Filmolia

Lately I've had that much more extra time as naturally comes with the holidays. For some reason, I've found it impossible to find joy in using the time to finally watch movies - watch the movies I hadn't had time for before - preferring instead to choose reading over movie-watching. Other than the fact that I have always been a book over movies or television person, there hasn't seemed to be anything movie-wise that I've been excited to watch. And that's weird, because when I had no time or opportunity to watch anything, I had wanted to. Remember my preview posts regarding movies I wanted to watch such as Besharam and Lootera? I have the time now, but do I want to watch these movies? No.

I don't know what it is. Maybe it's that effect of novelty, in part; you know what I'm talking about, but to specify: that phenomenon of wanting something more because we can't have it. Ah, that.

I also have this problem with seeing a movie long after the initial thrill that comes with first exposure fades away. This is what is happening to me now with regards to watching Ram Leela. I wanted to see it for a very long time, since 1. it's a SLB film, and I am a SLB film fan. and 2. it stars Deepika Padukone, and I am a reborn and finally out of the closet Deepika fan. (NB. By 'out of closet' I DO not mean I habour anything more than celebrity-fan admiration for the actor.)...but now that it's been out on the airwaves for quite a while and it's not news anymore, I don't feel so inclined to watch it. Meh.


Admittedly, I do still want to because it stars Deepika. I recently revisited one of my absolute favourite hindi films, Break ke Baad, which stars another of my favourite actors, Imran Khan. If you already do not know this, I have had a history of fangirling pretty hard for both Imran Khan and Ranbir Kapoor. My fangirling the former, however, died away with the grudging yet inevitable admittance that his acting could be improved up, and that he couldn't dance to save his life (a fact, however, adorably made up for by his own witty assertion of this fact).

But back to Break Ke Baad - I could go on and on about this movie, and you would not understand why since all the reasons why I love it so much are very personal reasons, along the lines of relating quite quite a lot. My inner-self squealed with joy and grinned happily all throughout my rewatching of the movie. Fix thy eyebrows, and don't consider me weird, please. Well, you can, 'cause I am... but still.

But there I was, lying awake in bed, though thoroughly tired, since it was the wee hours of night, and I was smiling to myself, inside. I sighed with contentment and satisfaction, flush with loads of memories and all that good stuff. And I thought to myself: I need to watch more of these favourite films; which other ones do I love as much as this?; Jaane Tu Ya....Anjaana Anjaani,.......even my very first favourite, Hum Tum.

Then another thought occurred to me. What if this is what it meant to grow older? Older yet carried forward by time to another place where everything else externally has changed? Music, media, movies, actors, storylines, themes. More concerning, would I become one of the (gasp) Old Generation that was stuck in an older era clutching what would be then considered oldies to my bosom, refusing to get with the times?

It boggled my mind. I considered, absently, why exactly I like the movies I do. Was it because these people channelled the inner me? Obviously the biggest factor was that I related hugely to what I was seeing on-screen. Boy and girl are best friends, girl falls for boy, boy doesn't realize, heartbreak, thunder, lightning, dancey dancey,  fight fight, love love, blah blah. Woopsidoo. Ok, obviously I'm a big fan of happy endings and romance and all, yet cannot bring myself to be all mushy about it while describing it. It's one of those things that should be kept for private moments in my opinion. Blehh. So anyways, as I was saying, yes I was all for romance and stuff, but the movies that REALLY made me swoon figuratively were those which were get-with-the-times, modern, practical and feasible. Ok. I'm not really explaining this to my liking, but whatever.

So these movies. They all seem to have this one thing in common: the younger gen of actors, i.e. my age group. Imran Khan, Ranbir Kapoor, Deepika Padukone, Sonam Kapoor...

Then I asked myself: am I less inclined to watch movies now because they are not casting these favourite actors in these movies? And if so, does this mean that when they have become old and antiquated spectres of the camera, and are playing mothers and fathers and uncles and aunts, I will turn to my old and antiquated copies of movies capturing their flush of youth era, and refuse to really like anything that belongs to the newer generation? I hope not. I don't want to be one of those oldies who do that, I always feel I'm perpetually young.

But then I look at SRK and think, how the hell did I ever fangirl him in the first place? Then I look at the next hottie of the times, and think, holy moly Varun could be my younger brother.

Damn.

Just For You (grin)

Tree

'I don't know what's happening to me, I have lost all my words.'

She just looked at me silently. I knew she knew what I was saying.

