Death Of A Weekend

I'm so depressed.

So very depressed.

And yet another weekend passes by. Bah. To what end, I ask?

I live from weekend to weekend. Waiting as the week drains by, burns to nothingness. Looking forward with such anticipation for that release from boredom, for that salvation, for that energy. And at no time is that wait longer and more desperate than Monday morning. I want... I need that weekend, that Friday evening. And finally the weekend does come and its going to be awesome! And then, inevitably, it too fizzles out and dies, and is gone in a flash. Doing the same things I've been doing. To no end.

And I've been doing this for a year.

Yes its been a year since I've come back to Pune, marked, incidentally, by Valentine's Day. Back from training in Infosys Mysore. That was a joyous day for me. As always, when I am on the brink of change, I was full of a hope, a new hope, for a new life. A year later, its all the same.

What am I doing? I'm drinking away the days. I have no direction. What is my job? I don't know. It's just some money. Really, do I deserve it? Do I earn it? I'm so bored of everything.

I can't do this. I can't get depressed. Not now. Its too soon. Every year I get depressed from a few times to several times. I mean actually clinically depressed. Just no one knows about it. The recent trend (the last few years, ok, since after highschool) is that I generally go through one depression in the month of April. What is up with that? What is it with that end of March and start of April time? It used to be so happy. It used to mean the end of exams, it used to mean freedom and joy and abandon. I went through one of the worst depressions till date in April 2009. Man, I thought my life lacked direction then. Sigh. Yes, I have a depressing life.

But it's just February. I can't be depressed so soon. Not in the new year. Especially when I started the year with such positive changes. Meh. I can't fucking do this.

One whole year I've just been mucking around. And now all I keep wondering is, what is it all for? What is there at the end of it all?

Jesus fucking Christ. I'm serious. I'm on the verge of tears I'm so depressed.

Oh, loathful Monday.

And the best part is the weekend no longer provides that respite it once did.

I can't keep doing this. I need something. Something new. Anything. Why can't my life be like in those movies where the protagonist starts out as a highly mediocre, depressed chap grinding out a 9 to 5 and who is extremely unhappy, but then this life altering thing happens to him? Like say in Fight Club or Wanted? That would awesome. How come I'm never a "chosen one"? And invariably there will be some insanely hot chick somehow involved, and the protagonist gets to screw her. Granted that Angelina Jolie probably didn't want to screw James McAvoy, but like in Eragon the guy gets a hot Elven chick.

But no, that shit just never happens to me. Just once, I'd like to find a dragon egg. It's getting bad. No, its already bad. It's getting worse. You know you're in a sad state when the thing that used to save you no longer does. Weekends just don't do it anymore. Not that same shit all the time.

I need something. Some direction. Some guidance. Anything. From anywhere. From up above. From down below. From fucking anywhere. Just save me from this... rut that I've created for myself. And the worst part is, I know I really can't complain. I've got it good. And that just makes it suck even more. I don't know what's missing or how to get it. I'm a ship without sails.

And fucking Valentines Day is here again. What a day for me to write this post. One year. I thought I hated this day before. God, and I have to go to gym tomorrow. Lame. I'm so bored of that. And what has it ever got me? Now I can't fit in that nice Homer shirt I bought myself.

It's the death of another weekend. And I fear it may be the death of the idea of the weekend. And that is thought that scares and depresses me all the more. And it's just February.

Fuckin' hell.

Sunburnt

God damn, its the new year, and this is my first blog. What the hell happened to January? It all went by in a blur, and admittedly, I didn't accomplish anything noteworthy in that time, so there's no excuse for my prolonged absence.

Well there's still shit to talk about from December and I'm going to get right to the point: Sunburn. One of the biggest music festivals in the world. DJs from all corners of the earth converge at Candolim beach in Goa and the party is on for three whole days. People from all over the world come to Goa for this event. It's beautiful. If you think this blog is actually about Sunburn, however, you should probably navigate your browser elsewhere.

Now one of the things I like most about this festival is all the hot girls in bikinis. Like... oh... my... god. I'm not even kidding. Babes and bikinis.

And it's not even just the foreign girls. The Indian girls are hot. And I'm not saying that with surprise, obviously Indian girls are hot, but JFC, there were so many and they were so hot and awesome. Where the hell are all these girls once Sunburn is over?

A cheeky bastard in the back shouts: "They went back to north India!"


Hey, asshole! Fuck you.

But no, seriously, north Indian girls have it going on. That's not to say that I don't like girls from south India or for that matter other parts of India (or indeed, the world), I'm just saying I happened to see a lot of hot north Indian girls there. In bikinis. Looking bloody awesome. For the sake of brevity and also to not sound like a perv (which I'm not. No, really) I will leave the rest to your imagination. Especially this one girl that was there, who was short and perfectly proportioned and I just wanted to DIE...

Anyway, there were just so many of them. Are all of them taken? But of course. Which then brings me to the hordes of north Indian guys I saw.

Now I'm sure that the staggering majority of them are absolutely normal, good people. But what I can't stand is just the generic north Indian guy, which is pretty much all I saw there. Tall. Well built(ish). Fair. And good hair. All the same. Every one of them. So boring. What do girls see in them? Besides all the stuff I just mentioned? Pfftt...

What is with them? Why are they all so high on themselves? They think they can do whatever they want and they own everything. They have a lot of money and all drive around in Honda Citys or ride around on BMW bikes or whatever, and wear those tight fighting shirts and shades and gel up their hair. I reiterate: Pfftt...

Now I don't know what great hopes I had there. But it just so happened that I wound up next to this "couple", with this guy who had his arms around a girl. She seemed to be an NRI, and he was one of the above mentioned generic north Indians. It soon became apparent that they had just met. So unfair! God, does personality have no bearing in this world? Is it all about raw looks and power? And as they were bumping and grinding to the beats (hahaha, that phrase always cracks me up) and I watched on in :facepalm: mode, I could catch snippets of their conversation. Finally, in attempts to impress her further I guess, he said "Do you want me to speak in Hindi for you? I could speak in Hindi for you..." at which point I had to get the hell out of there and burst out laughing. That really made my day. What a retard. I can speak Hindi for you? Is that not just fucking lame? And its as if its such a romantic language or something! Sure, fine, he got the girl, which is the most important thing, but I will never forget that line.

Sunburn is always fucking crazy. Only this year there was no smoking/drugs at the venue. And also the host, Nikhil Chinapa, got drunk and made us all bored with his "Sunburn family" speech every three minutes. But the amalgam of people, from every corner of the world... so many beautiful faces. and a sea of hands before a beautiful laser lit stage... its fantastic in itself man. Totally worth the 5k I spent. Oh, and did I mention a lot of hot girls in their summer clothes were there?

Those who know Sean from Blackpool knew that he couldn't make it this year, because I met a lot of English people, and I couldn't blow my cover. So I was just Sean from Texas. Meh. But as a good friend pointed out to me after I related to him the above story, maybe next time I should just get drunk and pretend I'm from north India. Hmmm. Changing your accent can only do so much, it can't perform miracles.

Oh, and I'm not racist; I hate everyone equally.