Brevity

I have ideas fleeting in and out of my head, but when it comes to putting it down in writing, I lose all interest and decide to look up random videos on YouTube. There; that explains why nothing has been posted here in a while (of course, this is assuming that someone has been wondering why. To my knowledge, there are only two such individuals.)

Anyway, a couple of days ago, I realised that I finally ‘got’ Wordsworth’s Daffodils. We did it in my sixth grade English class, complete with a page and a half worth of interpretation. This involved what had inspired the poet, his background, his family, what the author of the textbook thought the poet meant by each and every word in the poem, etc. If anyone had asked for my honest opinion regarding what I thought had inspired the poet, I would have replied, ‘Maybe he just liked daffodils.’ But of course, no one was looking for an honest opinion, least of all mine. So I dutifully replicated the textbook author’s thoughts and words and managed to get a fairly decent grade as well.

Now, thirteen years later and in England, I've seen the daffodils. Without a page and a half explaining why, what, where, and how, I feel the poem. Which makes me wish that every poet/author/composer/artist would add to their work a short paragraph or even a few sentences explaining what inspired them and what the poem ‘actually means.’ This would immediately eliminate all this presumptuousness on the part of textbook authors, and future generations of students will be infinitely happier. I may go even so far as to say a little original thought may emerge from not having to constantly reproduce someone else’s ideas. Case in point, Wordsworth on Daffodils could have been as follows; Good piece of work, quite proud of the rhyming. Enjoy it as just that. For those who want a deeper understanding, go look at a field of daffodils. Else, leave well enough alone.

Now all that's needed is for the millions of other poets/authors/composers/artists to follow suit. Easy as that.

100-114

That's the average IQ of the human race (give or take a few points depending on group statistics, etc).

When I was younger, I wanted to be the gifted child.

The genius who could do math without getting an instant headache, and remember all the formulas required for the chemistry exams.Even my doctor dream died because I didn't have the intellectual aptitude for it, never mind the mythical status of being an astrophysicist or engineer par excellence.

I had to face it - I was normal. Just regular, average, nothing special.

As far as academia went, I was nothing outstanding. I had no grades that would be legendary; I was just normal.

Now though, when I see the geniuses with limited (if any) social skills, or the eating disorders; the brainiacs who hate their parents for all the pressure; the heavy-duty achievers with all the accolades and not much else; I am more than grateful for my normalcy.

For every one genius that appears to be relatively well-balanced and still make it to the top, there seem to be about ten that are totally screwed up.

Lesson for today people, embrace the normal; it's sadly underrated.

Tonight, I realised a gift my parents gave me....

was the ability to sit in a fancy restaurant, drinking expensive alcohol and the knowledge of which knives, forks and spoons to use without embarrassing myself.

It is the same ease with which I can sit and eat a simple meal with no cutlery involved (true Indian style!).

When we were young, my sister and I used to hop over the wall of our garden and go to a labourer's shack next door. The lady was working on the renovation work of our neighbour's building. We sat on the floor, ate from her plate and played with her baby.

Looking back, I see the house was makeshift and tiny, the food simple.

But the enjoyment was the same as any we had when we ate out with our parents.

One day we were at her shack. The next, we were at the five-star President Hotel eating at their famous Thai Restaurant.

It never seemed strange or out of place, the dichotomy of our social interactions.

But now, when I see how uncomfortable some people are when they are not at a place that serves food 'just so', or see friends who are used to simple food shift uncomfortably when they are invited to la-di-dah restaurants, I am able to appreciate this gift.

So to conclude, I was totally and completely able to enjoy Lahore Kebab House tonight.

Just as much as I was able to enjoy Assaggi, Status, Global Fusion or any other place I went to.

The fact that I'm a foodaholic has nothing to do with it of course.

Onwards

While looking through some old folders in my email inbox, I cleared two thousand emails from my 'work' folder.

Yup, that's right. Two thousand.

If I choose to look at the bright side, I am grateful for the job through which I learned a hell of a lot about the real world, how to get along with all sorts of people diplomatically, met amazing colleagues who became friends and gained immense respect for at least two clients.

If I choose to be realistic about it, the job was hell. Sure it had its perks and the pay was great, but anything that makes you want to not get out of bed in the morning and want to have a drink by noon, is not a good thing in the long run.

So as I head toward a career change away from being the 'yes' person, here's my wish list for whatever I work at next:

- I won't receive more than ten emails a day. More importantly, I won't have to answer them within five seconds of receiving them in order to appear to be 'on the job'.