'It's almost as if, what I most enjoyed doing isn't something I really enjoy anymore. Despite that realization, though, I really want to.'

She looked at the sky. She sighed.

'I want to write. But it is rather like, writing doesn't want to be bothered anymore. Even if I want to bother it, it's resisting. I can feel it, or rather hear it, telling me to go away. It's sending out vibrations at me, telepathically telling me to get lost. I'm not sure if I should be sad or relieved. That's what confuses me.'

The corner of her mouth turned wryly. She knew exactly what I felt. And despite the frustrating silence, I didn't want it to be anything else. This is how it was with us. We just understood.

'I always feel that writing was my passion. But how could it be a passion if I let it go so easily? That would indicate I don't really want it, right? That I don't really care? Or maybe not. Maybe it's because I care too much, and I know I can't force it to happen. It would be like forcing someone you loved to serve you at every whim and fancy, always at your beck and call. Maybe.'

She giggled. Shrugged. Maybe yes, maybe no. May be. May. Spring.

'Well, yeah. Sure. Maybe you're right. I guess it's just a season where I can let the cold cover me down, where my thoughts buried over with snow can find its roots again, maybe let my thoughts simmer and stew, find itself anew. I'll always love writing, but writing needs time to nurture itself as well. I guess we'll find out.'

She, with her bare branches, seemed to nod. She loved her leaves, and would wait for them too.

Best Wishes, Everyone :)

Remember Now?

See song here: http://iq-butterflyeffect.blogspot.ca/2013/12/hai-jamalo-hunterz.html

Fly

That was the thing. You just never knew. Forever was so many different things. It was always changing, it was what everything was really all about. It was twenty minutes, or a hundred years, or just this instant, or any instant I wished would last and last. But there was only one truth about forever that really mattered, and that was this: it was happening.

The Truth About Forever - Sarah Dessen.

Gifted by Our Stars

While reading the Metro on the way home I came across this, and found it quite accurate with regards to some of the signs and people who fall under the starsign. Thought it would be quite jolly interesting to share it with you to cross-check.

CLICK ON IMAGE TO ZOOM.

Torment

Most of us chase after unrelenting angst simply because that perpetual dynamic of perpetual torment gives us reason to feel, reason to be.Our state of mind also follows Newton's Laws. It's not always the physicality that defines physics.  Often we refuse to let go simply because we fear and dread lapsing into a state of inertia wherein we cease to exist. Torment becomes our confidante and companion, validating our existence by its fuel of desire, and lack of fulfillment, & therefore purpose.

(In the style of Monsieur LaBeouf, this post has been plagiarized 

from myself)

The Truth About Forever

It's all in the view. That's what I mean about forever, too. For any one of us our forever could end in an hour, or a hundred years from now. You never know for sure, so you'd better make every second count."

Sarah Dessen.

Sleigh

Ever more frequently, the posts on my blog dwindle; the monthly count, if one chooses to look, are almost insignificantly negligible.

I've meant to write about a whole plethora of things, but for some reason I never get quite to it. That isn't to say that I have what seems to be going around as easily as the season's flu: writer's block. I don't. That I can certainly assure you and myself. I do write, and for myself, but Supercalifragilisticsexyalidocious has more and more been losing the 'sexy' that makes it all that much more unique, if not only in name, but in quality.

I couldn't quite explain it to you either, or perhaps I might try. I guess with the advent of busy-hood in life, I have dedicated my downtime toward other pursuits. More specifically, actually and literally spending it down (on my bed, mind you). And with the accompaniment of the lowering temperatures of Winter, of course what else could be better than cuddling in bed after a long day at work?

So back to the original train of thought: I've been meaning to write about my job; not the one which rendered me senselessly stressed out, but the new one, which is a total flip- I love it. I love it so much that I am incapable of putting forth the words to do this love justice.

Or perhaps it is just that creeping lethargy that has invaded my pores; the habituation of lazy that has possessed my musculature devoted to blogging.  Yes, perhaps, somewhat, if not entirely, it is this.

I have also meant to sing the praises of the wonders of the great outdoors. The snow! The wind! The blue! The twinkling lights of the season! The clouds! The moon (when spotted). Alas, I  have not. Mayhap this small blurb does something to cover the void that has gaped unacceptably, having demarcated no record of the wonders of this year's winter.

Nevertheless.

