Books and Me...

Reading and books is essentially what I am and what my life is about. Everything else is secondary. What makes up my thoughts, where I find solace, what my dreams are made of are all in the books I have read.

But now I don’t read as much as I used to. The reason is not that I am busy or don’t have time or have better things to do. Its way more fundamental than that. Every book I read becomes in some way a part of me. I think about it. It forces me to reflect. It’s almost like a living organism that morphs my thoughts such that they take a new shape and structure. All this most of the time causes a lot of dissonance and angst. After all I am not living the life I would ideally live; it’s not even close to what best I can be.

So the pile of unread books is growing in my shelf day after day. These days I am terrified of picking up a new book. I who was as impulsive as one can be, not afraid of change, not afraid of doing what I want to do has turned into this terrified, cornered individual finding safe haven in old and experienced much like my reading.

Is this what they call growing up…

Movies

http://manymorewoods.blogspot.com/2010/06/thirakkatha-screenplay.html

Strangely upset...

Sometimes life merely reduces to here and now...and at that instant no matter what you have, its not enough...i am unnecessarily very upset.