- I can leave work at a decent hour and not get stared at on the way to the door (I swear to God this actually happened every single time I left before six o'clock!).

- I will have a Monday to Friday job that actually entails not working on Saturdays from home.

- Lying about what is possible to do will be an anomaly, not a part of the job description.

- Most importantly, I won't have to smile all the time when talking to idiots.

Here's to the dream job!

Therapy

When intuition and paranoia are at odds.

When confusion meets happiness along with denial.

When blissful numbness gives way to a whole host of tangled emotions.

There's only one thing to do.

Eat.

The Liberal Illusion

I thought acceptance and tolerance had become the norm.

I was taught that everyone is equal and though we come from different backgrounds, colours, religions and economic classes - everyone had to be treated the same and with respect.

I had friends who were rich and those that weren't so well off; friends who were Hindu, Muslim, Catholic and certainly a whole bunch of disillusioned agnostics and atheists.

It was lovely, and to a large extent, it still is.

But now I'm finding that the norm has limits. Tolerance and respect is all very well, as long as you don't bring it back to your doorstep. Friendship is great, but if you marry - make sure it's from the right religion, caste, community and socio-economic class. When push comes to shove, even the friendship lines will be drawn on the side of those we can see in our 'groups'.

The Liberal illusion is well and truly shattered.

The exception to the norm is not the intolerant person.

It is the person who says he/she is accepting of all, and is able to follow through with more than just words.

How To Turn Yourself Into A Lady

Whenever I talk to BG, there are words of wisdom to be had.

Here's another kitchen conversation example that I have her permission to share.

"I could just walk around with a book on my head. Because that's what I've learned from all those movie montages. As soon as you put a book on your head, you automatically know which fork to use for what. It's that simple."

The In-between

So the concept of everything fitting into 'black' and 'white' died a quick death.

I'm finding I'm more inclined to believe that everything is in shades of grey.
There's no black really, just a really really dark shade of grey. No white, just a light dusting of grey.

Black and white was easier.
Either/Or and there you have it. It was done.

The in-between is complicated. It makes allowances for anomalies and exceptions to the rule.
The best friend who would be at your side at a moment's notice to help you with all your drama is still capable of being a really bad boyfriend/husband.
Or the loving, accepting, open-minded couple can still let all kinds of traditional hell break loose if one of their children marry outside 'the community'.
And the boss you look up to and admire, even aspire to be, can be unethical on more issues than you care to count.

It's all allowed and there's not really much you can do about it.
It's the grey you see?

Snow

This time of year is all about making lists.

There is a synopsis of your life as Facebook status messages, shopping inventories for Christmas and yet another round of New Year's resolutions written on an ever-shortening piece of paper.

I usually like to do a run down of all the things I can tick off the 'Giant List of things I want to do while I'm Alive' and then, in a more philosophical moment, consider all the lessons learned, things to be grateful for despite the crappy bits, etc. However, this year, things have been a bit more... busy, than usual. I feel older, a tad wiser, richer (despite being broke), happier, thinner and on the whole, more content with my lot.

So I'll end my reflection on my most recent lesson after witnessing snow for the very first time this past week (yes I know, I'm one of those people that had never seen snow before):

Snow is prettier and infinitely more enjoyable when you're inside, where it's warm and you can feel your feet.

Life is full of teeny, tiny little epiphanies.

Something I Wish People Would Understand

There are degrees of comfort.

For example, I am a hugger, but that doesn't mean I'm open to hugging everyone. Or just because one person puts his/her arm around you, it does not mean a proclamation of 'he/she's okay with it', so it'll be fine if anyone does it.

I grew up with a friend who I had an amazing level of comfort with. We could hold hands, hug, sleep right next to each other, and there was never any weirdness involved.

Unfortunately, another friend took this to mean I was all sorts of 'cuddly'.

Which I really am not. It didn't end well.

So the lesson for today boys and girls, is don't base your assumptions about what's okay in terms of physical contact based on what someone does with other people.

They're not you. The rules do not apply.

Spill: The Aftermath

Tell me your dreams,

Tell me about your life before me,

Share with me everything,

especially your friends.

Tell me about your family,

your favourite movie,

your addictions, your fears,

your biggest regrets.

Bare your soul and all that you are,

Give me the privilege of your trust,

your heart and mind.

And then let me trample it,

crush it all and throw it away.

So that it becomes indecipherable

to the next person who cares to try.

Learning Curve(s)

If you keep chocolate in your room fridge instead of your kitchen fridge, you're kidding yourself that it's going to last more than an hour.

And it will come to bite you in the ass. Literally.

