TOXIC PRODUCTIVITY AND IMPULSIVE DECISIONS
In the next few minutes, you’ll know exactly why I’m here. Not talking about my existence… aren’t we all still looking for an answer to that? hahaha. Alright, evidently I’m not one with humor (contrary to what I feel about myself, considering the narcissist that I am :’) ). And throughout this narrative, you’re gonna witness me desperately attempting to be a comedian (can’t wait to read this again a year from now and throw myself far away in the pacific ocean). Hope you have a great time watching me expose myself as if there’s no tomorrow. Well, I’m habitual to creating difficult situations for myself. I’m a devotee of making questionable decisions that would keep me up at night, only for me to blame it on insomnia because that’s so much more convenient to explain LMAO. Making irreversible choices has been a part of my identity for quite a while now. Most often I’ve been part of conversations that start with “ Remember when Anoushka did that embarrassing thing?”, well in my defense, at some point that “thing” seemed like a damn great idea in my head! Judgement? Logic? Sense? Definitely not the words I put a lot of thought into while growing up. But I made the most of it.
It all really started in school, when all the other kids were discovering themselves and gloating over their talents. Meanwhile, I was discovering ways to tell my mom why I failed my math test yet again after switching three tutors and constantly stressing her out because of how slow I was. Ah! to good ol’ days. Well, watching these kids be good at things really inflicted a lot of pressure on me. Or I tried to feel pressured because I wanted to be a normal kid with interests and hobbies. Clearly I was a late bloomer when it came to being the insanely creative and talented person that I am today! (Sorry, but I warned you about my narcissism in the beginning). With the aim of being less of a disappointment to my parents, I tried to pick a hobby. It wasn’t the easiest road to walk considering I was late to the party and had to start from scratch….. But I didn’t waste much time dwelling upon it. I put my finger on the first thought that crossed my mind ( I didn’t really let it cross my mind. I made it stay right there, because you see, that’s how desperate I was at this point). So finally after hours and days of thinking….. that I avoided, I decided to learn how to play the guitar. And trust me, the excitement I felt when I bought my first guitar (and the only one) matched no other. That excitement was like the flame of an undisturbed candle. How? It takes 7 hours for a candle to fully burn out. That’s how long it took for me to get over that thrill. Naturally, I grew out of the fascination because of the Diva attitude instilled in me. But I live by a basic rule in life, “No matter what happens, we gotta move”. So I did. I moved……… boldly to another dreadful decision.
By this time I was old enough to realize that my significance in the society is directly proportionate to how talented or creative I was. And my undying need to be liked and accepted by people could NEVER let me be mundane. So I had to come up with a better plan this time, one that I’d stick to. Obviously, having had past experiences with impulsive decisions and following consequences, I decided to ignore them and make another one (I am who I am!). This time it was a keyboard. The reason all my “interests” revolve around music is because I have fooled myself and everyone else into believing that I can sing. In all honesty, I’m still a struggling bathroom singer. So we got a tutor who taught me how to play the keyboard and helped me sound less like a dehydrated crow. With time, the phrase “Old habits die hard” started to make a lot of sense to me. I want to say that my keyboard still works, but I really wouldn’t know. Its as good as a fossil now. Not that I didn’t try to learn it on my own, but we already know I’m a little slow in the learning area. The disappointment on my dad’s face every time it comes to the keyboard should have smacked some empathy into me, but I’ve grown a thick skin, that not even a chainsaw can rupture. And so, once again, I decided to move….
This time was a lot different though. I was in college. There is no exaggeration when I say that everyone around me was crazy talented. To be honest, it made me feel a tad bit insecure. I was afraid of not being able to fit in. The pressure started building up again. Almost felt like I HAD to be extraordinary in order to be accepted. I don’t know what went right, but things worked out just perfectly for me. Regardless of how much I despise the thought of college, it has opened doors for me. It really knocked the pricey diva out of me. Or maybe not completely. I hate to admit it, but the toxic feeling of constantly having to be productive punched, kicked and Batista-slammed me out of my comfort zone. It made me do things I never thought I’d consider doing. I started writing when I was in the 11th grade, but I never thought I could be good at it. Having the people that I have around me, inspired me. It gave me the zeal to be better at whatever I thought I was good at. Fortunately, I did get better. At this point, people’s expectations from me skyrocketed. Obviously, all this admiration was too much to handle. It felt like I had just won the Nobel Prize for not being garbage. But I managed. Moreover, I took it upon myself to be the pride of the family. Its not easy when your only constant hobby is talking to the pigeons sitting in your balcony, only for them to throw unnecessary tantrums at you. Well it still haunts me sometimes, knowing that I’m still as slow as I was as at the age of 13. And at the age of 14… and at 15…… you get the point! I still stay up some nights contemplating all the obscure decisions I continue to make because old habits in fact die hard and the diva in me is forever problematic.
