Status Quo

As I listen to High Hopes by Pink Floyd for the umpteenth time in my permanent “repeat” Winamp play-list, I realize that my life has also become the same. A repeating play-list of sorts. A constant state of deja-vu prevails, with each day so similar to the last one that the only thing that differentiates them is the date display on my watch.

The days, and even weeks are so similar and monotonous that an onlooker would be able to set his watch by my actions. Up early, leave for office at 0800, in punch at 0820, lunch at 1300, out punch at 1731, and back home. Stare at the computer monitor for a few hours, take dinner and bed. Rinse and repeat this every working day of the week. Then comes Sunday which goes flashing by at a hundred miles an hour. The only thing that changes with each passing week is the list of “to-do things” that grows longer and longer.

Things like rearranging the bookshelf to remove all the papers I dump there, properly file those and put them away at some safe place, rebuilding that old computer to working condition, completing the tag that some other blogger has tagged me with, finishing that videogame I have played till midway, hanging the world map that fell off the wall because of a broken string, going on that bike ride I have been thinking of for ages, starting photography as a hobby, recoding the blog template.....
The list goes on and on, always increasing in length. They say Sundays are for doing these of things. I say Sunday is for taking some rest because come Monday and it will be another long and tiring week at the office. The gloomy repeat play-list haunts me again with the same songs. Dad says I need to do some exercise to lift my spirits. I say I am tired enough already.

As the play-list takes me to Hurt by Johnny Cash, I realize that the purpose I started writing this post was not to rant about how there is an endless list of things to do, but to try and find an outlet for troubles and worries and fears and thoughts that have been burdening me as much as Atlas would be burdened if the planet he carried were Saturn or Jupiter. Turns out they are so deep rooted and I am so f***ing afraid that I won’t even be able to write them down on a private diary, let alone this blog that is theoretically accessible to billions. Turns out I am not strong enough to face them. Turns out they need to be kept buried in the folds of the grey matter filled inside my head. Turns out I need to stick to this monotony called life. Turns out that I need to live this gloomy deja-vu to the end of time.