From Another Life:
Monday, August 06, 2003
Stillwater, OK
There's pesticides in coke now, after all the train bombs and the plague and airport authorities who scratch their palms when I want my own f-in luggage off the f-in plane. One more reason for me mum to say "But why do you want to come back to India?" I know why - because I want signposts in malayalam, I want temple bells at dusk, I want to eat bhel puri on the streets, I want silly smelly men draping rich silk around their tiny waists to get me to buy a sari, I want my ancestral 'tharavadu', I want the beaches with coconut vendors, I want to go the talkies to see a fillum. Heck, I even want the daily 'load shedding' power cuts, the slow ass internet, the mosquitoes, the cows on the road, the fisherman's bell interrupting my afternoon siesta, Amma nagging at me to get married or die a fat old spinster...anything if only it were home. I belong in third world squalor, I was born in tropical heat, I was reared with red tape and bureaucratic bullshit, I am equipped to fight for every 'equal' opportunity because I had the misfortune of being born female or of a certain caste. I dont think Amma's convinced though - damn!
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
From Another Life:
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
Stillwater, OK
Today was an Achan day, what I mean is a Dad day. Its one of those twenty four hours when everything I say, do and listen to is speaking to me of my father. Today I search for his favorite songs on the web and try to think like he does when he hears the melody. Today I miss him a lot. Funny how some memories are stronger than others, eh? I vividly feel the deep warmth and the rub of his palm. I see the butterfly shaped nicotine stain on two of his front teeth and I can hear him sing. But as hard as I try I cant hear his voice saying my name, not at all. I like the way he wrote his 9s and 4s - such style the man had! And I can smell the combination of sandalwood incense and cigarettes on him too. It was the tobacco that killed him you know. Its been thirteen years and I can still smell him, feel him. And yet sometimes I cant even remember his face without looking at a picture. I forget that my smile is exactly like his and my toes without the pink nailpolish could almost be his - until someone tells me about it. And then I think"God! I love my toes." The man who called me "little lady" and kept a 11-year old me up until midnight trying to get me to pronounce 'succumb' right - he is so much a part of me, so much in my every breath I cannot imagine how I could forget him. But I have, many times, now-a-days almost all the time. And its not my conscience that smote me, its his legacy I have shrugged off that pinches. I am apalled that I could be so ashamed of the girl my dad proudly called his 'kochu sundari' - his little beauty. Because somehwere in me, in my being that wallows constantly in self pity, there is his heritage. And to that I have failed to be true. His words always were his to command, a small feat for a man who could often command his emotions - herculean tasks for the likes of me. I cant help wondering what he must be thinking of me, the woman I have become, the human being I am striving to be.
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
Stillwater, OK
Today was an Achan day, what I mean is a Dad day. Its one of those twenty four hours when everything I say, do and listen to is speaking to me of my father. Today I search for his favorite songs on the web and try to think like he does when he hears the melody. Today I miss him a lot. Funny how some memories are stronger than others, eh? I vividly feel the deep warmth and the rub of his palm. I see the butterfly shaped nicotine stain on two of his front teeth and I can hear him sing. But as hard as I try I cant hear his voice saying my name, not at all. I like the way he wrote his 9s and 4s - such style the man had! And I can smell the combination of sandalwood incense and cigarettes on him too. It was the tobacco that killed him you know. Its been thirteen years and I can still smell him, feel him. And yet sometimes I cant even remember his face without looking at a picture. I forget that my smile is exactly like his and my toes without the pink nailpolish could almost be his - until someone tells me about it. And then I think"God! I love my toes." The man who called me "little lady" and kept a 11-year old me up until midnight trying to get me to pronounce 'succumb' right - he is so much a part of me, so much in my every breath I cannot imagine how I could forget him. But I have, many times, now-a-days almost all the time. And its not my conscience that smote me, its his legacy I have shrugged off that pinches. I am apalled that I could be so ashamed of the girl my dad proudly called his 'kochu sundari' - his little beauty. Because somehwere in me, in my being that wallows constantly in self pity, there is his heritage. And to that I have failed to be true. His words always were his to command, a small feat for a man who could often command his emotions - herculean tasks for the likes of me. I cant help wondering what he must be thinking of me, the woman I have become, the human being I am striving to be.
