how much of a compromise is too much?
how much can you let pass, before it crosses the limit?
where is the limit?
where does one stop and say enough?

how far are you willing to push yourself until you reach the end of your tether? when do second chances run out?

Without you!

What a fool i was, what a dominated fool,
to think you were the earth and the sky;
what a fool i was, what an animated fool,
what a mutt-headed dolt was i.
No my reverberating friend,
you are not the beginning and the end.

There'll be spring every year without you,
England still will be here without you,
there'll be fruit on the tree and a shore by the sea,
there'll be crumpets and tea without you!
Art and music will thrive without you,
somehow Keats will survive without you,
and there still will be rain on that plain down in Spain,
even that will remain without you!
I can do, without you!

You dear friend who talks so well,
you can go to Hartford, Hereford and Hampshire!
They can still rule the land without you,
Windsor castle will stand without you,
and without much ado, we can all muddle through, without you!

Without your pulling it, the tide comes in,
without your twirling it, the Earth can spin,
without your pushing them, the clouds go by,
if they can do without you Ducky, so can i!

I shall not feel alone without you,
I can stand on my own without you,
so go back in your shell, I can do bloody well
Without you!!

Home

You can search the world for happiness, but the one place that you can really call your own is where you began.

This is what i was told last night, albeit after he had had quite a few drinks, but it rang very true. Plus, the fact that it came from someone who had been away from the land of his birth for a long time, made me think about it a little more than i normally would. I used to think i was being silly because every time i thought of home or found myself saying that i wanted to go home, the first place that came to mind was the house i've grown up, the place i've spent the largest part of my life so far. But then home for me isnt just the four walls of the flat, its also the people who live within those four walls who make the house a home.

Staying away, for the first year, it was almost impossible to call the room i lived in, home. It was always "i'm going back to my room", never "i'm going home".
Towards the end of the first year here, i moved out of the room and into a house with people i knew and liked. Still, calling it "home" was difficult, though it did seem to grow on me and around the end of my time there, Venneit became almost home, a place i'd want to go to, at the end of the day (but still, not for good).
Year 3 and so began the era of Cunliffe. It began badly, with a lot of things going very wrong, so it was almost like i didnt want to live there at all. Venneit seemed like a happier and more comfortable place to live in and it was more home than the new place. Perhaps it was just me getting used to the new place and coming to terms with the unexpected upheaval, but with time, this too began to feel more warm and comfortable and the couch slowly took the shape i'd want it to have. But as all good things come to an end, so did the era of Cunliffe and i had to move, yet again. By now, the streets of the city, the trees and corners have become a part of life and it seems almost natural to be here, but again, there isnt a place here i can truly call home.Cunliffe, that was ours, was the place i'd really want to go after a horrible day and feel secure (as much as is possible here), suddenly ceased to exist. The house that we'd walk into without a second thought now belonged to someone else and didnt feel like ours at all! It was closure of the worst kind, and hell, it hurt.
Am back to living in a "room", but now, even the room doesnt feel like my own and in all honestly, i've been avoiding going back to it until the day is really over and there isnt much else to do except sleep.

Maybe home is where there is a familiar face that you can talk at (not always necessarily to), perhaps its a place you're used to and know where all the light switches are, maybe it is where you feel you've made your own niche, i still am looking for it here.

Another interesting point of view i heard was that home is where you find that someone special. Maybe thats why first Venneit and the Cunliffe became home or maybe it was i really liked the people i lived with and it was their friendship and the affection of that someone special that, put together, came close to being what home really feels like.

still, the search continues....

face your fears

This is one of the first times i've actually spoken out aloud about one of my biggest insecurities. i always knew it existed, but not actively thinking or talking about it, somehow made it easier to live with it, it was there, but not really there; and more often than not, it tended to fade into the background and wasnt a part of any conscious thought. But, suddenly (as most things tend to happen, nothing is ever preceded by a drum-roll, though that would make life a lot simpler, if you knew when to expect what...), in the middle of a completely arbit conversation, about someone else altogether, this is the first time it has made its presence felt, and felt how! Unthinking, unknowing, in the flow of the conversation (that i was dominating, as usual.. i need to start talking less, off late have ended up talking waaaay too much...) it just came out, out of nowhere, and i havent stopped thinking about it since.
They say, face your fears and they go away, talk about it and it feels better, hell no! Talking and thinking about it just makes it all much worse! "Ostrich-ing" (the latest verb we've coined for ignoring a problem and pretending it doesnt exist, until it actually goes away, ostrich style..) is probably the best way to deal with it. Ever since i decided to "talk" about it, practically every conscious decision is re-thought and related; and the justification (or more appropriately, the excuse) is that it is because of my "insecurity". And, now that she (with whom i was actually having is conversation, no, for once, wasnt talking to myself) knows, (she always knew, she said, but hadnt thought about it consciously, i mean why should she waste her time thinking about my insecurities, surely she has other more interesting things to do..), its even more awkward to think about it! Feels almost like i've been laid bare, exposed and vulnerable. She's someone i can trust completely, implicitly, with no questions, and probably isnt even thinking about it at all, but still.... coming to terms with the fact that she knows, and that i really know and have accepted that it is very much there, is pretty unnerving.
Now i guess the next step is to eliminate it altogether. A big part of facing your fears, they say, is that once you've accepted them, it is time to let them go and move on. Its probably ridiculous to still cling on to something that started out as a fascination and has now become a near-obsession and insecurity. Time to grow up!
Enough introspection methinks, time to think about something relevant and useful for once... why in the world arent my reactions working?!!

Finally!!!

Its an adaptation by Coelho,
" When you really want something to happen,
the whole universe conspires so that your wish comes true"

Whom would you do 'it' for....

"Do it for the one in the mirror"
Silly as it sounds, at some level it seems to make sense. One could say i'll do it cos thats what is expected by them (the omnipresent 'them', who seem to be the be all and end all of everything always..) or its what i really want, so am doing it for myself. Then of course, there's the "for parents, for friends, for the one important person, for this one and for that one."
But spare a thought for the one in the mirror? The one who shows you everything the way it is, the one truly honest face, irrespective of the situation, who'll look back at you and show you the thoughts, you'd much rather avoid. The one who mirrors how far you've actually gone, and yes it is you who is the one responsible, even when you'd be wont to believe that it is a day from someone else's life. When life seems surreal and things that happen arent those that would normally happen to you, the one face that can confidently erase any trace of doubt about the harsh reality of the situation, is the one that looks back at you from the mirror. The supposedly unreadable eyes that you'd like to call your own, stare back, mirroring the same thoughts, same emotions and somehow dont seem all that mysterious and secretive anymore. Wherever, whenever, whatever, it'll be there and it'll be brutally honest.
So how about, for once, do it, whatever "it" is, for the one in the mirror, for the one that'll be around and so that you can confidently lock gazes and say yes, i did it for you.

and so it begins...

They said i should write, said it helps relieve and relive.. here we are then, attempting to do just that. Now what remains to be seen is how long it actually lasts, hopefully this isnt it- the beginning and the end.