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Things that make me happy

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universe fireflie has tagged me in this really sweet post about ten things that make me happy.
I will try to answer them to the best of my ability, but it is going to be tough. If you are aware of my writing, you would have noticed that I am more than capable of writing about sad depressing stuff. So writing about things that makes me happy is a bit weird for me. So before I make this more awkward…let’s start!!!
WARNING: This is a really really long post.

In no particular order…

My Sister
When I think of happiness, my sister is the first person that comes to my mind. It would be an understatement if I say that I am extremely fond of my sister. She is my favorite person in this world. I love how sweet she is, how much curiosity she has for the world, the genuine interests that we both share. Any day, anytime spent with her is bound to be filled with happiness- may it be the serene calm type of happiness or laughing out hearts out type happiness. She is crucial to my happiness.
I am lucky that I happen to be the sister of my best friend. 🙂
Afterthoughts: My sister draws really well. I am so proud of her that I can’t help but promote her work here. She will probably kill me for this though.
Here are the links to my sister’s work, if you are interested : WordPress, Instagram, and Youtube.

Books
I love to read. I am not sure if what I read is intellectual or refined enough. But I like what I like – mostly fiction and poetry. I think reading is what led me to have love for words and even for this world. Books make me believe that there is a meaning in everything, that life is meaningful. It is the kind of assurance that life by itself has never been able to give me. I wouldn’t categorize books into a means to escape from life, but rather a new layer to life that makes me more tolerant of people and world. I love buying books, reading them, finding more books to read. Even the sight of my bookshelf, the thought of all the books that I am yet to read, even adding a new book into my “to read” list makes me feel excited.
Afterthought: On that note, here is a quote from the book I am reading currently:
“Running might take her forward, it could even take her home; but it couldn’t take her back–not ten minutes, ten hours, not ten years or days. And that was tough, as Hely would say. Tough: since back was the way she wanted to go, since the past was the only place she wanted to be.”
― Donna Tartt, The Little Friend

BTS
I will try not to make this too long (because I know I am fully capable of turning this into a 8 hour presentation on BTS).
I love BTS. I love their music, their performances, their passion, their ethics, their character, etc. I cannot possibly explain what effect they have had on my life. I would say they have deepened my passions, made me believe in the goodness in world, and made me believe in the goodness that I am capable of. My life is thousand times better with them in it. They have touched and changes millions of lives through their music, through their existence. I wish they also find the happiness that they want.
I low-key love ARMY – BTS fans who have showered them with all the love they deserve and who try to protect them as much as they can.
Afterthoughts: I think almost every person has one artist whose works resonates with them. BTS just happens to be that artist whose work has most effect on me. I think we should treasure that, always remember that feeling of looking at life with a person who just happens to think about life the same way we do. It is not about supremacy of one artist over other, about loving the artist that made you understand and love ourselves.

Music
My love for music is equivalent to my love of books. Maybe I love music a bit more than books. Each song that I love or like is an experience in itself, those few minutes makes me forget myself and sometimes remind who I am and who I was. I can listen to the same song many many times and only to love it more. I do not have a favorite genre or anything. I think it solely depends on the song.
Afterthoughts:
-Even though I try to explore as many songs as possible in as many language as possible, but most of the time I am not aware of the “popular” stuff. You might even think I am living under a rock. Now, I do not believe that popular songs are bad or good. I am not a person who is against mainstream music. It is just that I am so caught up in the things that I like that I do not get time to even look at other stuff. I sort of live in my own bubble.
– BTS gets its own separate point here, because my love for them is on a whole new level. Their music is awesome. But they are so much more than their music. Stanning BTS is a way of life.

Writing
I think I am a person who has zero confidence in herself. I do not think I am especially gifted in anything. I am not particularly intelligent or beautiful or funny or creative. And I take writing in the same spirit. I do not think I am exceptional at writing, but I love writing. I love the fact that I can write average good stuff some days. I love the 2000 lines of drafts that will never make to a post. When I write, I love how much clearer and focused my head is. I love my writing more when someone else find comfort in my words. I agree that writing with a regular job is difficult and bit pressurizing but writing gives me such joy, that I don’t think I can possibly quit writing.
Afterthoughts: I once heard about a rule that one cannot estimate themselves correctly. So I am probably worse or better than what I think I am. I hope my writing is better than what I think it is.