From Another Life:
Monday, August 04, 2003
Stillwater, OK
Dealing with self-inflicted pain is a bitch. You know the source, love it too much to do anything and feel guilty as sin for putting yourself through it. When I am hurt, this hurt and I recognize that its my own damn fault, who do I rant about? Who do I blame so I can be free? Why does it still feel like the entire cosmos is conspiring to bring me pain? The sense of betrayal is perhaps the hardest to explain, because I cant point a finger at myself and say "You let me down" can I? To change, I need motivation. And thats when I am like "i don't give a f----!" When I am ashamed and sad and crying my eyes out - I am telling myslef, its never getting better you stupid fat fool. All this pain, these tears - they will leave no permanent mark on your life. Because you wont rise from your bed, wipe your swollen eyes and make your existence over. You will feel f-in sorry for yourself, cry some more, eat a doughnut and f-in forget about it until the next time someone reminds you what a loser you are. Since I was made me a sinner why did He give me the discernment of my crime? If He gave me remorse then why not the will to reform? This is my perdition!
Monday, August 04, 2003
Stillwater, OK
Dealing with self-inflicted pain is a bitch. You know the source, love it too much to do anything and feel guilty as sin for putting yourself through it. When I am hurt, this hurt and I recognize that its my own damn fault, who do I rant about? Who do I blame so I can be free? Why does it still feel like the entire cosmos is conspiring to bring me pain? The sense of betrayal is perhaps the hardest to explain, because I cant point a finger at myself and say "You let me down" can I? To change, I need motivation. And thats when I am like "i don't give a f----!" When I am ashamed and sad and crying my eyes out - I am telling myslef, its never getting better you stupid fat fool. All this pain, these tears - they will leave no permanent mark on your life. Because you wont rise from your bed, wipe your swollen eyes and make your existence over. You will feel f-in sorry for yourself, cry some more, eat a doughnut and f-in forget about it until the next time someone reminds you what a loser you are. Since I was made me a sinner why did He give me the discernment of my crime? If He gave me remorse then why not the will to reform? This is my perdition!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
From Another Life:
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Stillwater, OK
One of the things I have wondered about frequently is my career choice. I have always had ambition - oodles of it. Now we must not mistake that for drive, which is an entirely different thing altogether. But ambiton - that I have. My mother says "You know you want to be at the top of the mountain. But you dont know which path to choose." I beg to differ. I know I want to be near the summit, but I dont even know which damn mountian to start climbing. I was an indifferent student all through highschool, I made above average grades because I have a good brain, but I never tapped my resources up there much, let alone put it to full good use. So like every other South Indian girl who is squeamish about blood, I found myslef in pre-engineering. Come entrance examinations, I found myself concocting long winded, implausible and purely ingenious answers to questions pertaining to quantum physics. Needless to say, I did not make it into an engineering college. I bitterly exclaimed over the injustice of being expected to study for admission!(can you imagine! Damn!) simply because my mother is a school teacher and not a bank clerk in Dubai, sheesh! From then on the journey from two toruous years at an all girls covent college to my esteemed (read third tier) University in USA - it was a saga of near misses and complete lack of decision making skills. Late applications, lack of money(see? again my poverty strikes at me!) and my innate laziness chose my future, my major, my graduation and now my master's. Do people like me succeed? Do we ever, deep inside of our hearts, take credit for where we have arrived - be it a good or bad destination? People clap me on the back and tell me what a little miracle worker I am. And I cringe and think of all the mountains of guilt I would feel if I were noble enough to feel anything of the sort. Because, the truth is galling, I am gagging on my smug acceptance of unworthy laurels. Didn't know I had it in me! And now, when I want to do justice to my career (non)-choice, when I want to do something right because I f-in want to, instead of the fortunes being kind and fluking a score,- I don't know if I can! I have never feared that anything I wanted to become would be denied me - not because I have faith in my abilities - nooo, that would be unforgivable blindness - but because the Heavens have been very consistent. I have never worked for a goal I deliberately set out for myself - not whole heartedly. Thats perhaps why I never sang proffessionally, never published a book, never lost weight.A thought occurs to me though - perhaps the reason I am riding crest after crest of favorable Divine intervention; why, despite everything I choose not to do, I always land on my feet is because I make no effort to tame the chaos. Perhaps the winds of change don't break those that sway in tandem to their erratic whims. Perhaps floating, half sunken on your back with water blocking yor hearing and your eyes squeezed tight against the sun, drifting effortlessly without control,is the only way to swim.Ciao
