the brother tale - I
There is dead skin around us all. In the form of dust. Around 60-70% is my estimate. We shed so much everyday, then it should really be easy to stay anew, afresh, burden free. So I think.
Staying with brother is comforting in a lot of ways. With room-mates I have always taken care to not express my irritation over things or general sulk over the day, which I manage to stock off for later use. With a cup of coffee and something to stare at, I normally take (used to take) all my space to get back to a more normal talking, jovial mood, after a grueling work day. Past 3 weeks have been hard on me. I have been working on weekends. Staying late nights. Taking all the injustice meted out (drama) in the form of unending waits for cabs. I have even cried after coming home. Not so much for the work load but over my helplessness with inefficient systems. Oh I am drawling.
The comfort of all this being, I get to sulk, shout like a wasp (I can squeak when really frustrated), throw tantrums, not be me. And brother retaliates. He doesn't listen, tells me I expect too much, or sometimes I take things specially work too seriously, he sulks too. It's funny if you think of it. Because we work in the kitchen after all this drama, giving each other attitude and then laugh it off. Its a fun exercise. Not to meditate to get rid of some growing up burdens, but to actually express it out and be done with it. He also brings a meetha paan for me to top it off. Oh and I take care of the kitchen counter cleaning.
The comfort being the constant does not change. That's a good hope.
Staying with brother is comforting in a lot of ways. With room-mates I have always taken care to not express my irritation over things or general sulk over the day, which I manage to stock off for later use. With a cup of coffee and something to stare at, I normally take (used to take) all my space to get back to a more normal talking, jovial mood, after a grueling work day. Past 3 weeks have been hard on me. I have been working on weekends. Staying late nights. Taking all the injustice meted out (drama) in the form of unending waits for cabs. I have even cried after coming home. Not so much for the work load but over my helplessness with inefficient systems. Oh I am drawling.
The comfort of all this being, I get to sulk, shout like a wasp (I can squeak when really frustrated), throw tantrums, not be me. And brother retaliates. He doesn't listen, tells me I expect too much, or sometimes I take things specially work too seriously, he sulks too. It's funny if you think of it. Because we work in the kitchen after all this drama, giving each other attitude and then laugh it off. Its a fun exercise. Not to meditate to get rid of some growing up burdens, but to actually express it out and be done with it. He also brings a meetha paan for me to top it off. Oh and I take care of the kitchen counter cleaning.
The comfort being the constant does not change. That's a good hope.
~nightflier
P.S. I don't feel weird telling everyone that I cry, because that's one signal that I care about a lot of stuff and get distressed over it :P It's a super power if you ask me!