Ring in the good times

To change, happiness , freedom from bad haircuts and love despite.

In hope,

--S.

The problem

The problem with telling yourself you can and you should take care of everything yourself, is that when you need to ask for help, there are only so many people you will allow yourself to turn to.

And specific people for specific things. I dont want to worry about the loss of power equations anymore. Not with everyone and everything.

Yes, I am ok and fine and I can handle everything splendidly.


there is no one to ask, sometimes.


Good days abound, minor transgressions into nothingness and ennui and halfhearted attempts. Nothing to write about. I even stuck my head into the grass for over twenty minutes today, and I didn't hear it grow. But the wind and the leaves sounded like the sea, when you closed your eyes.

pretty day. pretty boring day too.

It has been a week since college started and all I've done is eat and eat and eat. And generally had a blast, just going out and spending time with many friends and whiled away all my time in a state of mirth and inertia.

Not to say though that interesting, rather interesting things havent occured, or that there hasn't been anything to blog about. Lifechangingtype events have occured in fact. nicely.

The reason this three line post is up, though, is because I have bunked a Yacoob lecture on Labour Rights to prepare for enviro class, which I forgot to do last night. Last night I just slept. ( Also I have been sleeping a lot)

Regular blogging resumes from evening.

musings

Was this how it always was? I dont seem to recall so many memories sandwiched between layers. Nothing has changed as much as the way I look at these things, these people, these events.There has been hi-hello ing and unpacking and sharing of news and talk of those new haircuts and the latest round of -over- the -holidays- gossip.

not to mention some intense late night mess conversations with Mu and V and a very interesting junior. Apathy, disillusionment, hostel justice?!, diversity, bias -- such everyday law school worries, these.



hello.

Its a happy peaceful feeling. hours, routines, timings, bells, work.

the people are there. there are things to do. news will follow, i suppose.

nightmare # 56798

I wish that title were sarcastic, witty, perhaps a snide reference to a conversation or simply a morbid outlook on my life when I have everything and more to do and the deadline is tomorrow.
Unfortunately, it isn't. There are a few times in life when one wishes for exams and deadlines and piles of laundry. Anything, but having to wake up from a private hell of emotions and fears.


Its now 23: 27 as I write this and I have just woken up from a nightmare and will probably spend the rest of the night too scared to sleep and too worried to rest.


I think this should stop. These random horrific scenarios which involve unspeakables are very tiring. ( and I would tell you, I would, only a blog can take only so much objectionable ontent, and I've already made so many typos, that I qualify for that)


For now, in the dark, having woken up my parents and feeling like I'm a three year old, I decided that orkut and blogger might help some. I am scared.

I do not wish to fall asleep to that again. I'd rather wake up to things I can deal with, like selvam sir's organic chemistry q, papers, and idlis, and terrible weather, and lots of laundry and nothing nice to wear.

i feel such a child sometimes.

( if this post sounds disjointed or non coherent, it is because I have been unsettled these waking minutes, and also I am sleepy)

Changes

It has been a fair amount of time since I have started this blog and now it seems that it is as much dependent on me, as I am on it.

When I did start writing, it was with a lot of enthusiasm. And confusion.
With the wisdom of some time and many more vignettes - I have decided to change two details in the 'about me', that you'll find above the page.

Not that I don't anymore, its just, now there are margins of doubt which creep in. And also, not believing doesn't alter my life in any ridiculously large manner.

The joy of unrealised beliefs. The joy of disregarding them.

wring hands in despair

About the changed format of the blog, I dont know what I did and I think I might have accidentally rearranged things.

sigh.

And i dont feel upto changing it back, so all of my many many avid readers and adorers will have to just put up with it.

a frog called amelie.

Have I ever told you about the frog that rests on my table?

Back in 202, fondly remembered as home, on my table there are four things which always remain, after every session of cleaning and spur of the moment rearranging.

1) my pencil/pen stand. also holds a sharpner, a five rupee coin for emergencies and a pair of tweezers.
2) a table lamp, which has now ceased to be finctional as i have not yet replaced the fused bulbs.
3) a rubber model of an airplane, with a cavity in the middle, where the imaginary rubber people whould be, which allows enough space for
4) a green water squirter in the shape of a frog with wide wide eyes. very wide eyes, and small pupils.

froggy remained unchristened, partly because he wasnt mine, he was just sdopted until his owner claimed him again, and partly because i wanted to name him something meaningful.

( not to say that my other possessions have non meaningful names, but you see, there is something very very holy about a frog that gives you a wide eyed stare everytime you think you are the greatest thing since hot water and the wheel. Rather like, cutting one down to size, all innocent like.)

So, in honour of Amelie Poulain, beautiful and wide eyed and very very lovely.

he is christened amelie.

