I have a very special spot for the song that goes by this title. Bill Withers sings this. I've heard it in the movie Notting Hill. Not quite my daily cup of tea when it comes to movies. I do love the scene in the movie though; you see all the seasons in one shot... I am no real fan of movies. I find their realities stupid. Depressing sometimes. Maybe its because I started probably before I even knew what a movie was by watching various Indian movies. I still don't get why and how people watch those wretched things. I admire the ability of the folks who produce that garbage and make a lot of money on them. Many, many countries are spanned in the process of a movie. Hell, one stupid song in an Indian movie probably takes you to Australia, Switzerland and New York. Those seem to be the staple places to prance about.
Anyway, I am not here writing about Bollywood. This one is personal. The song is true you know. There really is no sunshine once she's gone. I have no idea what I am going to do. I just keep hearing the same song over and over and over. And it brings new meaning to it every time I hear it. But I will with hope. iHope s a great thing you know. Millions of people the world over clung onto this abstract thing called hope... freedom was won that way. August 15, 1947 was the culmination of so many such hopes. Of generations of people who probably died not knowing what that hope really ended up being. Although, I am not sure that what they hoped for did indeed happen.
Life is strange that way you know. Once upon a time, I loved life. Now I dread it. There is a saying attributed to some television show... it goes something like this: everyday is the worst day of my life. I feel like that. My daily existence is just a bunch of replays of old memories and what-ifs. What if I did that instead of that... what if I didn't do that... what if I hadn't woken up that day. As I write this, I have on my desk 3 little black and white pictures of (what is in my mind anyway), the perfect couple. I wrote about them recently and how I attended their wedding. I am so happy for them. And at some level, just a tad jealous. And I wish them the very best.
What am I going to do? I am going to learn. Learn from this. Get back to writing beautiful (my buddy Steve would call it elegant) code. Make something. That only exists in the bits and bytes world. My IDE is ready. Its my canvas. I already have the sound track to the rest of my life picked out. Now all that remains is for the masterpiece to make an appearance. And then I can slowly wither away and die a slow and painless death. Or rise. From the ashes. And find the sunshine again.
Anyway, I am not here writing about Bollywood. This one is personal. The song is true you know. There really is no sunshine once she's gone. I have no idea what I am going to do. I just keep hearing the same song over and over and over. And it brings new meaning to it every time I hear it. But I will with hope. iHope s a great thing you know. Millions of people the world over clung onto this abstract thing called hope... freedom was won that way. August 15, 1947 was the culmination of so many such hopes. Of generations of people who probably died not knowing what that hope really ended up being. Although, I am not sure that what they hoped for did indeed happen.
Life is strange that way you know. Once upon a time, I loved life. Now I dread it. There is a saying attributed to some television show... it goes something like this: everyday is the worst day of my life. I feel like that. My daily existence is just a bunch of replays of old memories and what-ifs. What if I did that instead of that... what if I didn't do that... what if I hadn't woken up that day. As I write this, I have on my desk 3 little black and white pictures of (what is in my mind anyway), the perfect couple. I wrote about them recently and how I attended their wedding. I am so happy for them. And at some level, just a tad jealous. And I wish them the very best.
What am I going to do? I am going to learn. Learn from this. Get back to writing beautiful (my buddy Steve would call it elegant) code. Make something. That only exists in the bits and bytes world. My IDE is ready. Its my canvas. I already have the sound track to the rest of my life picked out. Now all that remains is for the masterpiece to make an appearance. And then I can slowly wither away and die a slow and painless death. Or rise. From the ashes. And find the sunshine again.
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