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Oh free Sunday

It’s 5:00 in the evening. I’m sitting at my desktop with both the terrace doors wide open. It’s windy outside. I had an epiphany when I was finishing my chai and so I decided to make a blog post out of it. Today’s possibly the freest Sunday I’m going to have in a long time –  until far, far November.

College has reopened and much as I am still hungover from the month long vacation, I am really excited about this semester. I have always had a school-girl fascination with new beginnings no matter how much I hated the endings. When college closed for vacation this April, I thought I’d roll on the floor and cry when it reopened in June. Turns out, I am a romantic like that. Nothing can make me hate my job. Nothing can make me hate my desk at work. And one month is enough to make me miss having a job and waking up to it every single day.

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Image Credits – http://www.relatably.com

I remember having an epiphany at Meta this year. Something about spaces having more meaning than people and how Meta has gone beyond people. Similar feelings are happening off for my job also. It is coming around to mean a lot more than it did a couple of months ago. It has gone beyond people and maybe even beyond me.

In other news, I’ve discovered a great way to blackmail myself into writing. I’d already bought The Private Life of Mrs. Sharma on Kindle when I was just finishing Cat’s Eye. And I told myself not to start reading it unless I finished writing about Cat’s EyeThis was especially hard because I was dying to read TPLOMS. I read an extract and it made me giggle and fall about everywhere. I felt threatened in those four long days it took me to finish writing about Cat’s Eye. 

It’s a sick thing to do but I am not complaining. I’m bearing the sweet fruits now, aren’t I? Spent the whole afternoon giggling under my bed sheet, reading TPLOMS. 

I’m also back to watching New Girl. Ransacked Seasons 4 and 5 in three days – also got suspiciously teary-eyed at Schmidt and Cece’s wedding. Damn you, Jessica Day. I love you more and more with each passing episode.

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Image Credits – pinterest.com

I don’t really care about the epiphany I had when I began writing this post anymore. What was it anyway? That today’s probably the freest Sunday I’m going to have? That’s alright. I am going to bed with Mrs. Sharma and Jessica Day tonight so it’s totes worth it 🙂

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In Between

Pica and other disorderliness.

All of yesterday was spent moving all my posts from blogger to here. I had to ditch moving some of my earlier posts because I physically and psychologically couldn’t do it. Bleh. All my grand plans for the vacation are now sitting and bathing in their own filth. I haven’t started work on any of the things that I was supposed to. Haven’t started on my great reading list yet, I’m not even writing regularly. I have 25 free days exactly before college reopens and I become enslaved to time and its violation of my body and mind. I have spent a month of my free time doing nothing. I wake up really late because summer takes ugly liberties with my sleep cycle and now that it has also fraternized with bed bugs, I cannot sleep until 3 in the morning, which means I can only wake up at 9:00 after which  my day just dissolves into guilt followed by mushy laziness involving slumping on bed trying to discover new postures which relieve my neck/back pain, romancing with the idea of writing or reading and then laughing my ass off while watching new girl.

New on the list is my new found super secretive smoking activity which, quite frankly leaves me more tensed than relieved. Because it involves the herculean task of locking the door and double checking the lock, opening other doors and windows trying to make room for ventilation, all the while hoping nobody smells what I am doing, lighting 2 dhoops, each placed strategically at the corner of the entrance, one incense stick right next to where I am supposed to be sighing and playing with rings of smoke, while actually looking nervously at the door every time I sense movement, acting like a fucking cat. This is so not done. I hate being a cat in my own  room. Nevertheless, I found the perfect time and place to do it which is evidently after house people go to sleep and I become the dark knight in my balcony.

