This should have ideally ended up being a fun-fun-fun filled super excited post on my recent trip to the paradise island of Ischia, off the coast of Naples.
Well.. so to speak, I did have loads of fun (considering I went all on my own). Met up with an old friend for the best pizza in town, made a wagon-load of new friends at the youth hostel I stayed, got pampered by a throughly gentlemanly doctor, swum in the wide-open sea and got tanned (yes, tanned. Is it that hard to believe?)
Diving back into work the next working day, it almost seemed like I had never taken a break at all. The same deadlines stared back at me (and here I was, trying so hard to run and hide away in a remote island, away from its piercing eyes.. whatever was I thinking!); the same problems, the same goof-ups, the same disappointments.
But hey! Who wants to be called whiny-pants!.. Not me, for sure (atleast, Im trying!) So up get pulled my socks, on goes the scuba mask and my folder of accumulated papers! – Here I come!
All this, and I know exactly where I am going to stand at the end of the week – out of breath, with socks limply hanging around my ankles, the mask dangling from my ears and me more confused than I was before beginning to read the damned papers on cortical electrophysiology.
Point to be noted – I am not whining. I am only predicting.
Anyway.. its been sometime since I caught up on my usual blog-hopping haunts. This time around, I perused through a lot of writing that I had never caught up with for a long time. Good writing. The kind I almost wish I had the time to do. Made me feel great reading them, also made me feel impotent. Like I could definetly write like that, but I just underperform, justify it and thus, undervalue myself and well.. don’t write!
This feeling of impotency, ofcourse, has led me to atleast promise myself that I will try and write more frequently.
I promised all my close folks that I would try to send them a postcard from the island heaven. Unfortunately (also coupled with my innate laziness), eventhough I found the sidewalk shops littered with postcards, I couldnt find a single post office around the vicinity. Thus, I plan to get back to writing nice, long physical letters with a ink pen to people who matter to me the most – almost as a sort of catharsis.
Its 12.20am and my pillow beckons.
Maybe I should write my posts, like this. Late at night, after a hot shower and half a bottle of cold water. Things seems cleaner.