Thursday, November 28, 2013

Let us go then, you and I

The past few hours, I have been filled with a strange restless sort of energy, neither letting me work, nor letting me read in peace. I have opened and closed tabs, only half-focusing on the content I consume, I switch back to my twitterfeed, eyes only partially taking in the steady rhythm of  tidbits of news, randomly clicking on links, and parsing bits of some poetry I've started to read and back to my inbox calling out to me with its neat list of unfinished tasks and diligent reminders, and I alt tab ahain.

I'm doing all things badly, listlessly even, these few weeks, and my mind is approaching the kind of overwhelmed, blank state I find myself in more often than not.

There's an increasingly large list of unfinished promises I've been trying to keep and I;m doing them all badly. So, in honesty to myself, and after a lot of introspection about life, and how I should live it, I've decided to cut out on vague deadlines, impractical goals, a gazillion scribbles to do things better, grand visions of all of the things I am going to change. This next birthday year, I am going to hunker down and work smart and live smart and be as zenspaax as I can be, and do it well.

One of the things I am thus ending is bloggy. Its not a big deal, you know, been there, done that, and since Singapore, this bloggy has been barely there, but it too like everything else I'm putting away, is from a time ago and deserves love, respect and a kindly goodbye.

Goodbye world, goodbye bloggy. The shoes will remain, but I will go.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

I am a fever paapa ... ta nana ta nanana

 I'm unwell, super grumpy and I love that we have a working temperature wand (thermometer). Everytime I diagnose myself and it displays a reading of 38.0 deg C or so, I sing to myself "I am a fever paapa" to the tune of "I am a disco dancer".

Annoying DF thusly makes me feel a WHOLE LOT better.


Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Price of Admission

Its summer. In Delhi. 46 degree Celcius. FORTY-SIX. Stuff melts at this temperature. I may be heatsick. Better than heartsick, yak yak.
My brain has probably melted.


I just watched DF cut a watermelon into small perfectly shaped pieces. Eugh.
If only watermelon skins were like mango skins and you could just sink your teeth into them and release your inner savage.

I grumbled that DF had cut all of the watermelon before I could make my pitch for eating them slice-wise as opposed to piece-wise, but DF merely waved a large knife and said that "That's the price of admission.

We're a riot - please visit, in winter.


Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Cloud Atlas

Today was one of those days when I just couldn't be bothered to go to work. As I said to DF in the morning, "Here I am (hand at chin level), when I know what I am doing, here I am (hand at stomach level), most days of my life, and today, I am the floor."

I pushed myself to get out of bed though, and I dressed and I dutifully ate my breakfast (perspiring gently in the Delhi summer and wondering if I should start wearing sunglasses at home) while looking around for something to read on the way to work.

Usually, my breakfast read is the newspaper, but ever since we had a chik installed, we're lucky if we get the paper 3 days a week. Anyway! I figured I may as well start on Cloud Atlas because I had begun reading it the previous night, and it was getting unputdownable.

I sat on the ratty broken sofa for five hours at a stretch, prolonging my breakfast and reading Cloud Atlas and thinking to myself, "who needs to go to work when I can learn from this book right here!"
I got up when the battery on my phone died, and ventured inside to lie on the bed and finish the book, and I did.

And wow.

And because I am inarticulate and now faced with the consequences of unintended bunking, I haven't the time to review it, but I wanted to point you to this:

At the Cloud Atlas press conference, Lana Wachowski said, “We all felt the book affects your brain. You read it and your brain no longer splits it up into six stories. Your brain begins making connections itself.” The directors line up the climaxes of the many stories like mountaintops in a row so that the viewer can see the same struggle for freedom over the great expanse of time. And in each era, authority figures — whether slave traders or futuristic city cops — say “There is a natural order to the world.”

And in each climax there is a hero, male or female, who knows this to be a lie. The effect on the audience in seeing such vastly different societies from the 19th century’s racial slavery to the genetic clone slavery of the 22nd century is the realization that no natural order exists. Every society is a web of power and ideology woven together that ensnares the bodies of those living in them. What is natural is the desire to embody the repressed truth and live it. 

Thursday, May 02, 2013

This Thursday

My plants are dying and its HOT HOT DUSTY DUSTY.

Plus, I am very close to broke.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Its a NEW ME. Do you love me still.

Suffice to say I have done a whole lot of nothingness. Isn't it surprising, I read and wrote and ate and ate and ran and met many *different* people and bought groceries and baked and cooked and did housework and laundrylaundrylaundry and a million other things when I was justanothercorporatelawyerdrone.

I made the switch to whateverthisisnow (new style of replacing hyphens (like so -) with non-spaces (likeso)) to have more time (and specifically to quote myself (because god damn, how much history do I have to deal with)) :

This, this now and here, it doesn’t feel right. There’s always this sense of deprivation, no?
I want to roam streets if I feel like it at 3 pm. I want to be non-corporate. I don’t want to do timesheets. I want to read with the luxury of a lot of time. I want to make and drink a lot of tea. I want to wear orange clothes to work, shut down my computer at 6:00 pm and go out and learn a language or swim or bake or read a judgment or write!  If it rains, I want to go out and splash. I want to be wrapped up completely in my thoughts. 
I want to think.
I want to not sit at a computer all day. I want to be a veryusefulperson. I want to create and contribute.  I’d really like to set a goal and achieve it on my own. A big huge difficult goal. Not atention to detail – that is NOT my goal. NO NO NO NO NO.
I want to wake up and feel like there is a very definite reason why I am doing what I do. If I don’ t have that reason, I want to stop doing it – just like that – poof.  

There is now no definite reason I am doing this. I haven't thought or read a judgment or become more intelligent. I have baked and gone swimming and playing in the rains. Also wore orange and pink. 

I must needs cease this folly, it would seem. 


I WAS JUST GETTING STARTED. DID I ever really ask for such restlessness? I think I need a big difficult goal. Yes. 

Also, the bloggy must awaken from its slumber. Rooooooooar.

Tuesday, January 01, 2013


In the few days since the beginning of this new year (a year, btw, that has wholly different digits, something that didn't happen since 1987) I've come across some excellent statement material. One is particular, stayed with me, and I wanted to share - not merely because it is ironifunny (ironically funny)

Now, you see, statement material is very different from pithy, sarcastic material, though good statement material is both pithy and sarcastic. Its not merely that. Its more than the sum of pithy and sarcastic words. Like Golpalott's Third Law. (I re-read all of Harry Potter during the holidays, along with every depressing article I could lay my hands on about the Delhi rape).

(On a separate note, look how bad my sentence structuring becomes when I don't blog for a few months...sheesh).

Anyway, I thought'd I share that statement, and let you enjoy your gentle introduction to bloggy verision 1.4, I think.

  "You might as well just put "If you're white, male, first-world and straight, it's your fault in some way" on the front page every day and be done with it."