Why, man of morals, tell me why?

Minneapolis and its horrendously cold winters don't lend themselves very well to walking while lost in thought. I've noticed lately how difficult it is to avoid those small pools of what looks like water but is, in fact,(oh, it surely is, now that's it spring, oh snap, it's) ice while compulsively making lists of five people whose presence my life could have done without or five creative ways to die. I wonder where this obsession with lists of five began. I always ask people for five good reasons to do something I don't want them to do. Three when I want them to do it and there aren't five good ones. But then it's always seven or a multiple of when asked to pick a random number meant to be manipulated to demonstrate my brother's newly discovered math skills. Maybe it's just about odd numbers,then. Or, perhaps, it's about having some illusion of order to my life which is not all that confusing in the first place. All the minor acts of rebellion against the painful normalcy of my life are in turn so normal and so common that there seems to be no way out. Five years ago, I wouldn't have imagined that I'd feel the need to be someone/something/anything else so desperately. I guess, that's what being with a fiercely nonconformist partner does to a hassle-free existence. I discover new oddities every day and then analyze them and blow them up till they become distinct parts of my identity. Even though making lists of five isn't necessarily a character building activity or really a quirk given the sheer number of people who can think and know how to count, I imagine I'm the only one I know who does it, just to feel special. Just to be like him. And then there are things that everybody I know really does. Like studying for years to land a job. and then taking that job to live the life. and then living and wanting that life even though it's probably far more difficult than just doing nothing or even dying. These have come to mean nothing because everyone does them. Even though, what I've been learning and the life I was assured of by going through six unkind years of college almost completely influence what I am today, these parts of my life are to be subdued or ignored because they involve this other trait called ambition and ambition is never cool. yes, I said cool. Because an engineer is neither endearing nor interesting to anyone, but a fan of snow patrol is, perhaps, both and more. The love for the right kinda movies and music says to some, here's one with good taste. The love for, what I think is, the right kinda education and a real career just says in large neon letters: ordinary.

I zoned out for a while here, censoring myself and using the backspace button fervently, and had this blinding moment of clarity. yeah, the one followed by a resounding thwack to the forehead for not realizing something so simple earlier.

I have gone from being torn between wanting to please my parents and wanting to do what I like even though it hurts the health of my relationship with my parents to being torn between wanting to please Ashok and wanting to do what I like even though it hurts the health of my relationship with my Ashok. Every single time I manage to do what I like I secretly think of myself as unimaginably heroic. Even though it involves something as un-grand as finding and falling for Ashok(in the previous case) or getting sloshed(in the latter). My parents always said they didn't really have a problem with me finding and falling for someone, they just weren't happy about a few things: like timing, Ashok and his general influence on me. Ashok always says he doesn't really have a problem with me getting drunk, it's just the timing and alcohol's general influence over me that riles him. Oh, you and I know what else is gonna rile him, this comparison and this blog post. But, today I can be reckless coz tomorrow I could be jobless and, subsequently, broke and internetless. I go get pasted and try to hug the My Chemical Romance star on First Ave's walls (when sufficiently drunk I feel the name has special meaning given this thing we two have going here) because I'm never going to get to do it again. I dance like I'm possessed from the moment I start buzzing coz I have trouble even smiling at people when sober but I really like people, I like being around them, I don't like sitting alone, constantly trying to please people who're important to me but don't really like me unless I'm the way they want me to be. Drunk people love each other. Drunk people don't care what you are. There's no real need to be unique when you're moving with a crowd. There's no need to watch out for death traps set in ice on the sidewalks coz there is no embarrassment or pain until later. Five good reasons to fuck up your liver and lungs? I'll give you one. For jus those few hours/minutes it doesn't matter if you're ill-equipped in every way for the life you're being asked to live.