Monthly Archives: October 2013

Losing Our Way…

28 Monday Oct 2013

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We had lost out way. Amidst our work meetings, our diner dates with others, and different ports of destination, the two of us had lost our way.

While he fascinated over his hotel stays, new discovered lands, and I brooded over my books, research papers and hopped on planes for meetings we had lost the taste of communication. It had reduced to a “Good morning love!” or a “Good Night love!” with “having lunch” or “off to dinner” in between. The rest was a blur of people he and I met, with no names or no details.

My apologies came sooner, just to avoid a fight or a bad mood, and I have often wondered whether I always needed to type the first line of a conversation, or the numbers of his phone number to make conversation.

I sit. I type. I wonder.

Where had we lost the way? Was it just the distance, or were we too indifferent to bridge the distance?

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Slightly OCD and Living with Slobs?

18 Friday Oct 2013

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I have lived all my life with people who have not considered putting things around the house in order as one of their priorities. I have walked into finding piles of clothes on my studying table, things thrown around in the living room, all forms of equipment to be placed in the garage sale, placed in the middle of my house. I have parents who find any lame excuse to not tidy the place, keep the house filled with garbage which is 15 years old, and lived briefly with an x husband who would dumb chocolate wrapper, apple stems and what not that is not relevant right onto the floor.

So what’s my problem with all these?

Well I am OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) (a slight dose of it, which makes my blood boil every time I see a mess, and self-restraint needed not to strangle whoever responsible for it).

If you are OCD, then you would understand what I am talking of. I am not even sure whether in Sri Lanka people recognise what OCD is. Come to think of it,  one of my cousins has a very high dose of it, and people find it a little hilarious. And depressingly enough, no one seems to have realised that the guy goes bonkers when they mess his room, and not because he is a lunatic. Leave the man’s place be, and he would be a happy human being. But NO! They prefer to have some fun messing his little bottles and stuff, and then seeing him all pissed off about of it.

Today I watch Aiden dump his clothes around the room. I switch on my control mode so that I will not activate my OCD self, and endure in silence the mess that remains in front of my eyes. He seems oblivious to it, as I read my book in bed, and he rummages through the pile of clothes he has pulled out of the bag, and thrown on the floor in a mission to locate what he wants to wear on our date. I breath-in, and keep reading, while he goes around rummaging while humming.

People always wonder why growing up I always preferred to stay out of my house. Well now we know why. Simply because I chose to live with one moral when it came to my OCD provoking situations i.e  If you can’t clear up a mess, just keep away from it!

“I want to go to Syria!”

05 Saturday Oct 2013

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I open my twitter account to find the Syrian Black Hole. I dive into it, to read of those who have been detained, tortured, and then gone missing, never to be heard of, never to be seen by the loved ones, and just disappear without a trace.

One cannot help but wonder how humans are capable of inflicting all the torture that they do on other human beings, how they could watch the misery of another, and how they just derive a satisfaction out of it.

Humans are definitely a dangerous group of species…

The guy in the Copenhagen bar crosses my mind, drunk as hell, but still trying his best to have a conversation.

“I want to go to Syria, I want to go help its people” he says. He explains he is a physician.

That evening, I believed it was the alcohol talking.

Then again, who knows, maybe he really meant it.

The Fight

03 Thursday Oct 2013

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I missed him.

We never fought. But this time I think we had.  Over some man, who had nothing to do with our lives.  Completely irrelevant as the other man be, he had successfully opened a new door for us: A fight.  A passive one at that.

Then again, I am not even sure whether what we had constitutes a fight. We never got to shout at each other with our time zone differences getting the best of it, with me already asleep when he returned home. I had been too fast in typing out a whole paragraph over something he had not typed in, but more like wanted to type in, at least in my mind.

He had agreed, as usual,  to what I wanted, and texted “you’ve got yourself a deal!”

My brain started working only on reading it, “Is this what I wanted? What do I really want? I mean do I even want anything?”

I had already decided that the moment emotions started playing its part, I would most likely pack and leave, do something to piss him off, or just start dishing him with annoyance so that I could check his level of patience. So far no shouting.

I was confused. Once again, I was very confused.

I remember his parting words, “I will miss you. I know I do not tell it, but then you know me!”

“Do I really?”