Words Make Sense

Sometimes, your fingers tap on the keys, and the words just emerge on the screen. It is a visible portal to your conscience. It's crystal clear with its sharp edges, but murky at times. The words are just a jumble of letters that do not gel together, and that is when words show the truest reality. 

Life is messy. Explaining it should not be easy.

Why It Is Hard For Women To Own Up To Their Emotions

Every time I throw a fit, which is pretty much every other day of the week, I blame it on PMS and hunger. But, I cannot be PMSing all days of the month, can I? (Note to self: Google if 31-day PMS is a physiological probability.) And while I agree that my levels of ghrelin are higher than that of leptin, I cannot be hungry when I had a satisfying sub and an oatmeal cookie an hour ago.
What brought this thought today - and consequently, this blog post, was a Gmail chat with my friend. We figured that what we had been feeling while the purported PMS cramps and hunger pangs were actual feelings but we usually do not admit to that. Why? What is it that is making me embarrassed to say, "I had a shitty day and I want to throw myself on the bed and cry a hurricane while wailing like a banshee", or, "I am scared and nervous about uprooting myself out of my comfort zone, and I am scared. OMG. OMG.", or, "I'm hurt that he led me on and now pretends like we were "just friends""?
In every other major crisis (excluding Helen of Troy), men are usually to blame. Here, however, we womenfolk cannot claim stake to a whitewashed conscience. Men have made an art out of gaslighting, and we let ourselves burnt in the fire - slowly roasting over generations. Now, we are too ashamed to show the scars or tell that it hurts like a bitch kicked dick. We let the men blame us and make fun of our emotions, and end up blaming ourselves and hormones. Emotions are supposed to be human feelings, and it's stupid to tag them as feminine. Life is sometimes a struggle, and often like a battle. And feeling something is a survival instinct or perhaps, the whole point of life. It may leave a scar or two, but I have earned them and I have learned from them.
So, the next time I am pissed off and you men think I am PMSing, I am actually thinking of hundred different ways to make you cry like a newborn baby. Period.

When is it time to delete your ex from Facebook?

Contrary to what you had thought, your happy ending is not with a certain someone. And you are kind of okay with it. But that does not mean you want to see his happy ending pasted right across your face, and your Facebook page.

So, is it time to cut the romantic relationship version of the umbilical cord? Erase him permanently, through the virtual networks? 

It is, I think, if:

a) You cannot stop snooping on his profile at least five times in five hours, and it is not making you feel better.

b) You type a message on his wall, and then backspace it.

c) Your statuses are getting more bitter, and someone else had to point it out to you.

d) His profile is the most visited page on your computer.

e) You are dreading the day Facebook launches the 'see who visited your profile' option.

f) You are keeping tabs on his active love life.

g) You don't have a love life, or a love, or life.

h) You did not notice how cute the boy standing next to you in the queue was because you were busy snooping.

i) Your friend suspects the cute boy was trying to talk to you.

j) Your Facebook password still is the name of the place where you went on your first date.

k) You are yet to change your relationship status despite knowing you are not getting back together.

l)  You are almost tempted to take the 'Who is your soulmate' quiz on Facebook.

m) You feel like a stalker, the creepy sort against whom a restraining order would be given in the real world.

n) You burst out crying looking at his profile picture.

o) The pics of your trips together keep popping up like bad tomatoes in the Photo Memories section in the top right hand corner of the page. 

p) You feel like pulling his sunglasses off, and stomping them into tiny shards of glass - something similar to what he did to your heart.

q) Unfortunately, you hate violence.

r) You are too lazy to actually stomp it, or even pull it off his face.

s) The thought of seeing him again makes you feel sick in the pit of your stomach.

t) You are glad it is over.

u) You are waiting for what's around the corner, fourteen miles down the road.

w) You could empathise with Robin in the How I Met Your Mother episode where she leaves violent voice messages on her ex, Don's phone.

x) A lightbulb struck in your head when she erased his number from her phone.

y) When she finally forgot Don's number, you felt hopeful for yourself, even though you know you have a photgraphic memory when it comes to numbers.

z) You'd rather be Robin in a good and actually funny sitcom than the creepy stalker female who gets killed at the end in a really bad thriller.

Disclaimer: Most of this is not autobiographical. (wink)

Lessons Learnt from 2010

1. Shit happens, especially when there is no toilet paper or a hand water sprinkler anywhere.

2. Cliches are annoying, and true. Especially the one that says, "Beware what you wish for", in a very Final Destination kind of way.