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Stillwater, OK
One of the things I have wondered about frequently is my career choice. I have always had ambition - oodles of it. Now we must not mistake that for drive, which is an entirely different thing altogether. But ambiton - that I have. My mother says "You know you want to be at the top of the mountain. But you dont know which path to choose." I beg to differ. I know I want to be near the summit, but I dont even know which damn mountian to start climbing. I was an indifferent student all through highschool, I made above average grades because I have a good brain, but I never tapped my resources up there much, let alone put it to full good use. So like every other South Indian girl who is squeamish about blood, I found myslef in pre-engineering. Come entrance examinations, I found myself concocting long winded, implausible and purely ingenious answers to questions pertaining to quantum physics. Needless to say, I did not make it into an engineering college. I bitterly exclaimed over the injustice of being expected to study for admission!(can you imagine! Damn!) simply because my mother is a school teacher and not a bank clerk in Dubai, sheesh! From then on the journey from two toruous years at an all girls covent college to my esteemed (read third tier) University in USA - it was a saga of near misses and complete lack of decision making skills. Late applications, lack of money(see? again my poverty strikes at me!) and my innate laziness chose my future, my major, my graduation and now my master's. Do people like me succeed? Do we ever, deep inside of our hearts, take credit for where we have arrived - be it a good or bad destination? People clap me on the back and tell me what a little miracle worker I am. And I cringe and think of all the mountains of guilt I would feel if I were noble enough to feel anything of the sort. Because, the truth is galling, I am gagging on my smug acceptance of unworthy laurels. Didn't know I had it in me! And now, when I want to do justice to my career (non)-choice, when I want to do something right because I f-in want to, instead of the fortunes being kind and fluking a score,- I don't know if I can! I have never feared that anything I wanted to become would be denied me - not because I have faith in my abilities - nooo, that would be unforgivable blindness - but because the Heavens have been very consistent. I have never worked for a goal I deliberately set out for myself - not whole heartedly. Thats perhaps why I never sang proffessionally, never published a book, never lost weight.A thought occurs to me though - perhaps the reason I am riding crest after crest of favorable Divine intervention; why, despite everything I choose not to do, I always land on my feet is because I make no effort to tame the chaos. Perhaps the winds of change don't break those that sway in tandem to their erratic whims. Perhaps floating, half sunken on your back with water blocking yor hearing and your eyes squeezed tight against the sun, drifting effortlessly without control,is the only way to swim.Ciao
From Another Life:
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Stillwater, OK
I detect negative energy very well. When its around me, emanating from me, directed at me - I get this falling feeling in my mid regions, right where my ribcage ends. Some other things feel like that too - fear, anxietyand loneliness - the bone deep, silent kind. But when the feeling stays and knots into this dull sort of pain, thats when I know how much I distrust it, how much I am in awe of it.
For all the griping and the waxing eloquent over my woes, I have been forutnate. Because for the larger part I have been surrounded by positive feelings. Happily married couples, children who love their parents and even their siblings occassionally!, friends who stick by each other, colleagues who respect and like one another. Its almost scary how pink and fluffy my existence is sometimes, because I wonder if I have just shut out the bad stuff, you know selective perception.
Digressions apart, when the negativism enters my life, it always pervades my whole existence. It spills over from one facet of my being to another. Do I bring it with me?- I don't know. I don't want to, but its surprising the things you can do without trying at all, eh? And the natural successor is the fear, that this charged cloud I carry around on my head will stay, decide to become a permanent fixture. And I can grovel, I can sweeten, I can rant, I can come clean - but the cloud will melt only when IT wants to. Don't you hate powerlessness, the weak helpless feeling? I do. I hate it. Especially when the cloud settles so deep around my eyes that it distorts vision, flights of imagination, even smiles look like grimaces or worse still smirks. I take my poison into other people's days and color their moments black, its a compulsive disorder when the cloud hovers. I am going to go think determinedly happy thoughts and pray for a cloud-dispelling day.Toodles.