It has just occurred to me, also, that the year is actually almost reaching its end. I have therefore, two choices. I can make a great deal about this, and wax philosophical. Or I can take the other road, and decide that time is only a phantom of the psyche and is irrelevant in the big picture. Okay, so that may also be somewhat philosophical. Oh well.

I also meant to put down in writing the fact that I'm pretty glad with life as it is right now. Oh, I know, I did devote a post to this on Lucid, and you can traipse over the snowy hills to read my thoughts as soon as you are through with this bit of toboganning.

There's a funny word, if there was one. Toboganning. I miss doing that, by the way, the good old days of dragging the sled behind us as we trudge through the knee high snow to the top of the hill. Good times, indeed.

and then, weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!,
all
   the
        way
              down.

Sense

On the bus, homeward bound. Nain Parinde floating through the quiet sense of peace settled upon the other commuters on a half-filled bus in the dark evening speckled with twinkling evening lights. Somehow, suddenly, I realized I had been smiling. Smiling to myself, yes, but that simple quiet smile that is less a smile of facial musculature and more of the type surfacing from deep within. My sense of self was imbued with a great contentment.

It occurred to me that half my sense of being might be attributed to the music creating the right mod, and even more beautiful was the sheer coincidence of that exact song playing at that very moment, accompanying my skimming of pages of the old and well-thumbed notebook wherein I write these thoughts; reading old memories of a past self that had been waiting, longing, and dreaming...

The juxtaposition further heightened this sense of tranquility: the longing of the past superimposed on its fulfillment in present. That is when it occurred to me, in gauging the credibility of my mellowed euphoria, that while I was exquisitely content for various wonderful reasons, I could not yet say that I was entirely satisfied on all counts; lingering on periphery was still yet a great void that stretched on to a distance immeasurable, a lingering longing in hopes of reunion, a pause of bated breath -- it occurred to me, that this was contentment. This balance, so precarious, teetering, yet maintained, this acceptance, this gratitude, this pervading sense of self, in all ways possible, past, present and future, all threaded together through, within and extending beyond all sense of measure, yes, this was contentment.

11/12/13/17:45

Inspiration

I always seem to have this knack of 'falling at first sight' -- and by that I don't mean literally the romantic love that is regularly ascribed to the phenomenon of 'love at first sight'.

Those of you who are one of the 'special' ones, sorry my special ones, know exactly what I am referring to (well I have already written about it enough times, so yeah). I have discovered - the pleasant type of discovery we sometimes encounter in life which instill within us a contentment in the whole cacophony that life essentially seems to be; the kind where we can use that awesomely amazing word: serendipity! - that most of my lifelong and profound relationships (read: friendships) come into effect quite immediately.

Sometimes it just took a brief encounter which entailed a glare, a wink, a few words, a moment or period of mutual observation, and that was it.

In the last several months, as my readers might recall, I had embarked in a new 'mission', as I called it in a previous post. That mission had lasted all of two months, and it has definitely been quite an experience, both good and bad. The fact that I am moving on from it, however, means that the bad outweighed the good. But not with any lasting or lingering effect, thankfully.

In fact, the whole purpose of this post is because of the 'good'. In the last couple of weeks, I bonded with an amazing gentle and darling colleague; another one of those almost instant-friendships, just add water, type. I suppose that just goes to show that, eh cliche alert, things do happen for reasons. And moreover, this brief period, wherein the bad effects were at its height (and I mean WHOA-stress-elevator-rocketing high), served to only emphasize the strength of the connection.

She is also a blogger, and maybe that's one of the reasons we found a kindred spirit within one another. There are lots of other reasons, and since today is actually my last day in working with her on a daily basis, I deemed it quite appropriate to dedicate today's post to her (that and the fact that she told me today that she's been going through my posts and ahem, *humble moment*, has been inspired).

So, Miss S., this one is for you. Though our official time has ended, this is just the start of a beautiful thing! (Not just speaking of us -- I mean for you, life in general).

P.S. Thank you for not suffocating me entirely today.

Shiver

I am alone in the world, and yet not alone enough to make each hour holy. I am lowly in this world, and yet not lowly enough for me to be just a thing to you, dark and shrewd. I want my will and I want to go with my will as it moves towards action.

‘And I want, in those silent, somehow faltering times, to be with someone who knows, or else alone. I want to reflect everything about you, and I never want to be too blind or too ancient to keep your profound wavering image with me. I want to unfold. I don’t want to be folded anywhere, because there, where I’m folded, I am a lie.'

-Rilke