Thursday, December 29, 2016

Romantic Psychosis

As I am getting older, I am constantly introspecting and accepting the result of my introspection that I am terribly out of touch with reality and extremely ill equipped to deal with the real world. Everything is quotes, and books and movies and romantic notions. I keep trying to protect my self-projections onto the world by peppering them with a healthy dose of cynicism and extreme defensiveness. However, I cannot escape the truth that I believe to be true. Not only do I think I am superbly ill equipped to function as an adult in any sense of the requirements the label comes attached with, but also that my very thought process is completely askew and hypocritical.

I am doing my end of the year routine these days, where I watch old romantic movies I have seen several times (possibly because I am trying to shield myself from the movement of Time by reliving and remembering). I just finished watching You've got Mail, which is one of my favourite movies. Even as I get all glowy and happy  when Hanks finally reveals himself to be Ny152, the cynical defense mechanisms were continuously asking how wrong this interaction would have been, were it to play out in real life.  Talking to a strange 'person' on the internet and allowing yourself to fall in love with that person to an extent that your life hinges on reciprocation. Even if we ignore the real dangers of catfishing and the other dangers of cyber anonymity, how could a grown woman actually fall for the trappings of emotions and all the other romantic crap ? It is completely idiotic and asinine. Yet, I have often watched the movie and in all my wisdom I continue to like it and believe the romance.

When I think back to the one real sort of romantic interaction I have had in my life, I am amused to remember how vehemently I refused to accept that any display of emotion could actually be true or meaningful. I was constantly aware of how nothing lasts and everything changes.  The impetuosity of my teenage years has finally caught up with me now, where it may play out in the comfort of my own mind and film preferences. It is easier and safer of course.

The year is changing yet again, and again I cannot remember exactly what of value I did this year. I completed another degree, but it all seems a farce and if you asked me to tabulate the number of days I sat down and put in hard work, I don't think I could even say that I worked for 60 days in the entire year. I must have though, I did write a dissertation. But it hasn't registered and today I feel I have let more time slip by.

Here's hoping that the corporate mentality of efficiency may plague me this year and I feel next December that I have done more. Here's hoping for the dimming of rose tints. For I don't have Miss MariAnne's tempestuous scale of feeling and neither have I gained the efficiency and practicality of Mr Forsyte. I hope to God that I am able to emulate this next year the 'baniya way of life' as my friend Rohit calls it.

Happy New Year internet. Hope it was more fruitful for you than it was for me.