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Stillwater, OK
I detect negative energy very well. When its around me, emanating from me, directed at me - I get this falling feeling in my mid regions, right where my ribcage ends. Some other things feel like that too - fear, anxietyand loneliness - the bone deep, silent kind. But when the feeling stays and knots into this dull sort of pain, thats when I know how much I distrust it, how much I am in awe of it.
For all the griping and the waxing eloquent over my woes, I have been forutnate. Because for the larger part I have been surrounded by positive feelings. Happily married couples, children who love their parents and even their siblings occassionally!, friends who stick by each other, colleagues who respect and like one another. Its almost scary how pink and fluffy my existence is sometimes, because I wonder if I have just shut out the bad stuff, you know selective perception.
Digressions apart, when the negativism enters my life, it always pervades my whole existence. It spills over from one facet of my being to another. Do I bring it with me?- I don't know. I don't want to, but its surprising the things you can do without trying at all, eh? And the natural successor is the fear, that this charged cloud I carry around on my head will stay, decide to become a permanent fixture. And I can grovel, I can sweeten, I can rant, I can come clean - but the cloud will melt only when IT wants to. Don't you hate powerlessness, the weak helpless feeling? I do. I hate it. Especially when the cloud settles so deep around my eyes that it distorts vision, flights of imagination, even smiles look like grimaces or worse still smirks. I take my poison into other people's days and color their moments black, its a compulsive disorder when the cloud hovers. I am going to go think determinedly happy thoughts and pray for a cloud-dispelling day.Toodles.
From Another Life:
Monday, July 28, 2003
Stillwater, OK
A comment on one if my old blogs compels me to further introspection. But last night my roomate cooked some kind of dangerous 'gongura shrimp' concoction. I should have known better than to trust them Gults :). Though the suffering now might have something to do with the fact that I ate a gargantuan portion of the stuff with ahem..unladylike haste. The point therefore is, I have discovered that introspection and diarrhoea are not good bed-fellows. Ugh- the mind picture was a little graphic there for a second.
Moving on..Had an extremely eventful weekend. With the old flame leaving, harmony once more reigned in an all female household thrown sadly off kilter by introduction of cute male 'phoren' body. Friday I barely made it home and into my favorite pair of corduroys before I had to leave for the farewell party of three of our departing colleagues. We drove out to my boss's immaculate home and pigged out on home-made guacamole and lime chips. A couple of tall glasses of Vodka and orange juice and an enlightening session on blogging around the kitchen sink later, your's truly made her excuses. Ah! the travails of a busy, popular and highly sought-after woman. Once home it was a mad rush to strip off laid back American persona and slip into my 'sophisticated Mallu' one. Rushed off to friend's house replete in new short kurta and armloads of sliver bangles. Gorged on so much good Indian food, I blush to elaborate. Watched lame mallu tape of the so-called funnies (read NOT!) and was bored witless by unappreciative Mellu men who kept saying "adi poli" until I wanted to 'jemb outto the windoe'!!! :)
The highlight of the evening was the exemplary female company - wonderful wonderful girls!- and ofcourse the luxury of letting the musical notes of my mother tongue wash over my telugu-saturated senses. And on sunday I spent a whopping thrity dollars on a dress for my birthday, which is on friday for all of you who want to make me feel like I have friends and am not a pathetic loser.
Anyways..roomie came back from India last night, doing her famous imitation of Santa. She had so much stuff for everyone,that sweet generous girl!(it also helps to have money I guess, but then everyone who has money is not inclined to spend it on others, eh what?). Its wonderful to have her home, our little family is complete again! Before I become an insufferable mush monster I will bid my fair friends adieu!
Monday, July 28, 2003
Stillwater, OK
A comment on one if my old blogs compels me to further introspection. But last night my roomate cooked some kind of dangerous 'gongura shrimp' concoction. I should have known better than to trust them Gults :). Though the suffering now might have something to do with the fact that I ate a gargantuan portion of the stuff with ahem..unladylike haste. The point therefore is, I have discovered that introspection and diarrhoea are not good bed-fellows. Ugh- the mind picture was a little graphic there for a second.
