Wonder if conditioning is a tool to zap one into the vicious cycle. And the darn vicious cycle seems to be happiness. The bledy flock of happiness for every occassion...its presence felt in its existence and its lack. Happiness is a fat lump of drugged bubblegum stuck up in cloud 9. Sadness has a heart. It breaches the gap and keeps egging us on towards happiness...closer, closer.
Is to want what a lot of other people want conditioning or normal? Or is normal conditioning or vice versa?
I want to travel the world, want to belong, write travelogues, work on my autobiography trashing all those nincompoops I let trot over me at one vulnerable point of time, want to do whatever cause I want to do whatever. Wanna be a bar tender, a broadway dancer, a corporation school teacher. Wanna start a school, a wildlife reserve, get madras corporation to mix rubber into tar while laying roads. Wanna save tigers, sharks and olive ridley turtles, get stung by a harmless jellyfish. Wanna play the bass guitar, play the veena, and sing! sing! sing! Wanna make chocolates and desserts like Vianne Rocher from Chocolat. Wanna crack knuckles of those who litter and throw stones at otters, thwack apathetic people, yell gibberish at my dean. Wanna dream, catch them lil pixies and move on. Wanna a real awesome romance, with wedding at a church in the lake district, a daughter, adopt a son, a dozen dogs, an awesome library, lots of love and cuddles and contentment that makes it all so atwood like "I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed & that necessary" and of course with a smattering of squabbles...friction makes life interesting.
I have an estranged relationship with the last wanna. There's this constant doubt if that's conditioning. Sometimes I can't justify my phobia of conditioning but then it's a phobia. The other thing that plagues me is whether I'll be able to do all the above wannas and more if the last wanna happens. Being a total sucker for love, happiness and One fine day movies (this is a serious problem...addicted to the drasted bubble gum of a drug and this is such a clever ploy of the creators play...there is no AA no Ataraxia Annonymous to run to) I am worried that I'd turn out to be a Violet Beauregarde and chew on it and chew on it and chew on it. And never move on. Never live my dreams unless the jelly fish incident happens by default when we're off on vacation. oh fie!
Singular, alone-liker, unfettered dreamer is gonna have some serious issues with moma and papa and the bledy hordes (relatives who swarm you at every family get together and rattle of questions about getting kicked out of your very own home asap!)
Is there a love that can let you be? Aah well, or else p'dner we could stick to our plan ;-)
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There is this problem when all you want is everything and all that everything should be so simple to have, because they are all very simple wants and maybe it's so simple it has to seem like a dream, fragile, intangible, material that exists lightly between the fingers, lightly so you can feel it and yet not really hold it in case it tears, or melts, disintegrates or dies, the way my best friend held his breath when his ex gf fell asleep on his lap, too scared he might wake and lose her if he exhaled...
You will have everything. There are few I know who could deserve it more. And that's reason enough.
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