Okay, sorry for that gap. I just figured people might still be recovering from new year excesses, resolutions made and broken or on the verge of being made (technically, you can do it till the end of the month).
Well, yes, I could have written about my quiet new year’s eve, the idiocies of last year, my Christmas tree (which still looms large, despite the cat eating a part of it), my birthday (which doesn’t fall in December) or my trip to Goa. Really now! How much reality TV can one do? Even if you are a loyal reader, do you really care?
But that’s not it. My silence had to do with my resolution to be Zen about life. That is, to not treat everyone as a moron unless proven otherwise. Which means to assume everyone is super intelligent and super cool unless proven otherwise. And to say nice things whenever I can, and hold back on the not-so-nice.
Suddenly nothing Chickwitty was happening, as I pledged not to view the world with those eyes. This was self-defeating, I figured. I was better off being mean and judgemental. I missed my fangs.
It took a reunion invite to change it all in just seven days.
I know I have talked about this before, but you are always in touch with people you really want to be in touch with. Even if you meet them once every few years. The rest of them get weeded out from your life by desire or circumstance anyway. Unless it’s family where you can laugh at your genetic connectedness to absolute imbeciles and their offspring, I don’t find reunions very cool. In fact they are the opposite of cool. It’s like everyone is trying to be what they were 10-15-20 years ago, and thinking it’s cool. I also abhor people who say, “Oh, you haven’t changed one bit.” Of course I have, you twit. I don’t have to be nice to you anymore.
So the said reunion was a “50 years of.... (place I worked at)” thing. It reminded me of a phase of my career I wanted to erase (including the people who featured in it). Given a chance, all I’d like to do at such reunions is rearrange a few faces. Now that I no longer work for them or with them, I am free to do anything, am I not? Then I figured, some of them would have been botoxed and rearranged anyway, so why go through the bother?
I quickly realised such thoughts and desires would tamper with my resolved Zen-ness. I declined.
But there are some reunions I really dig. Those with old girlfriends. There is something about a biaatch from yore. I met a dear one last week, and it was as though everything else in our life had been obliterated for those few hours and we were back to what we were 15 years ago. It was therapeutic as we tore people we mutually hated to shreds (all over again), gloated over our coolness, took stock of our vanities, drank ourselves silly, whined about all the men we didn’t introduce each other to, completely ignored our status change (she: married for ten years, me: married with child) and pitied all those who didn’t get us.
Evidently, Zen went out the window.