I had a terrible day at work today. I am ok with long workdays, or tiring workdays, or frustrating workdays, or depressing workdays. What I am not ok with is long, tiring, frustrating, depressing workdays. Today was one such day. And I am not a happy person.
But that doesn’t mean I won’t write right. I will, because I love it. I have realised that on days I write, as in I try to and am actually able to, I have this sort of accomplished feeling. The post might not be great, it might be rubbish, it might not garner even one comment, but it just makes me feel full – full of lots of happy.
Which makes me think, just how important is to do things you love? I mean, is there a point to doing anything at all if you are not doing something you love? I don’t mean you have to be only doing things you love at all times. That isn’t realistic, even if it were I am assuming it would get boring if there weren’t some things you enjoyed more than others. What I mean is, at times we get so caught up with the ‘need to do’, you lose sight of the ‘want to do’, and even if you have it at the back of your mind, you are too busy to take time out for it. And that is when annoyance and frustration sets in, because you end up being helpless, stuck in a rut doing things that are necessary for survival, but not necessary for living the good life.
Then there are folks who do what they love for most part, but those are the lucky ones. For the rest of us, that little bit of time we spend doing things that matter is something we look forward to. So what do I love doing?
Quite a few little things, turns out. Reading; not just the actual reading part but that feeling when I am through a book and I am replaying the events in my head, wondering about the mysteries that finally unravelled, the characters that explained themselves a little better, that little twist that took my breath away. Music; whether it’s that latest Bollywood number on loop on my earphones, or ‘David Bowie Sunday’ by the Dude at home, or The Killers in the car.
The car; those long stretches of expressways, with the symmetrical speed bumps to wake you up, or those narrow roads through unknown villages, the trees forming canopies that don’t allow the sun rays to pass through. Roads; in unknown cities around the world, walking through, absorbing the sights and the smells, and the stopovers to try the tastes.
Food; any food, good food, new places to eat at, new cuisines, new combinations, desserts and chocolates. Eating home food, eating mom’s food, while I sit lazily reading a book, while she cooks and manages Zo simultaneously. Saturday night drinks; the beers and the Sitcom marathons, the tequila shots and the mindless dancing, the Scotch and the movies. Sunday brunches, movie dates, buffet breakfasts. Shopping; for clothes and shoes and bags and for Zo.
Zo; running around with her, painting with her, reading to her. Getting her dressed, styling her beautiful hair, watching Frozen with her. Listening to her tell about her day, and that she loves her mom, that she’s a fashionista and that she would want to share my clothes and shoes once she is ‘big’.
And ofcourse, The Dude; all the time with him, any time with him. All of what I love doing, doing it with him.
None of this is a new discovery, it is all I have always known. But at times, it is just so necessary that you keep track of all that you love doing, just so you keep doing it, without fail, however tired you are, however out of time. Like now, like right now, I write this, when in fact I am tired out of my wits, and falling over my keyboard but I am doing it anyway, because I love writing and it is important I write something other than mails or notes at the 100 meetings I attend.
And honestly, I am loving it.