Internet
There were so many things to list here, so I collectively grouped them as “internet”. But then who doesn’t love internet. It is sort of basic thing that a lot of us take for granted. Having access to so much content, so much information makes me happy. I love the hour that I uselessly spend on looking at memes, the hours I spend playing and upgrading stuff on games that will take me nowhere in life, the hour I spend on watching videos, all the silly hilarious stuff that I retweet at 2 am, binge reading everything about MBTI on Quora, reading random articles that I will end up forgetting anyways. Though it is just a stream of easy to consume media, but still it does make us happy in some ways. And that happiness is significant in itself.
Afterthoughts: I am aware everything is not picture perfect on internet. Internet depresses us also. But with I have learnt to leave online spaces that make me feel bad about myself uselessly.
I am not good with interacting with people online, that is one thing that I cannot enjoy. It is not about whether these people are friends or strangers. I just have a feeling that I have nothing to say that the other person would be interested to know about. (That’s the reason that I silently like your posts rather than leaving the comment you deserve.)
I don’t like to stay online for long also. The moment I finish doing what I had in my mind, I switch off my data. Because I just can’t handle all the notifications. I like the dear old SMS to communicate rather than the new efficient apps with awesome features.

Series/Movies/Stories
Watching series and movies is another joy to me, something that I spend a lot of my time on. Every thing I have watched, every character that I have watched is equivalent to a life that I have lived briefly. I don’t do binge watch though. I like some time to think over everything. That is the pace I am comfortable – to watch something and reflect on it, think about it, to anticipate what is yet to come for the whole day. I think that feeling the story grow in you as you go about your everyday life is an essential part of the whole experience, a part that adds more importance to what I am watching.
Afterthoughts: Again as with music, I have no idea of the popular stuff. I just see what I end up finding. I do have list of stuff to see but that is based on word-of-mouth suggestion from people who like the same things as me.
I do not have a favorite movie or series or book. Naming favorites is too tough for me. For each story, each actor, each director etc. has their own charm. That would be like comparing apples to oranges.

Everything emotional/sentimental/sort of spiritual
I do not look like an emotional person, but I am. I am an INFJ with Cancer zodiac, what else can you expect but an over-sentimental person. I like anything that seeks to explore or talk about these sentiment, anything that values human emotions and shows how complicated and simple it can be. Similarly, I have same feeling about works related to spirituality. I enjoy the company of people who genuinely have something to talk on these topics. I am not into talking about people but talking about ideas. Not the ideas that change the world, but ideas that helps me understand why we feel the way we feel, ideas that give me insight into the tiny limited world.
Afterthought: I think I am not one of those people who can or want to change the world. My mind never wanders into that direction. All I think about is my understanding of world and how to perfect that understanding. Sometimes I think I am a narcissist and self-absorbed person because of that.

Lazing around/Sleeping
I don’t react well to stress. So I am always looking forward to a good sleep or a day without schedules or deadline. A day that I can waste away makes me happy. Even though lazing around for me again means books/music/series etc. Even when it is not busy it is still a busy life.

Being Busy
As much as I like lazing around, I like being busy more. Because of my sense of being less than average and constant feeling of not being good enough. I don’t handle free time well. I feel that no one needs me, the world will work without me also. That I have nothing to offer to world. It is a very sad feeling. So I try to do my work properly, try to do by best in everything. I like the days that I have work myself to point of losing all my energy. So that I can enjoy all the things I love (everything mentioned above) without guilt.
Afterthought: It is not that I cannot sit still or introspect without driving myself to the point of sadness. I like introspection a lot. But having days and weeks of time for just introspection makes me feel like a useless person.

Things that almost made to this list but didn’t (and why):

Food
I used to enjoy eating a lot. I still love god food. But I can’t each or enjoy it as I used to. Something has changed in me, maybe I am growing old. Now I don’t have that much craze for it.

Friends
I don’t think I am good at friendship. I loved my friends while I was with them. But then apart from the brief time of companionship, there nothing much left of those time now. My expectation from friendship I think is a bit too much. I think in the long run friendships don’t give me happiness.

“What I Remember (24)” – Nayana Nair

It is time to go out into the world.

It is time that I try hard to get my heart broken
and pretend that it is happening for the first time,

to claim that I trusted blindly
knowing it is not something I am capable of,

to fit my body awkwardly
in the kind of life that people call ‘life’

to find words, to practice the new lingo
that can make something about me relatable,
so that my skin soaked in a tiring tale of sadness
doesn’t make me an alien,

to fill me up again with pictures
of parks, cafes, malls, and roads filled with people
who supposedly like each other,
if not a lot,
then at least enough to not let their ailing self
ruin the perfect moment, the perfect teamwork, the perfect promise.
(Perfection that relies on someone else
doesn’t sit well with me.)

It is time I find something new
that I cannot be or cannot have
before I lock myself up again
for next hundred heart years.

So while I am out to find something to write about and hurt about
miss me my cell,
pray for me.
I am afraid that once I am surrounded by all
that I have learned not to want,
I might start to hope again.
I might slip again.
I might forget to see the distance that I carry in me
and get disappointed by the doors that I can’t reach.

“Support” – Nayana Nair

9344-Supportive-Friend

We know
how to support the cause.
We don’t know
how to support the victims.

“SMALL WORLD” -Nayana Nair

562927679

I see these places that will remain

as strange as they are to me today.

