Friday, January 24, 2014

Q and A

It has been the most confusing week so far and sadly,  confusion does not intrigue me as much as arbitrariness or ambiguity does, because those two at least leave some room for hope. Confusion on the other hand, splats you alternatingly,  across a room with a hot and a cold wall. It is hard to react properly to such a room. 

Don't try this at home. 

I don't know why I just wrote that. I don't think anyone can try that at home, unless they are mad scientists. 

So at the face of this confusion I tried to put some order into my life by writing out the goals I wanted to accomplish. This was a mistake. 

Here's why: 
Agenda 1: Update Yourself To A Better Version.

Q: And how do you plan to do this? 

A. Make an effort, give a shit about the sorry excuse you have for a life. 

Q. I am sensing a lot of anger here. 

A. Is that a real question? because D-uh! 

Q. Why didn't you go to work today? 

A. Because it's too cold outside. And I'm not feeling well. 

Q. Well, don't you think you're already failing at "making an effort"? 

A. Not really, my boss said "sure" when I mailed her asking if I could work from home. Besides, I really did experience cramps in the morning. 

Q. Are you working from home then?

A. I will start soon, I'm most productive under pressure, in the evenings especially. 

Q. What do you plan to do in the evening? 

A. Continue with the situational analysis that I'm supposed to be doing, which is super boring by the way. 

Q. Life can't always be eventful & interesting. 

A. And your question is? 

Q. I don't have any, I'm simply stating a fact. I think that is the real problem here. 

A. What is? 

Q. That you are so opposed to routine and anything remotely boring. 

A. Isn't that normal? 

Q. Not in the adult world, it's not. 

A. So all I have to do to be a grown up is not to be opposed to boredom? 

Q. Yeah, a part of it is, yes. 

A. Is that going to make me successful? 

Q. It might just. So you're asking the questions now? 

A. Sorry I just thought you were done with yours. 

Q. Don't confuse the order. I am named Q and you are named A for a reason. 

A. But what if that just stands for Aqua and Quebec? Those are cool names for us no? 

Q. Stop trying to take over my job. 

A. You aren't even attempting to be good at it. 

~sigh~ 

This is what an ongoing mental dialogue inside my head sounds like. 

I like to think of it as my very own form of dysfunctional poetry. But sometimes when Q and A really start to squabble? it begins to sound like I'm residing in  a war torn savage nation that would do anything for a little peace. 

My peace is not white. It is silver and classy as hell. And I love it when I can see it from a mile. I almost want to run right to it. But it takes so long to arrive sometimes that instead of leaping to it I do a lazy jig towards it...because I want to savour every bit of it while it lasts. 

So I treat the restless slumber, the sharp ring of the door  bell in the morning that interrupts tremulous   sleep when she'd  finally let me in to her palace, the constant nagging sense of foreboding at the back of my mind, the umpteen number of moments that my computer decides to crash at the verge of a very important plot twist in Doctor Who, being unable to find the perfect tardis blue handbag (it exists, it must)   and the tremendous  irritation all of  this evokes, with a pinch of salt. (Said list is of course not exhaustive). Massive pinches in fact.

 I keep telling myself Q and A won't succeed to derail me so completely, some day. Some day, they will just be Quebec and Aqua, incongruous silly names...And  fluffy,  silvery tufts of more important message bearing clouds  must be floating right  around the corner. 

Friday, January 17, 2014

But You Only Need The Light When It's Burning Low.

I received a card from my Optometrist. A New Year's Card. It had a picture of the Goddess Lakshmi on it. She was riding a tiger with wings. This is my first happy new year card... ever. Is that odd? Is it odd that I'm writing about it like its a big deal? I don't know. I got a little reflective, pensive even..and started going  through my stuff from the year that's been  and found this bit of writing that I'd done on New Year's eve and completely forgotten about: 





I'd written this at the fag end of a spiraled note book I'd carry to work every day. It had mostly work stuff and then suddenly I wanted that diary to stop being so damn hoity toity about itself and I wrote my actual thoughts on it. I don't know why I'd willed myself to forget about this.