Newsflash!

Here's a little FYI moment for men - women always know when they're being felt up.

So when you're trying to do that casual brush of the hand 'accident' thing,

don't.

The vicious circle of want

It's the whole Mars-Venus thing again... isn't it always?!

If men want something, they are able to express themselves pretty easily.

I want - therefore I should get.

Somehow the vast majority of women aren't able to articulate this particularly well.

I want, but I want you to want to do whatever the hell it is that is the subject of the argument. Doing something just because I want you to do it is just not good enough; it's the intent that matters. Do you want to do it, or are you doing it just because I want you to do it?

Besides the obvious difference in complexity of one sentence versus four, what on earth is wrong with the female mind?

Simplicity in articulation... that's what I want!

No Last Name Needed

Some of the best memories are created with people you meet just once.

There's something perfect about that one evening spent over a beer, a laugh, a random party that you didn't want to go to but glad you forced yourself to, because you ended up having one of the best conversations of your life.

It's 'Hi, my name is John/Jane', two hours of absolute magic, and then you never have to see them again! You never have to discover dysfunctional personalities, annoying habits, terrible hygiene or anything else that is a part of getting to know people better.

They're perfect! And they remain that way forever, just because you never saw them again.

Exchanging phone numbers is overrated.

Dirty Words

There's a lot of profanity floating around.

I was taught at a very early age to never say "Shit".
I used to fine my Grandmother Rs 1 every time she slipped up and used words like 'stupid' or 'idiot'. I made Rs 50 on one summer vacation alone that I spent with her!

Considering all the f***'s and B******s and truly conventional bad words, someone forgot to tell us that the worst of all profanity was 'What if''.

I'm swearing off the use of all regret.
What the fuck, life is infinitely happier without it!

I remember her always upbeat, with a quick wit and big smile. She is older now. Grey, and slower in her steps.

"When my husband died, I didn't want to live anymore.
I went to the kitchen and took out some fish to cook for our lunch. And then I remembered I'd need only one piece. Such a little thing, but I broke down... every day... little things, and I'd cry.
Death is so final. One day, he was there. The next, he was gone; and it was done.
I'd go to his cupboard, bury my head in the smell of his clothes. But soon, that was gone too."

We spend a year with someone, or two. When it ends, we are sometimes sad but life goes on and things are fluid enough that something takes the place of the one that's gone. I see people my age, in love, but then it's over and nothing really changes. It is something that I am grateful for; the ability to cut someone out of my life and carry on without any great pain or regret.
It is my gift.

But then I see her, and wonder what it must be like to love someone so much that your life ends when they leave. It must be beautiful. It must be devastating. Even though I can't imagine it, it must be...

The ways to centre ourselves,
We lost in the frenzy.
Recaptured slowly now, as if learning to read and talk again.

The grace of standing alone,
forgotten, in the warmth of hugs.

While we sit in the breeze and miss our imagined happiness,

another second went by.

Life is Fair

For two months, I ran five kilometres three times a week and did yoga for one hour every day. I lost 0.5 kgs.

Last month I ate doughnuts, a ridiculous amount of chocolate, tonnes of junk food and made no attempt to exercise. I lost 1.5 kgs.

I suppose there is such a thing as trying too hard.

Bubble-Pop

Like most other people, I have an idea of what 'normal' constitutes. The events, behaviours, situations etc that can be confined within this realm of possibilities.

But ever so often, I come across things that don't quite fit into that category.

Like the man of God, that can molest little children and still celebrate mass in Church.

Or the father that rapes his daughter because a Tantrik tells him it will help his business prospects.

The man who agrees to an arranged marriage, and then tells his new bride he's gay.

The boy who watched his mother suffer his father's infidelity, and then follows his good example in multiples many times over.

The people who lecture endlessly on ethics and morals and the importance of honesty, and then can't string two truthful sentences together.

The religious group that defends the traditional values of a country, and then beats up its women.

The women who gossip freely, and then scream off the rooftops about loose tongues when their daughters are talked about.

I've always wondered what kind of logic is followed by people in these situations. What possible explanations could they have that would make their actions normal. Someone once told me that being drunk was no excuse for making bad decisions, no matter how much your judgement was hampered. Something I argued against vehemently! Now I'm wondering, isn't it so much worse when you're perfectly sober, with (for all intents and purposes) perfectly sound judgement, and still making horrible decisions?

But I think a part of me no longer wants to know. Maybe it is a bubble that I live in and denial is my best friend. But if that bubble protects me from understanding the skewed logic of absolute and complete sickos, then I'm quite alright!