I see these little people scattered on the streets.

I see them locked away in a world not their own.

This lonely expanse on this never ending piece of earth.

And I see these toy like cars and trucks.

Somehow they don’t belong together.

I try to guess (,to think)

what it feels like to live in such small world

and not on this huge earth.

I guess they don’t know what I see from here.

That life had a dead end.

And at that end

either

we can choose to be in tinier coffins

or

we can be a part of never ending sky

and this ever nourishing earth.

“TO WRITE” – Nayana Nair

autumn-back-beautiful-black-book-Favim.com-356847gh

I wonder sometimes how nice it would have been If I could write. Though not just write, but being able to write those beautiful words that can inspire somebody, that stays in their heart and if lucky enough move them to tears. That wouldn’t be just nice …that would be the best thing that I could have. But sadly, it seems as one of my favorite blog writers said “there are people who have stories and there are people who can write”. And it seems that I can’t be categorized under neither of them. Nor do I have stories and neither can I write.

I do try, try to think of stories. And rarely, it does occur that, I’ll get some pretty good idea. But then I’ll spend days , nights and months, trying to expand this idea into a story. But maybe I expand too much, then the idea becomes bleak amidst all I would have thought up. So before I forget them, I try to write down whatever I would have come up till that point of time. The first two pages are quite nicely written, but then after some days I end up with loads of rubbish scribbled on paper, that deserve only one place: dustbin. So, my all efforts to do something related to writing is just a waste of time. But the problem is even though experience proves that I’m an awful writer, it seems I can’t get hold of that idea, nor do I think I’m ready to accept that reality. Maybe I’m wishing that if I keep writing, if I keep trying, my dream will come true. But maybe all dreams don’t come true, irrespective of the fact how much you try. And maybe this is what I am, and maybe I’m trying to be something I’m not…how can you succeed at that.

But then a part of my brain says: maybe I’m trying too hard. trying too hard to write what you can appreciate, what people can appreciate, what can be worthy enough , good enough to be called an art. And maybe I’m being too hard on myself, by judging what I write too harshly. And I believe that is the real cause of my problems, my worries, my feeling of failure in this area…that I’m not being myself. That I’m not trying to put into paper what I feel just the way it is, but editing and modifying it such that it matches some criteria to be good enough. In this editing maybe I loose what all I want too say. And I end up with this bundle of paper with soulless writing. Where I was trying to hard to be someone else, the writers I look up to.

But that is not at all the purpose of writing is it? I mean writing should be projecting yourself, your creativity and your thoughts on that paper. To put a part of you on a sheet, that won’t change with time, that won’t change with you, that won’t change with people. It just remains what it is, something just for yourself. Maybe that’s why I write, to put myself on that sheet, if I don’t I get suffocated, maybe I’m not trying to be a writer, I’m doing what gives me relief, what gives me peace. Peace to put down all the voices into your head in front of you so they finally make sense. Peace that when I read what I wrote, I don’t feel lonely, I don’t feel alienated but somehow find a way to identify myself with people , who are trying to find myself. That self that is changing every minute, to understand the only thing what I want, why I think the way I do, to know how  do I affect the lives of people around me (in a good way or bad). And I end up seeing in those insignificant lines that I’m like everyone…I want happiness, I want love, I want a sense of self respect, I want people to acknowledge and accept me as I am, I want to deal with loss, pain and confusion I have. That’s what everyone is trying to do here. That feeling of knowing that you fit in this world…maybe that what gives me pleasure of writing.

I don’t know whether that perspective will get me anywhere in life. But I’m kind of enjoying where I am right now. To know and to understand that life’s not fair to anyone. And I should accept it. Even I’ve not been fair to everyone, so why should I deserve anything else. Only when I accept that, I can see, that amidst this loss, pain and confusion (that I have lot, which you can guess by the number of times I use word ‘maybe’) there always was love, there was an understanding, I just didn’t see it. That part of life that kept me alive, that made me hope for a better tomorrow, which gave me the strength and patience to endure one another day even when days were hopeless. It was love of all these people I never thanked, and who didn’t need my thanks to be with me, that kept me alive, and through what I write I want to keep them alive, I want to keep alive the kindness people have shown me , I want to keep alive the smile and the embrace that made me feel worthy enough for all happiness, the small help I received from even the strangers. But then I also want to keep alive those who hurt me, those who weren’t worthy of words called “love” and “trust”, who back stabbed, who lied and cheated. I want to keep them alive so that someday, someone who feels lonely comes across these lines I wrote, and feel what I felt when I penned them down, the feeling that they fit in. That they are not alone. The way the poems I read, the books I read, the movies I saw gave me the very same feeling. The feeling that I’m not alone. If I can do that for someone, that would be the worth all the efforts I put into writing, and all the papers that found their way to trash.

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