Moving on..Had an extremely eventful weekend. With the old flame leaving, harmony once more reigned in an all female household thrown sadly off kilter by introduction of cute male 'phoren' body. Friday I barely made it home and into my favorite pair of corduroys before I had to leave for the farewell party of three of our departing colleagues. We drove out to my boss's immaculate home and pigged out on home-made guacamole and lime chips. A couple of tall glasses of Vodka and orange juice and an enlightening session on blogging around the kitchen sink later, your's truly made her excuses. Ah! the travails of a busy, popular and highly sought-after woman. Once home it was a mad rush to strip off laid back American persona and slip into my 'sophisticated Mallu' one. Rushed off to friend's house replete in new short kurta and armloads of sliver bangles. Gorged on so much good Indian food, I blush to elaborate. Watched lame mallu tape of the so-called funnies (read NOT!) and was bored witless by unappreciative Mellu men who kept saying "adi poli" until I wanted to 'jemb outto the windoe'!!! :)
The highlight of the evening was the exemplary female company - wonderful wonderful girls!- and ofcourse the luxury of letting the musical notes of my mother tongue wash over my telugu-saturated senses. And on sunday I spent a whopping thrity dollars on a dress for my birthday, which is on friday for all of you who want to make me feel like I have friends and am not a pathetic loser.
Anyways..roomie came back from India last night, doing her famous imitation of Santa. She had so much stuff for everyone,that sweet generous girl!(it also helps to have money I guess, but then everyone who has money is not inclined to spend it on others, eh what?). Its wonderful to have her home, our little family is complete again! Before I become an insufferable mush monster I will bid my fair friends adieu!
From Another Life:
Thursday, July 24, 2003
Stillwater, OK
I woke up this morning feeling a bit more like myself- gritty eyes - check, head ache - check, pissed off lazy ass attitude - check..ok I am almost all back! I feel like the real me - the grouchy, mean, basically unhappy me - had gone on vacation and this silly school-girl type had taken over my body for a few days there. I was pea-brained and giggly and did incredibly demented things like painstakingly put *shudder* pink nailpolish on and then promptly take it off - a couple of times a day. Oh! the shame of it...but it was cathartic in a way...I was purging my inner 'princess'...never to return I hope.
Sometimes I feel like I was shelled to smithereens and there's parts of me strewn all over. There's a part of me that exults in a new pair of shoes and a good haircut. A part of me that reads the Ayn Rand and Paulo Coelho and the unabridged works of Shakespeare and wants to write to newspapers about the crimes of religious intolerance. A part of me that loves to party and dance in abandon all night. A part of me that prays every morning and has maintained her thursday 'vrath' for over twelve years. A part of me that is still so in love with my first boyfriend. A part of me that is most probably getting engaged this December to mama's choice of good Nair boy. So many parts of me, but none of them match, none fit together - like a bad jigsaw. A bit like Humpty Dumpty, except I dont think I was ever a nice complete whole. Every time a new facet of my existence branched out, it just grew - independent of the rest of me, shunning the other parts.
Perhaps the most galling thing about pain - my personal variety - is its ability to rob me of all powers of expression. I fall back on the trite, the obvious, the viciously unsatisfying. The frustration, the fear of mediocracy builds with every paltry word that fails to scoop in it my great deluge of unprovoked, irrevocable emotion. Listen to me now. Ugh. I cannot inflict any more of this demented rantingon you poor souls. Adios!
Thursday, July 24, 2003
Stillwater, OK
I woke up this morning feeling a bit more like myself- gritty eyes - check, head ache - check, pissed off lazy ass attitude - check..ok I am almost all back! I feel like the real me - the grouchy, mean, basically unhappy me - had gone on vacation and this silly school-girl type had taken over my body for a few days there. I was pea-brained and giggly and did incredibly demented things like painstakingly put *shudder* pink nailpolish on and then promptly take it off - a couple of times a day. Oh! the shame of it...but it was cathartic in a way...I was purging my inner 'princess'...never to return I hope.