( clink)

( also amelie is now mine, his former owner having reliquished his claim. post amelie having been granted his freedom and allowed to travel the world, he chose to instead faithfully remain by my tableside, lives and breathes the very spirit of 202 and engages in deep philosophical conversations with the ugly mural)

of things

I have been doing:

eating
sleeping
growing round
taking driving lessons ( future tense)
recovering from sneezy colds
having brief flashes of wisdom which gently spiral away into nothingness
sleeping
some more
reading terry prachett. I like 'equal rites' very very much.
Reading gaiman and robert jordan. Wheel of time makes my head spin.
being glassy eyed when my mother expresses her opinions on things.
watching Kumkum on Tv.
taking to orkut much more than I should.
staring critically at myself in mirrors
trying on newly made clothes ( haute couture ma, i giggle. she just stares)
sleeping.


i have also watched 2 movies.

Sixth Semester - Gains and Losses

This post is long overdue, and my apologies for that, but home turns one slothful and there is no imperative- you must go to the mess or you will starve- voice in the head; pushing one to constantly ….do.

If this semester were to have a title, you know? Something fancy…. I’d call it something from a song that someone recommended I listen to, towards the end when I wanted to perform random acts of senseless violence.

“…It was worth all the while.”

This semester has really been one of constant pushing. Of constant running, Of constant doing. Strangely, fatigue has come and gone, flitting almost, a part of the deal. This semester has been a glimpse of the outside world, of work and life and everyday gains and losses.

I think I lost a lot this semester – but the loss as always has been a learning experience as well as have the gains.

I have lost the ability to laugh, talk, meet and be. With random numerous lots of people.
(but I think I am trying to get it all together again)

I have lost respect for myself. For the kind of idea of worth I carried around in my head, and this has hit more than most. I have had to pull myself together and remind myself of the reasons I had. Some were more flimsy than the others, but I'd like to believe that the worth is still there. And that the respect hasn’t unravelled to the extent that I thought it had.

I have lost and found so many things. Including confidence in myself. And the ability to spin yarns and write a tall tale.

I have lost companionship. Of a deep and enriching kind. One I am most sorry to have lost and whose absence hurts.


I have lost, and this is because of all the other things above, the complete and unerring faith in myself. The absolute sense of trust I once had in my actions and beliefs and motives. If I question myself more, I know it is because of doubt not reassurance. As a standard by which I would like to carry on, this is not a welcome sign, but as I realised, the knowledge of this is sufficient to propel me to work towards it.

That and my ego coupled should have me back on track in no time, I think.


( now the good part )

I have gained substantially more than I have lost. In terms of emotions, sights, perspective and fun.

I know now how I can survive. I know now how much I can take and I know now how to pull oneself together and present a brave face to the world.

My definitions of fairness, of deserving-ness have become even more grey. I can handle reality better, I think.

I can pack. I pose well for pictures and I smile brilliantly at the camera.

I had my coffee on Times square and looked up and realised that there are still things one is delighted by. I am not as jaded as I had believed.

I saw Starry Night, stood next to it and touched the air around it. I was transfixed and I love it. I even have a picture of me grinning uncontrollably next to it. I saw Van Goghs. I ate croissants and omelettes for breakfast. And I lived an experience that was as enriching as it was fun. And I have some truly memorable photographs that I look at every 7 minutes.

I have gained some sense of achievement, some sense of pride.

I bought flowers for someone, for the first time. I ran, actually ran, across crowded roads, hand in hand with V, giggling all through, bags in one hand and hair in complete disarray. smiles.

My first snow. And a few other firsts. One is tucked into bed every night, with bedtime conversations and observations which make one smile.

My first intense hurt too.

One survives, there are Lindo truffles in mint for dessert. And experiences and love and newness and niceness and happiness.

This semester was discovery, it was realisation and giggles. I think I have cried the most this semester, but I am also very happy. Just happy. Happy because anything that will happen now is something I can control. There is anticipation, excitement and life again. I dont know why I feel this way, because I particularly didn’t feel its absence earlier, but what the hell, I am enjoying this - this ability to be, do and look and feel- just.

If it weren’t for the dreaded end semester exams, this would have been close to a perfect melange.

On the whole – a D.

My good friend Bombados

Strangely enough, the past three months have been a whirlwind of places, people and emotions.
And happy chocolates.

Through the mist of impending exams and the future slipping into sight and beckoning with questions, and the lack of any appreciable definiteness, I am at the brink of finishing three years at law school. I have been a bad correspondent, an even worse blogger and a terrible author.
Still.

One shall draw a veil over all that and the pieces of wrapping paper and the rest and begin again. Though I do not enjoy being reminded about how many hours I spent in reading nonsense fan fiction and playing cryptoquote and drafting and re- drafting emails, I shall put a more cheerful face on this, my apology post.

An apology for the times I should have responded, should have done something more, should have let myself be.

Bombados is my priest. My confession man. My Keeper of Shameful Secrets and Other Evil. My good friend, he is. My patient listener. My critic. My giver of advice.

He may be a literary rip- off. Still. He may technically, not exist. Still. He may be a disembodied voice which writes adult harrypotter fic in his spare time. Still.

I hate this writing of posts and pretending I write only to myself. Bombados here solves my problem.

Welcome Bo.

29/2/07 - fairmont

I write here just as a reminder of things that are. I am not doing good, but I think I will do well enough to survive and come back - room sweet 202 and write more.

Therapy like.