There are times in your life when you are it. This it, mostly believed to be a phase, often tends to stick along longer than a normal phase would; like maybe a moon cycle or a temporary phase of pseudo-depression. Trust me, this goes a lot farther. A real lot.
Before you come to the conclusion that I have flipped my lid or gone cuckoo in the head, let me tell you a bit more, a bit more about it. The feeling probably comes closest to a feeling that was described around the 15th century as melancholy, but not quite . When you are overpowered by melancholy, you are sad, you are slumped; you are right off the rack. Not when you are inflicted with it. Stephen King immortalized the word by creating the perfect piece of fear in the form of one’s darkest nightmare, in a novel of the same name. You use it when you don’t have a gender for the object, or want to give a more objective view of the given situation. How do you find out that you are being bothered by it? Let me give you some indicators.
I am being bothered by it for a while now. I can comfortably blame my ‘not writing’ on this simple comprehensible two-letter piece of English Language symphony. The strangest and probably the scariest part is that it doesn’t make you realize that you are inflicted in any way. It just draws you away, from work, from pastimes, from anything that previously occupied your current train of thought. What it puts in place is, something, which you would not have possibly expected to be there. Take me for example (considering that we don’t have any volunteers here). I have always loved writing and was almost on the verge of shutting off this blog. Not because I got bored. Not because I have a block. Not because I wanted to give up writing. Not because I hate hip-hop. Not because of any reason that I could think up of in my rather infertile imagination.
Rather because, it struck.
I have switched to watching movies. I have seen close to ten flicks in the past week alone. I watch a movie everyday. I have been seeing movies ranging from Trainspotting to Madagascar 2 to Wall E to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I saw trash when I saw Burn After Reading. I watched three plays, one of them presented by a company called the Mad Cow Company. I don’t know what I am upto.
Maybe I should get back to horror. Maybe I should pick up something different. Maybe I shouldn’t pick my teeth. Pick up the broken China pieces of my strange life and glue them back. Maybe…
Maybe ask it…
[P.S.- a little cuckoo I know; but I shall return in all splendor...shortly.]