Suffocating Sundays

Pacing in the drawing room, as that’s the only room I prefer to live in through the summers, I spend my days. I sit, stand up, walk and sit down again. The drawing room is my kingdom in the sweltering heat of the desert Karachi seems to be turning into. Since this season is also associated with exams, the most important ones of the year, I pretend to study in the drawing room. In fact, that is why I chose this room to live in, in the first place – I thought studying there would be easier. It was, in the first year. It really seemed so. But now… it just isn’t, bluntly speaking. Blunt – it’s a great word. It sounds so blunt, it gives a blunt feeling that vividly imparts how blunt one feels. So it’s also ironic, perhaps. Or was it oxymoronic? Okay, this really isn’t how I should be at this time of the year because I have an English exam in two months!

Anyway, I was talking about the drawing room and how it no longer seems like Jasmine’s part of the palace. I stack up my books in my drawing room and papers too. Lots of them. It looks like a study but that’s hardly what I do there now. I realized weeks ago that I no longer study there, but it was only today that I realized what exactly I do there. I pace around the room, sit down on one of the sofas, gaze into the sunlight streaming in through the windows; contemplate on how hot it actually is and compare the bougainvilleas I can see on the window opposite mine, to roses. Yes, the bougainvilleas belong to the people who live in the house opposite mine, since nobody in my family has the patience for gardening. I love flowers and all, my childhood fantasy was having a rose garden but I rediscovered this fantasy only days ago, while doing a yoga routine. Yeah, that depicts how much importance I’ve given to the idea in the past few years.

So yeah, we were talking about Sundays. No, I was supposed to talk about Sundays since I titled this post accordingly. I like being blunt. Being blunt on Sundays, because that’s how Sundays are: boring, bleak and blunt. I love power of three, whoever designed this technique in the English Language, must have been amazing. Or well, very fond of details and repetition in the very least.

Redirecting my attention to Sundays, I hate them. They make me feel disoriented, just as this post sounds. I get bored, can’t concentrate on anything, there’s nothing good on TV. I also feel morose for absolutely no reason and that frustrates me, which further leads to stress. And some more stress when I realize that I could be doing severe damage to the mood centers in my brain. In fact I believe I HAVE already done the damage and that’s why this happens to me with a greater intensity each coming Sunday. I think I’m only left with the anger/depression center and perhaps only a molecule of the happiness center. This certainly goes for Sundays, if not other days.

P.S. I’m also certain that I have ADD (Attention Deficit Ooh shiny!) I change my train of thought a little too often and ‘shiny’ corresponds to not only physically shiny objects but also shiny thoughts, metaphorically speaking. Shiny train tracks for my trains of thought, if you will.

Oh and, thanks for bearing with me. Have a great Sunday, or what’s left of it J