Some of life's lessons so far

The last few days and weeks, I’ve been thinking. And while I’ve always known that experience is the best teacher and that life’s lessons are the best learning, it struck me how true that is – especially in the littlest of things. It has been on my mind since I read Diaryface's March post, which got me thinking of the things I have learned myself. So here is a list of some of the little things that I could come up with. It ends abruptly, because there can never be a conclusive end to such a post, but here it is anyway.

• While money isn’t necessary, sometimes it can be helpful. When I was younger, my contentment and happiness stemmed from the simple things. Racing my friends down the stairs, pressing the button in the elevator, swinging from the roots of banyan trees, listening to teeny bopper bands. All these things made me content, if not ecstatic. And it never once crossed my mind that money was something that was essential. But as time goes by, while some of these things still make me happy, it’s a little more complicated. While money cannot buy me happiness, it sure can facilitate the emotion just a little. Not because possessing it gives a sense of happiness, but because it can help to make some happiness-inducing things take place.

• Every kiss need not be followed by conversation, and every kiss need not result in a relationship. When I first watched “A Lot like Love”, I never got why Amanda Peet’s character said “Don’t. You’ll ruin it.” every time she and Ashton Kutcher’s character kissed. But now I do; now I get it completely. Sometimes, not saying anything after a kiss is the best thing to do. Especially a first kiss. That way, it can never be tarnished and it can never be led to stray into murky territory. And you’re left with the euphoria of the kiss forever.

• There is a strange satisfaction in art, even if you’re not artistic. And there is a stranger satisfaction in childish art and craft – drawing a stereotypical picture of a house with a long driveway, a huge front yard and surrounded by a fence that separates it from the hills in the background. Or colouring mindlessly, with no sense of dimension, the pictures in a children’s Jumbo colouring book. Or making one of those origami models from a do-it-yourself handbook.

• Some of the best conversations happen over chai, and not even necessarily accompanied by cigarettes. While I’m not entirely sure whether chai itself has anything to do with that, it is an effective tool of conversation. The best time to vent about a silly ex boyfriend, or a crabby old aunt is over chai. And the best time to squeak with excitement over a kickass idea for a present, or a plan that will help overcome all sense of irresponsibility is over chai. It works both ways – happily and not-so-happily.

• There is very little a good long walk with appropriate music cannot fix. Whether you’re angry and frustrated, miserable and sad, happy and energetic – walking fits all moods. Bad news? Walk it off. A writer’s block? Walk it off. A fight with a close one? Walk it off. Happy about something? Walk it… well, in this case, not off, just walk it!

• All friendships don’t necessarily last forever. Some tend to fizzle out and become nonexistent. For a variety of reasons, but that doesn’t mean concern for the other person also becomes nonexistent. True friends will always care for the other, even if the friendship doesn’t last forever. Maybe they won’t care in the same way, but they will.

• Bravery and courage exist in different forms, and being brave doesn’t mean not being scared. Being brave, at the end of the day, is being scared but doing what you have to do. A mother sending her child out into the big bad world is brave. A couple fighting against all societal odds to be together forever is brave. A young teen struggling with first heartbreak and trying to deal with it in a right, healthy manner is brave. Another young teen moving to a new city, starting afresh and learning to live there alone, in order to complete his/her education is brave.

• As much as being single and on your own is awesome, having somebody by your side kicks awesome’s ass. It’s all very well to sing “I don’t need a man” and other such single girl-power songs, but at the end of the day, being single stings a little. Especially when you’re surrounded by these happy couples, who seem to make it look so effortless. And you’re left wondering sometimes, if there is something fundamentally wrong with you because of which the longest relationship you’ve had was a little more than six months long.

Diaryface is coming to town!

Regular readers of Musings are familiar with the term, “Diaryface”. They may not know who she is, or understand the kind of relationship we share, but they are aware of her presence in my life since she’s featured here more than once. She’s a person I’ve never even met yet, but who knows much too much about me. Kindred spirits, like the kind Anne Shirley talks of with such fervor. Creepily alike, but poles apart. Someone who "not only tolerates my incessant ramblings, but actually manages to acquire the underlying sense behind them."

For six months, my Diaryface and I have anticipated the event of us coming face-to-face. We have six months worth of daily mails filled with, “When I get there…” and “When you get here…” and so on. We’ve made mental lists of things to do and places to go, people to meet and stuff to eat. And now, “DiaryfaceMeetsDiaryface” happens TOMORROW. Within 24 hours, diaryfaceness will be brought to chai-drinking, cigarette-smoking, violently affectionate, bossy life. I'm sure it will be peppered with fights and arguments with a scrawny being, as to who will spend how much time where and when and all that, but that’s alright. This event has been awaited for so long, that I’ll take it anyhow. She made me promise things yesterday, when she called to say she's in the country, things I wasn’t too happy to oblige to, but then I obliged anyway because she’s a Diaryface and it’s not everyday a Diaryface is procured! Not only that, she tends to be a little scary sometimes. Only, don’t ever tell her I admitted to that.

TOMORROW. Words fail me when I try to describe what tomorrow will be. All I can say (in addition to the disbelief I feel that it’s already here!) when I think about tomorrow is this: EEEEEEEEEK!