 Growing up I'd write plenty on my life in journals I'd unimaginatively name "Secret Diary". And that night something in me wanted to go back, be a kid and just plain bitch about things and refuse to even pretend that I'm a mature adult.  I'm reproducing my writing here: 

"Hello! 

Welcome to the land of almost over diary. You are at the weird phase where you only have a few more pages left. Your owner thinks nothing substantial can really be begun or ended here. Well, look at her defying herself!! It's late and she suddenly feels the need to put pen on paper. 

Also she must stay up to ensure she and her mom don't get robbed. It would be a little anticlimactic if the noises heard from the empty apartments upstairs do as a fact, turn out to be coming from thieves with guns who are planning to shoot their door down in the middle of the night, as conjectured by her mother.(And I wonder why I'm so imaginative about anything happening in the real world). 

I have no idea why I'm talking about us in the third person.I guess it's because it makes us sound like more number of people than we really are: two. Two is supposed to be the most romantic number but for us mother and daughter it kind of signifies how hopelessly single we both are. 

Look at me getting all up on your face about being single within the first page of I-don't-know-what-this-is midnight writing. 

The issues that bother me are so mundane that I sometimes bore myself. That's why I read. Some days I read as many as ten books at a time and I hope and pray that I'm never in a place where I've finished all my reading all at once. Then the world would suddenly turn very dark because  that's my definition of an apocalypse.  So I keep starting new reading assignments. 

(random rant about colleagues who were apparently bugging me a lot back then. They don't anymore. So it would be a little daft of me to reproduce that bit too.)

It's 31st December...and I'm extremely ready for 2014 to come over and sweep me off my feet. But time hardly ever does that. I think Time thinks that kind of romance is over-rated. As do I, now that I think about it. So maybe don't sweep me off my feet 2014...maybe just cuddle? Cuddling is good. " 

If that night had a theme song it would be this:



Cut to 17 days into 2014...

things are starting to make better sense.Dare I say,  Maybe even  falling into their places? I don't know. I'm not actively doing anything, I swear. Just letting it be. Maybe I always really just needed to let it be... 


I'm sending massive amounts of hugs and love your way, dear Readers. 

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Spaces.

Hello. 

I don't know if you read my blog or follow it, so I'm not quite sure if I should mention the large number of days that have passed since I've posted anything; because that somehow brings on this added pressure of coming back with brilliant epiphanies that I experienced  while being disengaged  from the interwebs. (I have no idea why I just wrote interweb in place of internet). 

To be honest though, I was right here the whole time. I'd just given up on being purposeful about thoughts, feelings, incidences and other such tidbits that are supposed to comprise life. I let them float into the  mind, act their parts out and leave, like stage actors in a rehearsal...this couldn't possibly be the real thing, I said to myself. So I sat back and decided not to do a thing about well..anything. 

This reminds me of  these little puppies I keep stumbling into  on a particular route. They  look up at me drowsily if I ever dare to interrupt their snooze time/Tanning sessions in the afternoon sun. The first time I said a tentative hello to one of them he started to crawl into a safe place away from my ginormous shadow...and then promptly fell asleep mid crawl.

 I left. 

My mind is snoozing mid-crawl, at the moment. By moment, I really just mean a stretchy time period that may last as long as it wants to. I'm not fighting this, because I'm tired of fights. In fact, that's my key focus area  for the New Year : 

  • Kindness.
  • And a strict dental regime. 


These are not resolutions, just things I'm going to at least try to be serious about,  to get me through my days. 

If this blog post is boring you, and I'm positive it is, please accept this scrap of news that makes too much cosmic sense to me,  to not post on this blog: 

Source: http://www.messynessychic.com/2013/05/06/in-memory-of-the-real-life-marge-simpson/ She died on 22.04.2013. I think I re-read this obituary at least a dozen times. 
And just to prove that I really mean an apology, especially if it has something to do with me inflicting boredom on you, Here's a link that takes you to Marge Simpson dressed as famous style icons.

Please bear with me, this is the best I can do for now.