Sometimes I feel like I was shelled to smithereens and there's parts of me strewn all over. There's a part of me that exults in a new pair of shoes and a good haircut. A part of me that reads the Ayn Rand and Paulo Coelho and the unabridged works of Shakespeare and wants to write to newspapers about the crimes of religious intolerance. A part of me that loves to party and dance in abandon all night. A part of me that prays every morning and has maintained her thursday 'vrath' for over twelve years. A part of me that is still so in love with my first boyfriend. A part of me that is most probably getting engaged this December to mama's choice of good Nair boy. So many parts of me, but none of them match, none fit together - like a bad jigsaw. A bit like Humpty Dumpty, except I dont think I was ever a nice complete whole. Every time a new facet of my existence branched out, it just grew - independent of the rest of me, shunning the other parts.
Perhaps the most galling thing about pain - my personal variety - is its ability to rob me of all powers of expression. I fall back on the trite, the obvious, the viciously unsatisfying. The frustration, the fear of mediocracy builds with every paltry word that fails to scoop in it my great deluge of unprovoked, irrevocable emotion. Listen to me now. Ugh. I cannot inflict any more of this demented rantingon you poor souls. Adios!
From Another Life:
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
Stillwater, OK
So am having a semi-productive day at work. Motivation to finish a three year old annual report that no-one in his right mind would give two figs about is real hard when you are juggling three men, see? But I plough on.You know - I know I sound shallow and flighty. All I have been able to write about in daaaays is boys and hairdos. My thoughts have stopped seeping beneath the surface. I am turning into this superficial git and I have no intergrity or discretion because all the flippin little non-thoughts running through my big empty head is out here in blogworld for people to overlook. Damn.I rarely self-analyse to my satisfaction. Something innately honest about me makes self-analysis a very unpleasant process. I should stop now, but while I am gut-spilling, I might as well confess that I am not happy with me to day. uhuh. Nosirreee. I have been relentlessly blonde and I have no excuse. Ohhhh, I hate myself.Gotta run and finish the flippin report before I lose my job as well (considering I have no self-esteem left). Waaaah!
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
Stillwater, OK
So am having a semi-productive day at work. Motivation to finish a three year old annual report that no-one in his right mind would give two figs about is real hard when you are juggling three men, see? But I plough on.You know - I know I sound shallow and flighty. All I have been able to write about in daaaays is boys and hairdos. My thoughts have stopped seeping beneath the surface. I am turning into this superficial git and I have no intergrity or discretion because all the flippin little non-thoughts running through my big empty head is out here in blogworld for people to overlook. Damn.I rarely self-analyse to my satisfaction. Something innately honest about me makes self-analysis a very unpleasant process. I should stop now, but while I am gut-spilling, I might as well confess that I am not happy with me to day. uhuh. Nosirreee. I have been relentlessly blonde and I have no excuse. Ohhhh, I hate myself.Gotta run and finish the flippin report before I lose my job as well (considering I have no self-esteem left). Waaaah!
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
From Another Life:
Friday, July 18, 2003
Stillwater, OK
Its Friday people! It is the temporary end to torture - of one kind atleast. I am a fulfilled woman - I have a movie to watch tonight, sexy Italian Shoes to buy at $19.99!!!!! and an office picnic to go to on Sunday where I will spend an entire day of my precious weekend with the same people I spent the week hiding from in my gray cell- uh! cubicle. Damn but I am a happening sort of girl. This weekend I am going to make my lecherous co-worker supremely happy in my three year old bathing suit, but some things just cant be helped. I mean you cant expect an emancipated young woman like me to swelter in 100 degree weather and not take a dip in a large man-made lake with floating dead fish in it and gunk that feels suspiciously like a colicky baby's diaper under my feet now do you? Mein samjhungi mein gange naha aai. See? I am in touch with my roots! And after the first three glasses of sangria, who the hell cares what I am swimming in, right?ciao then amigos!
2 hours later:
Okay, so its a loooong friday. What do you want me to do about it? Huh? Freaking sunday party seems far far away, like eons away, like another galactic timezone - damn. I knew it wouldn't be long before the time warp thing would start catching up with me. Inspiration can't be racist can it? I mean if you are Indian why is it that people assume the only shit you can write bashes the arranged marriage system or talks about some forbidden kamasutra-esque smut? How about like the nice stories huh? Doesn't anybody want to read them anymore? How about you ask a girl what she's all about and f'ng listen when she's talking to you. And pull your head out of your ass so you dont f-ng say "So....India huh. That sure is far aways from here". No kidding morons - somebody got an A in their third grade geography class. Damn.
