Sometimes, i don't know how my bad moods are triggered, how these demons in me awaken. Sometimes, it takes nothing to make me angry with life, with everyone around me. i get angry with ema if she takes too long to answer my call, i do not respond if he asks me something - it is a wonder i have people still in my life. Maybe ties are difficult to break.
...so much to live for. And yet, i squander away my happiness, my life by insisting on being true to my moods, these dark, mind numbing streaks of thoughts that rain on e every now and then. Soaking me to the soul with misery. i wait for the sun to come out but when it does, all i can see is the dark clouds that would drift in after a bright spell.
the goodness in me, have i lost it all, spent away drop by drop trying to feed my demons to retreat? or do i find excuses just to justify the kind of mean bitch i am? the trouble with me is i am a drama queen who loves to wallow in the mud of self inflicted misery, who will tear open a joy to try to find the sorrow inside and cry foul if none is there, who is tainted with cynicism. Such a pity i love the bitch in me.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
the long and short of it...
Putting it bluntly, i am short - though petite seems a better word. Though not short enough to qualify as a dwarf. Growing up in a place where the people are generally not too vertically blessed - though the present crop of generation suggests otherwise - i never felt umm 'vertically challenged' (for the want of a better word).
i have heard it so often from my friends who are short that if there was one thing they would wish for, it would be for those extra inches. And i have been questioned so many times by them whether i hated being short. The answer has always been 'no' and i have always been met with disbelief. They think i am just putting on a brave face and pretending i am happy with what i am.
If i ask myself the same question, the answer is 'no' - i don't hate the fact that i am not tall. i think it is my ego - i mean when you are as conceited as i am, you don't need the 'physical' height. You think you are so above the others that even from my 5' nothing elevation, you seem to tower over those who are physically at a higher elevation than you! Though i concede i am far from perfect (oh thank god for that trace of modesty), i think i am at peace with the way i look. Which would also explain why i refuse to add some inches wearing heels. i do not find shoes with any semblance of elevation exceeding 5 cm comfortable. i love flats, ballerinas, sneakers or just walking barefoot. Anything but heels.
i need a stool or a chair if i have to get things off the top shelf in the kitchen. Sometimes, very unladylike and much to his amusement, i jump up on the kitchen counter to get things off the top shelf. But who cares? Like they say, beautiful things come in small packages!
i have heard it so often from my friends who are short that if there was one thing they would wish for, it would be for those extra inches. And i have been questioned so many times by them whether i hated being short. The answer has always been 'no' and i have always been met with disbelief. They think i am just putting on a brave face and pretending i am happy with what i am.
If i ask myself the same question, the answer is 'no' - i don't hate the fact that i am not tall. i think it is my ego - i mean when you are as conceited as i am, you don't need the 'physical' height. You think you are so above the others that even from my 5' nothing elevation, you seem to tower over those who are physically at a higher elevation than you! Though i concede i am far from perfect (oh thank god for that trace of modesty), i think i am at peace with the way i look. Which would also explain why i refuse to add some inches wearing heels. i do not find shoes with any semblance of elevation exceeding 5 cm comfortable. i love flats, ballerinas, sneakers or just walking barefoot. Anything but heels.
i need a stool or a chair if i have to get things off the top shelf in the kitchen. Sometimes, very unladylike and much to his amusement, i jump up on the kitchen counter to get things off the top shelf. But who cares? Like they say, beautiful things come in small packages!
Monday, May 16, 2011
She does me proud.....
OK, she is not your ultra educated kind; she does not read hi-funda books; she is the small town woman who always think about what others will say/think. My mother. She of the perpetual worries, she of the large hearted ever forgiving nature.
I talk to her over the phone everyday. I cannot imagine how life must be now without Baba. Yesterday she sheepishly asked me whether she could ask me something. She knows my temper only too well and she knows it takes just one wrong move to make me foam at the mouth- yes, yes, I am a bad daughter. She wanted to know of my younger sister had anyone in her life because she is thinking of getting her married off- you know the usual Indian parents' dialogue of completing all their duties before they die (as of getting your daughters married off is completing your duty but let's not digress). I hesitated. I am the only one in the family who knows of my sister's relationship with someone who is not from our community - I fully support them. The guy had asked me to talk to my family about their intention to get married but with Baba's demise, I thought it best to wait for everyone to get a semblance of order in our lives. My mother said she had asked her friends to find a good Manipuri match for my sister. I told her to stop searching for one. And I told her. I was expecting at least a token murmur of displeasure from her considering how parents always seem to want 'guys from our own kind' . But all she asked wad whether the guy was good . I said yes. I thought she would have protested a bit about how inter- racial marriages are not good. But all she said was we should get her married off once the one year mourning period is over.
