Hakuna Matata

The word ‘priorities’ has been thrown around a lot in my life lately—by me, to me, etc. So, it seems only natural that I write something about it. I’m not sure what it will be but I’m hoping that it comes to me as I type.

Lots and lots of stuff have been happening in my life, I won’t deny it. My friends (and I, too) get surprised at the number of updates I have for them every time I see them (which is sometimes every day). But I’m not getting into all of that now. The point is that the last month or so has taught me about the importance of priorities. Apparently it decides a lot about your life, what you should do, who you should keep, where you should go and generally where your life is headed. And I don’t just mean what your priorities are, but where you figure in other people’s priorities too.

It’s pretty simple, isn’t it? For most of us, our jobs and careers are our first priorities. And this doesn’t just mean how much money you’re earning, or how awesome your company is, but also how happy you are at your job. Job satisfaction usually is the priority, or at least should be, because if you ain’t happy at the place you spend ten hours a day, five to six days a week, you’re a lil screwed, buddy.

It’s after the job bit that the confusion and trouble starts. If you tell your girlfriend/boyfriend that your job is your first priority, they can’t really complain (or at least shouldn’t). The trouble is with the lack of honesty in figuring your priorities. You can’t tell someone that s/he is your first and foremost priority but in reality, treat him/her like the garbage you forget to throw out. Job first, friends second, family third, fun, games and alcohol, fourth… and buried under many more such priorities is you—at number 137. Nice. No thanks, I’ll take my priorities elsewhere, please.

Lately, a number of people have told me that I’m looking happier than ever before (or at least in a long time). I did not see that coming. Some people attribute it to a certain major (once again) change that’s happened in my life, which technically should leave me unhappy, but isn’t—if that makes sense. Others attribute it to my new job (I am inclined to go with this one). There are a couple of other guesses which I’d rather keep off the blog for now. But the long and short of it is that apparently, I am finally prioritising myself—first. What I want to do, how I want to do it, and who I want to do it with—this comes before anything and anyone else. Lucky for me and them, my family and friends are extensions of my being—so my happiness comes only from having them around me.  

I don’t know what it is, but I have been feeling lighter lately—working hard and partying just as hard. I’ve been waiting around for some people to make me a priority for so long, that I guess I finally snapped—and it just doesn’t matter anymore. Will it ever matter again? Your guess is as good as mine. Till then, I intend to use this apparent happiness on my face to the benefit of my skin—you know what they say, right, if you’re happy from inside, your skin glows and all that. Let’s see if it works. Oh, and I watched Lion King recently and Hakuna Matata is stuck in my head. I’ll take that as a good sign J

Means no worries… for the rest of our days…

Mission happiness, apparently.

I should not call myself a blogger. Shame on me. In my defence, I literally have no time, and weekends are not for laptops and typing. Weak defence, I know.

So here we are again. Relationships all around me are crumbling—and by crumbling, I’m being polite. Misery indeed does love company, karma seems to agree with that. Why is it so difficult to maintain a relationship, especially when two people *claim* to be in love? Clearly, you’re not in love enough. People say, we’re in love, but love isn’t enough. In fact, I say that all the time. Well the truth, I think, is not that love isn’t enough; it’s just that your love isn’t enough to make it work. Because, call me idealistic, but if you really love someone in the *unconditional-swept-off-your-feet-inconvenient-delirious* sort of way, then won’t you move heaven and hell to make it work? To be with that person till your last breath? I realise that I sound dramatic and filmy, but that’s the kind of love I’d like to believe in. Not that it happens, least of all to me.

I recently read a meme that said “Unless it’s mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it’s a waste of time. There are too many mediocre things in life. Love should not be one of them.” I could not agree more.

When you’re with someone, that someone should make you feel like you’re “the only girl (or guy) in the world” (courtesy, Rihanna)—that you’re beautiful, caring, passionate, fun and just the best thing that ever happened to that person. Unfortunately, much of our self-worth is dependent on the *certain someone* in our lives. Unfair and terrible I know, but true (deny it all you want). But the truth also is that if the person you’re with makes you feel any less, then perhaps this is not the person meant for you. Or perhaps you are not the person meant for him/her. And if the feelings you are feeling about yourself, being with this person, is negative or veering in that direction, walk away. Take that walk of reason and walk away—you’ll do both a favour and give yourself and your *certain someone* a chance at happiness with someone else. To feel good about yourself with someone who will make you feel like that.

When s/he looks at you, you should feel the connection, the tingle running through your body like electricity—no matter how long you’ve been together. If you’re in public and s/he touches you lightly, you should want to leave and rush home to tear each other’s clothes off. S/he should be the first and last person you want to see every day, and also the first person you want to talk to if anything major or not-so-major happens. Doesn’t sound that difficult, right? Wrong. Apparently, asking for love, intimacy, loyalty, compromise and other such things in a relationship is like asking someone to squeeze water out of a diamond ring. Random analogy.

And then there are the distractions—a sureshot sign that it’s time to move on. These distractions can be anything from your friends, some unhealthy substances or a new person. This is tricky, because whatever you do is, at the end of the long-ass day, your decision and your consequences. Good luck with that.

Unfortunately, the decision to pick up the pieces of your broken heart and move on with your life, possibly with someone new, is not an easy game. In the real world, especially when you’re an outsider fending for yourself, many other practical factors come into play. So do you concentrate on mending your broken heart, moving on, or fixing the logistics of your life? All of them together, it seems. Joy.

So here’s how I cope, or should cope, or plan to cope. I will do what makes me happy, comfortable and makes me smile. That may mean being with my friends till the point that they want to kick me out of their homes; eating lots of chocolate, red velvet cupcakes and chai, following it up with a strenuous hour at the gym (cos, you know, you’re back in the market and you gotta look good too, right? The parents are going to start asking you for your ‘nice’ photos, whatever that means); or flirting with that new person who sends shivers down to your… err… spine.

So often I’ve been told, “Happiness is intrinsic; unless you’re happy, you can’t make anyone else happy. That’s what I do, and so should you.” Point taken, me lord! Hunting now for the happiness within, no matter what and how that may be done. Awrighty then. Mission happiness is underway.