Am I doomed?

Or is this life?

But what is it if it doesn’t make us feel good? Do we still hang in there? Do we still hope for things to change? Do we still keep believing what was once broken can be mended to its original? Or is it okay to have the scars as long as it gets back in shape?

But again what if we don’t give a chance? Will we regret it? Or will we not? How do we know if it’s worth a chance? Why is trusting people so easy yet so hard?

I don’t know where I’m headed? Why can’t I figure out my life? Why can’t I be sure of what I want in life? Why does growing up have to be so hard for me? Why does my heart have to ache? Why do I have to get attached so soon? Why oh why?

Of all the questions tumbling down my head, I have answer for just one, an answer which sounds rather confusing than the question in itself: Why am I so confused? Because I cannot foresee things. I cannot say if the decision I make today is good or bad for me. I live in the moment. I do things that please me at this juncture. I’m not far sighted. And I’m super superstitious. One reason I’m skeptical about seeing astrologers, What if he asks me to leave certain things I love?

Time has given me experiences and taught me lessons and made me braver. Last year was one hell of a long long year. Too many first-times, I felt like I lived a decade in a year and wrinkled (Just kidding, no wrinkles visible yet *wink wink*). Anyway, people who I thought would always be with me didn’t make it through. Some aren’t even important to me anymore. Some other people took their place. And maybe they will be replaced too someday. But meanwhile, I learned to be independent, not only because it hurts when you get a ‘no’ for an answer but also because it feels great to do things on your own and even better when you accomplish them.

I believe there is god. Not the philosophical within-us-god. But a god who is invisible to us, but is always there to guide us, an invisible something who only want the good for us. I have relied on my mother for every little decision making till now. I started believing more in moms-make-the-best-decision after an incident at college. 

When I was in first year, I had gone out to the hostel courtyard to get a practical paper from a friend. The night had fallen. There was a little drizzle. As I was returning, the lights went out, scared of the dark I ran back not realizing there were glass cylinders on the way. Which I later learned were kept by the final years to measure the rainfall as a part of their Project Work. Well, I bumped in to one of them and it shattered into pieces, the sound of which echoed from the walls of the adjacent hostel building. It was just over a month that I had joined college, so seniors were still dreaded by us. On reaching my room, I phoned my mommy and told her what had happened. I also told her I wanted to keep it to myself, that no body saw me so nobody would know. But she said, I should confess about it to my counsellor, apologize and pay for the broken cylinder. With heart in my mouth, I knocked on her door and with a sorry face spoke out exactly what I had rehearsed with my mom. The counsellor was very kind, she didn’t scold me nor did she make me pay for the cylinder. 

Now when it’s reiterating the story, it is silly but it was a terrifying one then. From that day on, my mom be my decision maker, even when it was related to assignments and subjects I was studying. She had no idea of some of the decisions I made her make. When it was really tough, I used to ask her to just pick one. And call it luck but her decisions always favored me. Maybe she is my god in disguise.

But now there are decisions just I should make. Maybe I should make her pick A or B. But maybe there is no A and B, maybe I should formulate that first. It is going to cost me if she picks wrong though. Haha.

Bleh! Forget it. What is bound to happen will happen.

Half of me says: Life goes on, Confused or not we end up in the same grave. The other half says: It is not just where we end up after dead; it is about how we are living while we are doing that. 

This confused mind.

How rude can people be?

How rude can people be?

Why are some people so rude? Why can’t they be polite? Does it cost them anything to be polite? Why can’t they talk back to us the way we talk to them? Why be so rude? (Now read it again, almost screaming!)

Well I know this is nothing compared to how people are suffering across the world, how they have nothing to eat or wear, how some get exploited, how many put up with racial torments, how some are sick and in pain, how the terrorist attacks kill thousands of innocents and how the terrorist’s family get the government or whosoever’s fury in the name of revenge. I’m very much aware there is greater insolence happening around, I feel small and guilty and I feel like I’m complaining for such a small issue, but right now all I can do is care for this little heart which has literally drowned in this huge emotional catastrophe.

While I have encountered impoliteness all along my career path (also the time I realized how much growing up sucks) and I have endured them, though not boldly but I did walk out of them, and walked out clean. This one is regarding an encounter with the Thimphu City Lag Thram Distributing Officer, I don’t know if this is her actual designation but she was an officer distributing Lag Thrams and working for the Thimphu city, so.

So today, I was calling her up just to enquire on an official work, and her speech had me awestruck in a bad goddamned way. Why be so rude? And hang up? As far as I’m aware I was polite and not irrational because I had just uttered half a sentence. So I’m pretty sure I did not annoy her. Her rudeness literally murdered my spirit for today. How can she talk so rude to people she doesn’t even know? And this is official okay? I wasn’t begging her any favors. Why did she act like she feed and clothe me, so I owe her a big deal?

And since I have already started, let me also add this one here so that I don’t have to be cranky about this in another article. It was last month on the 17^th when I finally got to appear for the driving test. And well I was driving a Xcent, because I was confident driving it since I had practiced the box with it. I was third in the endless queue, and already anxious and shivering. Like anyone else I didn’t like failing, I had to get through this one by all means because my Learner’s License was already 3 years old+ and I, 25+, so I needed at least a driving license if not anything else. Besides how long could I be a fraud driving with my sister’s license? While I was fighting my fears, this ugly RSTA official (ugly because he was rude) calls out to me saying “Are you going to appear the test with this car? Don’t even attempt, you are FAILING!” Yes, these were his actual words. I was already panicky, I didn’t need any negative vibes. So I confronted him for his filthy words to which he said he only meant good for me. Well Mister there is a good way of saying the car is quite big for the test, right? Why be so rude?

Later a fight broke out between the ugly guy and another test-taker, so you see it wasn’t just me who found the ugly guy ugly. Anyway, I passed the test.

After all these years I have realized being the victim of rudeness isn’t my fault, I’m pretty adorable so little can I do to annoy someone. Haha. Jokes, Jokes.  I understand people aren’t rude because I say something unpleasant to them. They are just rude. They are sick. Born that way, something like that. People who have the audacity to be rude pollute the good population and bring down the name of the organization they are working for.

Not much of an issue, I know. But my heart ached, okay? So there, I spoke my heart out.

Good day!