Friday, July 18, 2003
Stillwater, OK
Its Friday people! It is the temporary end to torture - of one kind atleast. I am a fulfilled woman - I have a movie to watch tonight, sexy Italian Shoes to buy at $19.99!!!!! and an office picnic to go to on Sunday where I will spend an entire day of my precious weekend with the same people I spent the week hiding from in my gray cell- uh! cubicle. Damn but I am a happening sort of girl. This weekend I am going to make my lecherous co-worker supremely happy in my three year old bathing suit, but some things just cant be helped. I mean you cant expect an emancipated young woman like me to swelter in 100 degree weather and not take a dip in a large man-made lake with floating dead fish in it and gunk that feels suspiciously like a colicky baby's diaper under my feet now do you? Mein samjhungi mein gange naha aai. See? I am in touch with my roots! And after the first three glasses of sangria, who the hell cares what I am swimming in, right?ciao then amigos!
2 hours later:
Okay, so its a loooong friday. What do you want me to do about it? Huh? Freaking sunday party seems far far away, like eons away, like another galactic timezone - damn. I knew it wouldn't be long before the time warp thing would start catching up with me. Inspiration can't be racist can it? I mean if you are Indian why is it that people assume the only shit you can write bashes the arranged marriage system or talks about some forbidden kamasutra-esque smut? How about like the nice stories huh? Doesn't anybody want to read them anymore? How about you ask a girl what she's all about and f'ng listen when she's talking to you. And pull your head out of your ass so you dont f-ng say "So....India huh. That sure is far aways from here". No kidding morons - somebody got an A in their third grade geography class. Damn.
From Another Life:
Thursday, July 17, 2003
Stillwater, OK
Yeehaw! I love blogging. Some poor demented soul had the decency to reply to a mail I sent him. Haha! he is now snared. I am not going to pretend that the only happy thought I have had all day was not "Somebody actually likes mailing me!"Sheesh - I am not as pathetic as I sound. I do have friends, no really I do. Its just that they dont think like me, talk like me. Its rather depressing that the real me is someone I am working hard to keep under wraps - even...no especially with my closest friends. I fear that these people whom I care about, whom I have instituted willy-nilly into my make-shift family will take one look at the real me and wrinkle up their noses and hold thier thumb and forefinger to their foreheads - in a resounding capital L! Its hard belonging to a group of awesome people who like you because they dont really know what dirty, lazy-ass worthless and completely uninteresting thoughts cross your mind half the time. Makes me want to go pierce my tongue or something you know - prove their worst fears right. Isn't it funny the cartwheels and jumping through hoops you will do to avoid loneliness - even if it means the true you is alone anyway, pouring forth in emails and blogs that noone cares about.Okay I have now thoroughly depressed myself and am going to go the bathroom and wipe my nose.adios amigos
Thursday, July 17, 2003
Stillwater, OK
Yeehaw! I love blogging. Some poor demented soul had the decency to reply to a mail I sent him. Haha! he is now snared. I am not going to pretend that the only happy thought I have had all day was not "Somebody actually likes mailing me!"Sheesh - I am not as pathetic as I sound. I do have friends, no really I do. Its just that they dont think like me, talk like me. Its rather depressing that the real me is someone I am working hard to keep under wraps - even...no especially with my closest friends. I fear that these people whom I care about, whom I have instituted willy-nilly into my make-shift family will take one look at the real me and wrinkle up their noses and hold thier thumb and forefinger to their foreheads - in a resounding capital L! Its hard belonging to a group of awesome people who like you because they dont really know what dirty, lazy-ass worthless and completely uninteresting thoughts cross your mind half the time. Makes me want to go pierce my tongue or something you know - prove their worst fears right. Isn't it funny the cartwheels and jumping through hoops you will do to avoid loneliness - even if it means the true you is alone anyway, pouring forth in emails and blogs that noone cares about.Okay I have now thoroughly depressed myself and am going to go the bathroom and wipe my nose.adios amigos
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