Annus Futurus

The nicest thing about Monday is that it eventually comes to an end. Today, however, the same is true about 2012. It's getting over as well and one can feel it pass by. A few more hours and we'll be having 2013 on the masthead. Remarkable, isn't it? Our species has made it so far, leaving the history behind. The past means a lot to us but we seldom let it supersede the present. This particular year did something similar to my curious case of inertia. I experienced a lot of new things while achieving a bit of this and that. Being an entertainment journo facilitated most of them. 

• For beginners, I graduated. Finally. At the age of 26. In BA (English Literature) though I'm still wholeheartedly committed to the noble cause of grammatical errors. Might do my Masters someday and then vie for PhD later. Hopefully, that is. What's the harm in dreaming? Didn't I once dream of becoming an innovative electronics engineer? 
• I turned vegetarian and learned that it doesn't make an iota of difference to your soul. On the contrary, it made me aware of all the horror vegetables go through because of us. Ergo, I've effectively given up vegetarianism now. Food is meant to keep us alive and we are meant to kill it.
• Prophet once said that travelling teaches us more than the books. So I did what was needed to be done. My dream destination has been Pakistan for a while now and I tried to sneak in through a Islambad-based youth conference. Unfortunately, I couldn't make it. As a consolation, I visited Wagah border and witnessed the pleasant height of jingoism. Too close yet so far. Next year, it would be Jinnah's Disneyland. No matter what!
• Getting inked has been at the top of my priorities for years now. I got. At last. Two tattoos on each sleeves. One dedicated to Tibet and the other to my parents. They weren't impressed by either (as if I was expecting them to be). I'm certainly not stopping at two. There are few more to come and stay in the name of body art.  
• Learned how to spell the F-word correctly on social media. Pallav from Twitter helped a lot in this direction. I still maintain zero-contact on timeline and deserve all the fuck-yous from tweeps who assume I must be a full-time snob. Plus, i reduced tweeting to as much as possible.      
• Interviewed some impressive personalities like Binayak Sen, Lucky Ali, Shashi Tharoor, Bhanu Athaiya, Anand Gandhi, Kareena Kapoor, Ronaldinho, Salim Khan, Mira Nair, Aakar Patel, Daniel Craig, Gautam Navlakha, Jahnu Baruah, Adil Hussain, Pankaj Mishra, Rani Mukerji and Amish Tripathi. 
• Watched a lot of brilliant movies—in theatres for a change. Not that I stopped downloading but still watching gems on big screen is something else. Being used to 19-inch monitor screen had limited my sense of perception. I kind of rediscovered its potential somewhere in the darkness of a cinema hall. 
• Started the year with cycling (thanks to a friend) and ended it with jogging (thanks to a friend). Apparently my erstwhile six-pack abs miss me and vice versa.

There are many more stuff worth mentioning here but I don't remember them. I'm trying my level best but I can't. I guess I don't want to embarrass myself anymore. Besides, I'm growing old(er) at a worrisome rate. Being single for way too long often does that to people like me. Life is worthless anyway. Lastly, whoever is reading this tripe, I hope you quit next year. If not, at least overlook my narcissistic conclusions. May y'all reach such heights of success that vertigo becomes your nemesis. Best of all. Also, I secretly love you.

Changing years, Unchanging life

Neglect this part: For the past few days, I’ve been encountering queries like “Any plan for New Year?” and “Will you be spending New Year’s night at home again?”. The ones asking me the former question don’t know me and the ones asking the latter wish they were asking the former. Na, I'm not blaming them. They are genuinely nice people but victims of curiosity. My boringness is beyond me for a reason. Even snails are more interesting. Most of my jokes prefer not to be laughed at. In the course of human evolution, I’m a f—ing downhill. Sometimes I ask myself why am I not a chimp yet. But then chimps aren't supposed to suffer from identity crisis. For reality's sake, humankind is way too sophisticated and directional. But then there are always aberrations and exceptions and vocabulary to lean back on. So I console my bruised ego with asthmatic arguments and breathe deeply. It beats me how it works every single time. If it hadn’t, I’d have killed myself by hanging on a noose made of noodles. The worst part is I’m not even depressed and am a thorough teetotaler. The only thing I’m addicted to is cinema. Earlier I was mistaken about an apparent addiction to social media. Turns out it was just a temporary delusion. I scribble so-called funny one-liners daily masquerading as philosourphy. Luckily, I fail to laugh at them. Unluckily, some poor kind-hearted souls do. At least that’s what their comments imply. I don’t reply. I stopped communicating via tweets long time back. I’m quite grown-up for that nonsense now – making fake conversations with imaginary friends while overlooking calls from the real world ones. By the way, this doesn’t mean that my friends and I are on winning terms. Speaking of age, I’m 25 now and the year we are going to step into will try its best to make it 26. I’m prepared as I’m not ready to die as of now. I haven’t accomplished anything, you see, except few sweet words every now and then. I haven’t done well on the financial side too. The friends I grew up with have. I don't even have a girlfriend. The friends I grew up with do. Presently, they must be busy enjoying some parties somewhere. A few of them want me to be there with them although they understand that I don’t enjoy people’s company. I like individuals. I’m not adept at presenting myself as a people’s guy either. Pretending is an art and I can't pretend to be an artist. I hope all of them have a memorable night. (On a second thought, considering the alcohol they’ll be ingesting, I hope they don’t.) Coming back to me, I’m better off in my own company watching movies the popcorn-hogging people usually don’t bother with, posting meaningless blogs and creating sense out of absolute rubbish. It’s a less than pathetic existence but still fulfilling in its own precarious way. All I’ve got to do is remind myself that I’m supposed to be glum and smug and sad and fallow. And like I mentioned earlier, it works every single time.

Don't neglect this part: Happy New Year for bearing with me through factual fiction and wasting your not-so-precious time on this page! May 2012 make y’all forget what you always wanted to be.