Yes, I was left a bit stunned. I had expected to play the large- hearted elder sister supporting her sister against silly family notions of keeping it all within the community. IDamn, I had expected to give a lecture about how we should judge aa person not by his religion or caste or community but by the goodness in him. I had expected to play the large hearted big sister who would arrange to get her sister married on her ownsome despite family protests and threats of ostracism.
Tough luck. It seems I misjudged my mother and her ability to accept things for her daughter's happiness. No threats. No tears of blackmail. Just a graceful acceptance. I am sobproud to be her daughter. Ema, I love and adore you.
I talk to her over the phone everyday. I cannot imagine how life must be now without Baba. Yesterday she sheepishly asked me whether she could ask me something. She knows my temper only too well and she knows it takes just one wrong move to make me foam at the mouth- yes, yes, I am a bad daughter. She wanted to know of my younger sister had anyone in her life because she is thinking of getting her married off- you know the usual Indian parents' dialogue of completing all their duties before they die (as of getting your daughters married off is completing your duty but let's not digress). I hesitated. I am the only one in the family who knows of my sister's relationship with someone who is not from our community - I fully support them. The guy had asked me to talk to my family about their intention to get married but with Baba's demise, I thought it best to wait for everyone to get a semblance of order in our lives. My mother said she had asked her friends to find a good Manipuri match for my sister. I told her to stop searching for one. And I told her. I was expecting at least a token murmur of displeasure from her considering how parents always seem to want 'guys from our own kind' . But all she asked wad whether the guy was good . I said yes. I thought she would have protested a bit about how inter- racial marriages are not good. But all she said was we should get her married off once the one year mourning period is over.
Yes, I was left a bit stunned. I had expected to play the large- hearted elder sister supporting her sister against silly family notions of keeping it all within the community. IDamn, I had expected to give a lecture about how we should judge aa person not by his religion or caste or community but by the goodness in him. I had expected to play the large hearted big sister who would arrange to get her sister married on her ownsome despite family protests and threats of ostracism.
Tough luck. It seems I misjudged my mother and her ability to accept things for her daughter's happiness. No threats. No tears of blackmail. Just a graceful acceptance. I am sobproud to be her daughter. Ema, I love and adore you.
Monday, May 09, 2011
Updates
We got our missing luggage back. Air India is not so bad after all!!
After lot of dilly dallying, i finally placed my candle making supplies order - wax, wick and all those things i need. i am waiting for my lazy ass of a friend to send me my moulds from CA where i left them. If i am lucky, he just might send them before i die of impatience.
Why is it that when i finally get to blogging, all my thoughts evaporate? i mean, when i am doing other stuff like cooking or bathing, i think of the many thoughts i would capture and lay to rest in my blog. But i log in, click on new post and all that i can manage is mundane update nobody would be interested in. If there were such a thing as mental blogging, hell, i would have crossed some thousand posts.
i am forever glued to the 'rental' websites in search of a new place to rent. He wants a house with a garden. i just want a place that is near to my office and with two bathrooms. Most of the houses have only one family bathroom. i have this thing for bathrooms - having lived in a rented flat with one bath with my sister and having had to hammer at the door near about to burst, nothing would induce me to live in a place where i don't have a spare bathroom to run to. He sends me links to properties miles away from my office and kindly suggests i could take the bus to the office saying it will JUST take me 25 minutes. It is enough to want me to smash a commode over his head. The ones i suggest are either too costly - never mind it is less than what we pay now - or not in a neighborhood he likes. i suppose we are stuck in this apartment till they decide to raise the rent or evict us. Oh well...
After lot of dilly dallying, i finally placed my candle making supplies order - wax, wick and all those things i need. i am waiting for my lazy ass of a friend to send me my moulds from CA where i left them. If i am lucky, he just might send them before i die of impatience.
