pick it up. And the sound of his voice makes me feel so jittery. After years, it still feels like I'm in high school talking to him. I love how he makes me feel so tiny and fragile! I think everyone at some point likes to be made to feel special. What is so amazing here is that I am not even that special for him (yet?) but I still feel like the most gifted retard in the house when he calls!
It is a long story that has gone on for years. A kind of mating dance, a ritual that I have now mastered simply because I have grown up with it! For years, I have danced on this tune where he is concerned, and it makes me wonder, what if? It makes me wonder what now.
I still love how tiny you make me feel, how special you make me feel, how absolutely beautiful you make me feel. And just for the sake of feeling like this, I am willing to dance this tune for the next decade. Yes, it might've been a decade since we started out, but it feels like it was just yesterday, the memories fresh in my mind, seeing you that first time at school, gangly and awkward. I thank the stars it was my class you were in, and not someone else's. I remember coming to school early just to see you play basket ball. I remember the long telephone conversations we used to have.. I remember getting back home from school and eagerly looking for an excuse just so that I could call you up!
And I remember not talking to you for twelve long years. Yes, danced to that tune as well. I remember that I remembered you all through the years. Its been a bumpy and thrilling ride, my dear. And I can't wait to go round the next turn.
This zsa zsa zsu has gone on for a very long time, and trust me it still feels amazing to be in love with you.

The Perfect Song

There are some songs that simply take your breath away. Even at 2 am on a Tuesday morning. Even when you think that good songs stopped existing. And then there it is. That one perfect song. A transporter of a song, that takes you back in time to an age you'd forgotten. A age of innocence. A song that makes you believe, that it is possible. That it is possible to believe again, to love again. A song that makes you want to be in love. A song that makes you believe in naivety. 

You sit there are 2 am, and listen and re-listen to that song. Wondering about the loss of innocence, the conversion to the jaded side of life. Wondering exactly when it was that you stopped believing. Wondering exactly what it was that you stopped believing in.

A Letter Never Posted

Hey You,

I have always been some one who might appear to be a pessimist on the outside, but is an optimist through and through. Hopelessly so even. And today I realized the folly of my beliefs. Apparently no matter how much good Karma you throw out at the world, somehow you get hit by the bad stuff as well. Ricochet from someone else's Karma perhaps? I don't know. All I know is that as I sat there listening to you talk about us, I realized, that there simply is no point in being optimistic.
I realized, that we started out on your terms, we were together on your terms and lo behold we ended on your terms. Where's the justice in that? Right, so you say you're stubborn, take the good stuff for granted, quick to point out what is wrong and all that. You also say you never walk away. Didn't you just do that? At the first sign of trouble, didn't you just throw your hands up and say "Ok, damn, I can't so this"? So what was that all about? You give your 100% to your friend, but the person who can make you feel more special that any friend anywhere, is not even given a chance?
For some reason I thought when it came to us, you'd at least give us a fighting chance, maybe because I foolishly hoped I meant something special to you. Is this how specialty is treated? I always thought, here is a man I can trust to have by my side. Here is someone who might be worth a fighting chance. I fought for you, every chance there was. And what do I get?
I can not begin to explain how much I wanted to be the one who could make you see. I saw through you. I knew you. I understood you. And I knew, I know that if you had just given us a chance, I would have made you see how much I get where you're coming from. How well I understood who you are. How much I could have made you believe that there is a way around everything, and that we could have had it all?
At this point all I can say is that it breaks my heart, not because we aren't together. It breaks my heart that you did not give us a chance to explore what could've been. I breaks my heart that I might never be able to make you see how wonderful it could've been. It breaks my heart that you walked away.

Love,
Me.

Break? Or Build?

Can I just say that it sucks? Yes it sucks to like someone and know that there is nothing you can do about it. I sucks so much that it becomes a chore to pretend you're normal and not busting inside. At times I wish it weren't so. Why can't life be simple instead? Is it too much to ask for?

You like someone, they like you back end of story. Why the drama and the heartache? Why have to go through the ritual dance, and end up standing alone on the dance floor? Like the little reject shit that no one would want to dance with.

