Darned Lil Pimple

It’s the stroke of midnight! I’m trying pretty hard to stay awake, sip guava juice, not pinch my pimple and not think of the pending work or the creativity drowned in a pile of sleep. Zzzzzzz… and suddenly I wake up to the soft mechanical twirls of the ceiling fan and the electric whine of the refrigerator… my night companions. Would I rather be in a log cabin sitting into wee hours of the morning listening to that rattling wall lizard and a distant hoot of an owl? Someone slap me when I pinch this pimple again. I am as irritating and idiotic as our 5-month-old-beagle Miss Apple, who every now and then chases her own tail in circles, bites it and lets out a shrill, high pitched yelp. Cuteness! I should tell you about how passionately she chases her ball, bumps into the door and then perks up all alert as her hound self should be on hearing the bump!

Zzzzz… and now I wake up to Princess Ascutta raving about some vague upcoming celebrations.. Its getting harder to keep my eyes open… But I decided that starting right now, I’m gonna let this keypad beat my larynx in getting words out of my system. That’s the point of this blogging exercise. Unleash my thoughts on the world at large, give my throat some rest. Quiet nice?

There! I pinched my pimple again. And the damn thing still doesn’t peel off my cheek. Wonder if you wondered how similar a tortured mind is to a ripe pimple. Torturous thoughts like pus, squirming to explode yet lying there glinting in their incandescent evil till their grotesque emancipation. Both are deep rooted, usually. And most people, like me, have the instinctive urge to burst the pimple when they see it. Yours or theirs. Torturous thoughts interestingly have hormonal foundations just like the pimples. I haven’t quite researched on this, but this just may be the beginning of a very deep psycho-somatic connection that drives millions of women on this planet. Really. This may be a nexus which if not understood may just drive millions of men crazy. Now now. Hormonal women are not just a handful, but form the crux of civilized womankind.

Much can be said in a volley of words about the incandescence of the tortured mind. It just burns in your insides starting the four corners of your troubled head like a blazing conflagration that can’t be doused, consuming every bit of peace and sanity until every cell within your body-fortress screams and revolts in mutinous agony. Hmmm… pretty graphic, ain’t it? An emergency contraception pill pack, incidentally, also boasts of the same physiological side-effects. This, I say, is quite ironic, given normally most young men and women buy emergency contraception as a result of a tortured mind…

What really fuels the tortured mind? Is it grief? Is it internal strife? Rejection? Many beings in this planet have theorized this in grandiose treatises, in take your pick of fields – medical, psychological, emotional and spiritual publications. Actually, it’s simpler to analyze what fuels a pimple. Hormones, dirty/oily skin, stress and lack of sleep.

Sheesh! Its 12.30 now and I’m filled with admiration for this stubborn little pimple rooted so sternly in my facial pore that it refuses to peel off. I shall remember to let this inspire me the next time I try and look within for backups in staying power.