In the mornings, my detective alter ego finds major orgasm in sneaking into the puja room to satiate my pica disorder. There is this massive round chunk of god knows what but is white and gray and extremely chalk/stone/vibhooti like that makes that crunchy chunky noise every time I devour it. I’m not half as excited for chocolate or crab or even sex damn it! The taste of mud in my mouth is what my teeth is grateful for. The bitter sweet meet of concrete and calcium in my mouth is what I live for. I reserve similar feelings for paint, dust and slate pencils. My best so far has been the plain white slate chalk because it is followed by 100% satisfaction and lesser guilt ridden behavior. The only good thing about this summer has been my seemingly full and final de-addiction from the regular dose of Gilmore Girls. It hasn’t been replaced but I am watching new stuff, like New girl so yaay!

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The women

Robin Scherbatsky came into my life like much needed bacon on mornings that eggs aren’t allowed to be eaten at home, like Saturdays. My bacon reference is because she was fresh from what I had been stalking until then. Lorelai Gilmore, Rachel Green blah blah blah… I like these women because they brought to me more than just whom they were dating. I don’t mean the strong, rounded characters and other such bull here, speaking of which what the fuck is a rounded character? What does it mean? That they are round? Heard too much of that. Anyhow, for a long time those were the women I wanted to be like.

I liked Rachel Green because she snapped out of her secure world of daddy’s yacht and credit cards and being rich orthodontist’s wife and became her own person much like Lorelai Gilmore. These women stepped out of a rich world to see if they could survive and they did. Naïve, I know. There are 100 different scenarios doing kathak in my head right now. Don’t get me wrong, I know that these are plastic women and white. But that doesn’t stop pampered spoilt girls like me from dreaming about breaking out of our own shells and becoming independent.

Robin I grew fond of,  because she had the courage to turn down what could have been the perfect love life for her because it got in the way of who she was and her work. No matter how deep the promise of romance was – stability, faithfulness, consistency and all that crap. She still said no. It takes not just courage but an immense understanding and respect for the self to do that. And that is the woman I want to be like. Why am I still appreciating women who are able to do that? Because I’m still not able to do that and I don’t know how long it is going to be before I can.

Finding self can be a pain in the ass. And I couldn’t be in a better position to tell you why. There are so many things to choose from, so many things that define you. It’s crazy. Do I want to be the girl who found true love at 16 and got married to him happily ever after? Do I want to be the girl who has an hour of brilliant love making session and then leaves immediately after? Am I strong enough to be in an open relationship? What the fuck does open mean anyway?  

I do know that I cannot get physically intimate with somebody without falling head over heels madly in love with them. That also means I do not want to marry them and have their kids. That also means I cannot casually date them. That also means I cannot see them once a week, make love and then go off. I value connections. I value relationships so what the fuck am I?

Right when I was in the middle of this horseshit, I met Jessica day. She didn’t change my life and all that but I stopped taking myself all too seriously. I think it had something to do with the fact that Jess is far different from any of the characters I usually look up to. She isn’t in the least bit independent, cannot do one night stands, wants love and care, gives people blankets and homemade cup cakes before starting a conversation with them; likes ribbons and adores pink, doesn’t think it’s necessary to stand up to herself at all, smiles her way out of difficult situations and is very touchy-feely.

For somebody who has been mesmerised with Robin’s non touchy feely diktat, Jessica may come off as blah… but that’s the great thing about New Girl. It acknowledges the need for creating strong and independent women characters but also gives you a taste of Jess who is real and independent in her own weird ways. She’s flesh and bones and believable. She reinstates certain girly things in ways that you will not want to question because, so what?

She likes pink, she likes blanket-cupcake during conversations, she likes passing around what is called a ‘feel-stick’ to allow people to share their feelings (remember she is a teacher) and she’s not ashamed. In some ways, she seems to be asking you the question ‘does revolution have to come only by hating pink’? She can be touchy feely and still be the most amazingly in touch with herself.

This is what I have picked up from watching 14 episodes of New Girl. That it’s ok to not have everything figured out yet, that I don’t have to be like just one of these characters. I can choose to be who I want to be each day. There are so many to pick from. I owe this person a huge thank you for making me see that I don’t have to take myself so seriously. I can just chill for now.