Life is Elsewhere
Ennui: Listlessness and dissatisfaction resulting from lack of interest; boredom
There is something to be said about getting everything.
{Dear god, putting aside the ingratitude that may seem to be reeking from the proceeding text, please bear the ramblings of this 20-something (if I were a man—prick) and put it down to… say… PMS. Also please ignore the multi-purpose ‘P’ in this particular regard. In toto please turn a deaf ear to this blog.}
Yes, Ennui: listlessness and dissatisfaction resulting from lack of interest; boredom.
To recall: Spent the morning listening to a chef called Martin Sperber from Stuttgart Germany who had a jollier time talking about his ‘antics’ in London from the hey days than the new ‘fusion menu’ on the cards for implementation at the four-star hotel chain. Not to mention that he looked like a rib-eye steak on legs (not that I am judging) and had nothing profound what-so-ever to add to my life……of course other than the fact that I’ll have some change jingling in me purse by the end of the month.
I coined a word for my particular job at present.
Job description: Words Pimp.
Putting aside the reason why I am doing this—there is no market here for individual and enterprising work. Of course ‘here’ remains the vast ‘unknown’. I sell words like the proverbial prostitute, to the highest bidder walking the street (In this case the ofice). Worst of all, I have become pretty good at it, where often while turning out the tried and tested wares for different customers, I myself am tempted at my own words. What a delusional spell we writers cast, often tangling ourselves into the weave.
On a change of subject, I travelled recently and spent time with family amidst great weather. And since the time was truly beautiful, I will not tarnish it with paltry words. (Especially since I just said I sell them too cheap)
On another change of subject, a friend weds soon (Inshallah) bring to a close the original single status of the trinity. Now we all three have a trinity of other halves. Strange how time passes, and while there is infinite happiness, there is that strange melancholy marking the end of another era. (Who says we die only once? Every moment passed is a death to something).
But please, we will not regress into philosophising.
Where did I start from? Ennui. I think I am ready to move on. One way or the other. Picking up the last thought: It is time for this era in my personal life to die and for a new chapter to begin. I mean enough already! I think, that way the move will be good. New place, new issues. Keep on your toes. New blood. Ho Yah!
Would love for there to be some vertical movement in the career department as well. Broadcasting? Print? At least there is diversity, choice.
Just a question for the Great Abyss: when did we become so placid? So comfortable in the given set of equations? Where did the individual, personal dreams for the stars fade out to? Why have we settled for a strange complacency that lends no solitude even when we fool ourselves into believing that that was/is the best solution.
Why do you make us dream lord, and then not give us Harvard?
Now that I have lamented at Cosmos collusions with Fate, I must away. Martin Sperbers uninteresting life needs to be sold to gullible readers.
There is something to be said about getting everything.
{Dear god, putting aside the ingratitude that may seem to be reeking from the proceeding text, please bear the ramblings of this 20-something (if I were a man—prick) and put it down to… say… PMS. Also please ignore the multi-purpose ‘P’ in this particular regard. In toto please turn a deaf ear to this blog.}
Yes, Ennui: listlessness and dissatisfaction resulting from lack of interest; boredom.
To recall: Spent the morning listening to a chef called Martin Sperber from Stuttgart Germany who had a jollier time talking about his ‘antics’ in London from the hey days than the new ‘fusion menu’ on the cards for implementation at the four-star hotel chain. Not to mention that he looked like a rib-eye steak on legs (not that I am judging) and had nothing profound what-so-ever to add to my life……of course other than the fact that I’ll have some change jingling in me purse by the end of the month.
I coined a word for my particular job at present.
Job description: Words Pimp.
Putting aside the reason why I am doing this—there is no market here for individual and enterprising work. Of course ‘here’ remains the vast ‘unknown’. I sell words like the proverbial prostitute, to the highest bidder walking the street (In this case the ofice). Worst of all, I have become pretty good at it, where often while turning out the tried and tested wares for different customers, I myself am tempted at my own words. What a delusional spell we writers cast, often tangling ourselves into the weave.
On a change of subject, I travelled recently and spent time with family amidst great weather. And since the time was truly beautiful, I will not tarnish it with paltry words. (Especially since I just said I sell them too cheap)
On another change of subject, a friend weds soon (Inshallah) bring to a close the original single status of the trinity. Now we all three have a trinity of other halves. Strange how time passes, and while there is infinite happiness, there is that strange melancholy marking the end of another era. (Who says we die only once? Every moment passed is a death to something).
But please, we will not regress into philosophising.
Where did I start from? Ennui. I think I am ready to move on. One way or the other. Picking up the last thought: It is time for this era in my personal life to die and for a new chapter to begin. I mean enough already! I think, that way the move will be good. New place, new issues. Keep on your toes. New blood. Ho Yah!
Would love for there to be some vertical movement in the career department as well. Broadcasting? Print? At least there is diversity, choice.
Just a question for the Great Abyss: when did we become so placid? So comfortable in the given set of equations? Where did the individual, personal dreams for the stars fade out to? Why have we settled for a strange complacency that lends no solitude even when we fool ourselves into believing that that was/is the best solution.
Why do you make us dream lord, and then not give us Harvard?
Now that I have lamented at Cosmos collusions with Fate, I must away. Martin Sperbers uninteresting life needs to be sold to gullible readers.
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