One gets bored of everything eventually, and I can't decide if it is a blessing or a curse. At least something keeps the ball rolling, I guess.
I am amazed at all the wisdom penned down by my younger self. If only I would listen to myself, at times! Still it serves as a good sampling strategy-much better than never recording anything down. Hard to reconstruct your previous self.
A patently narcissistic thing to say, but I had been trying to get my life on track, whence arose a virus.
Very well. I graciously back down, hanker in my room, and choose not to whine. I mean whining takes too much energy and drive at my ancient age.
Instead, I will stay glued to the said room, watching screens and eating stolen crisps.
Live and learn, some say.
Apparently I am somewhat good at looking miserable. I mean all you have to do is rearrange some facial muscles and open your eyes wide and pose a wilting demeanor to the other person. Of course a few broken words, outlining the misery that is your life, add to the personality. Adjusting the tone of your voice helps too. This happens to be the most effective way of receiving sweet/salty delights that originally belong to your siblings, in the lockdown days.
Misery sells, I am telling you. I simply have to try this in other domains of life.
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