Frustrating and annoying and pathetic it is. Because you know in your heart, that if this was your best friend, you'd be telling her to get the fuck over it and move on. And you know in your heart that you're THAT hypocritical. Dishing it is always so much easier than taking it. And at the end of the day, you know you got to stand alone. But you still want a partner on that bloody dance floor.

It reminds me of something I read today that Tupac said, yes, TUPAC:

You can spend minutes, hours days, weeks or even months over analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened ...
Or you can just leave the the pieces on the floor, and move the fuck on.

Procrastination and Stagnation

Some times I feel like I have Asperger's Syndrome, or maybe I'm just a dissociative personality. I don't know. Ever get that feeling of standing on the outside and watching life pass you by? I get that several times a day. Makes me wonder about how normal "normal" really is, or actually, how crazy "normal" really is. It's strange to feel like this. Almost as if you're in a surreal existence, a parallel kind of place. I look around me and see people succeeding, people doing better than me at what I'm doing, and it makes me wonder where I'm going wrong?

Maybe I'm just a big procrastinator and no procrastinator ever reached the top of that ladder. It's like in the book, The folk of the Faraway Tree, when Connie gets stuck on the never ending ladder. Life's kinda like that, a never ending ladder. You stop because you realize its never ending. Oh wait, life does end, but your legacy never does, does it? That is exactly the point, the legacy you leave behind is what makes you continue on the never ending ladder. So basically those who stopped are those who leave behind nothing. Their life literally comes to a halt.

I am beginning to think maybe I'm kidding myself when I say I want to succeed. When push comes to shove, I am after all mediocre. Nothing spectacular or amazing. But, and that is a big but, does it really have to be like that for me? For anyone?

I met someone today that I hadn't seen for eight years. Meeting them made me actually realize, and sit and think and analyze, where am I going? He seemed to have changed a lot over the years. And he told me I hadn't changed at all. Is that supposed to be a compliment? I suppose if he was talking about looks, it is, female vanity being what it is. But in every other sense isn't being told you haven't changed amongst the biggest insult? It's like being compared to stagnant water. Dull, still and useless, actually not really useless as much as dangerous, in that it helps breed mosquitoes.

I suppose being told you look so different and that you've changed is the biggest compliment one can receive. It signifies dynamism and volatility, two traits I'd love to claim.

Voices

The voices, make them go away.
The shouting, the screaming,
The crying, the begging.

Do you think you can make it go away?
23 years of voices in my head,
Can you banish them?
Will you kill them?
Can you make them just go away?

Did I try you ask?
I turned a deaf ear,
I turned my head away,
I even tried to look the other way.

It doesn't help at all.
It makes even less sense than most.
The voices will stay
I can't make them go away.

Help me... Please take me away.

Sunday

Its KFC Day! Yaay!

Ever since my father re-married, his dinner on sunday has been at his in-laws home. And since I shifted back to Delhi, My grandma and i have been having KFC meals on Sunday! And it's Sunday today! :)

Got to Let Go

Somethings in life, you just got to let go. You can't go through life holding a grudge against your kindergarten enemy, can you? You can't go through life holding a grudge against your middle school class mate, now can you? Forgive and forget. Everyone preaches it, few practice it, almost no one understands it. We often forget thinking we've forgiven. Big difference there, my friend. There is a reason frenemies exist. Well, frenemy isn't exactly a word, but I like to borrow from Sex and The City on occasion.
However, the big question here isn't that can you let go of what others have done onto you, but the question that goes round and round in my head, is that, can you let go of what you have done onto others? Can you let go of what you have done onto yourself? Yes yes I can see it sounds a bit heavy and philosophical etc.. But it's true. And I have only recently begun to understand this concept called forgiveness. How can you possibly forgive anyone at all, if you don't understand the concept, and for that matter, if you can't forgive yourself?
Not too sound too philosophical, but there are things you just have to let go off. Let. Go. Off. It is not easy and it definitely isn't something that has a switch you can just flick on. It is a slow process, and can take years. The trick here is not to let it get to you, or go round and round like a spinning theme park ride in your head. That, my dear, takes a whole lot of practice, and a certain ability to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to the voices and people in your head.
Luckily for me, I am deaf! Not blind however, but that will happen as well. Runs in the family! See, wasn't that hard to find that silver lining was it?