Why is it that when i finally get to blogging, all my thoughts evaporate? i mean, when i am doing other stuff like cooking or bathing, i think of the many thoughts i would capture and lay to rest in my blog. But i log in, click on new post and all that i can manage is mundane update nobody would be interested in. If there were such a thing as mental blogging, hell, i would have crossed some thousand posts.
i am forever glued to the 'rental' websites in search of a new place to rent. He wants a house with a garden. i just want a place that is near to my office and with two bathrooms. Most of the houses have only one family bathroom. i have this thing for bathrooms - having lived in a rented flat with one bath with my sister and having had to hammer at the door near about to burst, nothing would induce me to live in a place where i don't have a spare bathroom to run to. He sends me links to properties miles away from my office and kindly suggests i could take the bus to the office saying it will JUST take me 25 minutes. It is enough to want me to smash a commode over his head. The ones i suggest are either too costly - never mind it is less than what we pay now - or not in a neighborhood he likes. i suppose we are stuck in this apartment till they decide to raise the rent or evict us. Oh well...
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
The journey that was...
Once again, I left home, a teary- eyed mother, the sultry weather, the crowded streets, the feeling of being home- for earning in pounds..hell, I have my priorities wrong, I tell you. But here I am, in a place where the sun is too lazy to shine.
Of course, since we are cheapstakes we travelled by Air India - and also because they allow you to carry 46 kgs - almost my weight. And of course, it was a journey to remember. The night before the journey, at 12 in the night, the mobile rang and we were told the connecting flight from Kol to Delhi has been cancelled so could we please drag our asses over to the airport at 5 in the morning so they could arrange to send us to Delhi for our flight. That would mean getting up at 3 to get ready - I sorta panicked thinking about how early 3 is - it is an indecent hour to get up from bed except maybe to piss. He set the alarm for 2:30 - I tell you he is a sadistic b&@@&&£))$*€. I almost cried thinking about having to wake before the birds. Anyway, i did manage to get up and we were at the airport at 5. I was very surprised to see the world still existed at such early hours. After a lot of standing in queues, we got our tickets to Delhi by Jet Airways. After more hours standing in queue to get checked in, we finally boarded the flight. And it beats me why they serve so less portion on the damn flight. After Singapore Airlines, it is pretty much hard to travel by any other airlines and notcrib.
We reached our destination only to find one luggage missing - for the first tie in my life I faced the trauma of losing baggage.
We lodged a complaint and came home, tired and sleepy and cranky. And found the lift to the apartment not working. So he had to carry the luggage weighing a ton to the third floor. He, unfortunately, did not break his back -wow, that was mean even for me but remember he set the alarm for 2:30?
We heard that they have been able to trace the bag and they would be sending it over. Imagine! I had given up hope of seeing my poor flea market bought bag.
Of course, since we are cheapstakes we travelled by Air India - and also because they allow you to carry 46 kgs - almost my weight. And of course, it was a journey to remember. The night before the journey, at 12 in the night, the mobile rang and we were told the connecting flight from Kol to Delhi has been cancelled so could we please drag our asses over to the airport at 5 in the morning so they could arrange to send us to Delhi for our flight. That would mean getting up at 3 to get ready - I sorta panicked thinking about how early 3 is - it is an indecent hour to get up from bed except maybe to piss. He set the alarm for 2:30 - I tell you he is a sadistic b&@@&&£))$*€. I almost cried thinking about having to wake before the birds. Anyway, i did manage to get up and we were at the airport at 5. I was very surprised to see the world still existed at such early hours. After a lot of standing in queues, we got our tickets to Delhi by Jet Airways. After more hours standing in queue to get checked in, we finally boarded the flight. And it beats me why they serve so less portion on the damn flight. After Singapore Airlines, it is pretty much hard to travel by any other airlines and notcrib.
We reached our destination only to find one luggage missing - for the first tie in my life I faced the trauma of losing baggage.
We lodged a complaint and came home, tired and sleepy and cranky. And found the lift to the apartment not working. So he had to carry the luggage weighing a ton to the third floor. He, unfortunately, did not break his back -wow, that was mean even for me but remember he set the alarm for 2:30?
We heard that they have been able to trace the bag and they would be sending it over. Imagine! I had given up hope of seeing my poor flea market bought bag.
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