3. Swine flu is an epidemic; so is marriage.

4. You are still young to do things you are yet to do.

5. If you choose to, you can be too old to not do things that you don't want to do.

6. Mills & Boon is a phase.

7. Age is a number, concept, biological fact and more but actually, rather less.

8. You are more vulnerable than you realise.

9. You are stronger than you know.

10. Everyone has a psychopath in them, that in the right - or rather, wrong - circumstances, can be quite murderous.

11. Once bitten, twice shy. Twice bitten by the same spider, you will suffer from arachnophobia.

12. It is heartbreaking when plans don't work out.

13. ''To do" lists are comforting.

14. Not knowing what is ahead is scary.

15. Knowing what is not ahead is liberating.

16. The idea of possibilities is enough to look forward to another day, any day, day after day.

When I grow up...

I am 24 years young and the world (my family and married friends, to be precise) thinks I am getting old and have to get hitched and settled and do all the things boring adults do. I felt something was wrong, like how you keep trying all the keys in the keyring in your jammed cupboard door but none of them seem to open and you know that's not plausible - one of them has to work!

So I felt an annoying, frustrating feeling without actually feeling it. It was simmering somewhere beneath the surface of languid laziness that life had become.

And then, one thoughtful layer at a time, I peeled off to the crux of the matter. It had been resounding in my head every time I watched Disney channel and laughed along with Alex on Wizards of Waverly Place, every time I made plans to study further - study something drastically different from what I had been doing so far, every time I'd mistakenly check out schoolboys thinking they were older to me and then realise I was showing symptoms of pedophilia. I followed Justin Beiber on Twitter until I felt he was too old for me - too grownuppy. I realised it when I heard about young teenage achievers and told myself that I'll do something similar when I am their age.

Until then, until I reach my teens or grow up or whatever psychologists and adults have named that phenomenon where people get old and boring and then forget their life revolves a little bit around themselves also, I will enjoy my childhood.
I will watch cartoons after cartoons.
I will pout my lips whenever I am miffed, and I don't mean the Angelina Jolie pout, or even the Mallu porn film one.
I will stomp my feet in anger.
I will throw tantrums. Sometimes, I might even throw a brush or two.
I will respect junk food.
I will sing silly songs.
I will write silly songs.
I will dream about life ten years down the line when the knight in shining armour is just polishing his armour and thinking about coming my way.
I will not let my friends'and relatives' babies call me an aunt.
I will secretly think babies are creepy tiny adult human beings.
I will chop my hair off.
Go on adventures. And if there is not one anywhere in the vicinity, I will go on an imaginary one.
Cos babe, as long as you have a wild imagination, no shit can smear your face or pants, and best of all, it won't even leave a stinking smell behind.  

 I can't wait to grow up. No child can. 
But like all children, I never will.
A special thank you to the quirky, awesome people in my life who are the nitrous oxide in my chamber of mental conundrum.

Rapid Images

Once in a while, you stumble across something magnificent - a beautiful sight, a thought, an idea mostly and then, because in life, you can't do things in slow motion, you move on. And there is no rewind button either. But again, because the world is made of quirks, oddities and coincidences, you bump into something that reminds you vaguely of that elusive magnificent find. You are left with nostalgia for something you never had the time or opportunity to unravel. Pity. Reality. Does it matter?

Time passes so fast and thoughts even more rapidly before your eyes and inside your mind that all you are left with are vague images that you cannot be bothered to focus on. That is not a bad thing. Would you rather screen the travesty that your life is on the big screen or let it pass by in blurred pictures in an album that has mold inside the plastic casings, unsafely thrown away in some garbage dump. The latter, for better or worse, sounds like a better deal. Unless you find a time machine that can let you go back with a magnifying lens to find that one tiny little detail that can change your life for the best.

Okay, just forget what I said. I want a ride on a Batmobile. A time machine and changing my life can wait.

 

An old post at an old blog

People observe well when they are waiting. If you're waiitng in a queue, for the bus to come, for the shop attendant to give your change, for the traffic signal to turn to green- it doesnt matter what you re waiting for. At that time, your mind is blank as in you're taking a break from the task you were doin at the moment. But you're still edgy. So to fill in the time, you look around and see what the others around you are upto. could be subconscious too.

couple of days I was waiting like this for my sister's turn to get haircut. The salon was very busy due to it bein a weekend n all. So i waas looking at all the other people waiting with me.

There was the malayali lady who wantd to get her brows done for a company party(i dint know this by watching.we talked. and yea i did use my cunnin to get rid f her as customer. tol her dat her brows looked fine..no need to get it done n all).

thn there was this slim muslim north indian or pak girl who lukd very beautiful n delicate.she offered me seat and all.

then there was this overweight filipino. I kept wondering where she had got her clothes from. I could go and buy from there. She had gairsh makeup on and her hair was so str8 n all..beauty parlor product but i was like why would anyone want to look artificial?? I am 100%*100 sure dat she would look amazing sams makeup. and she looked really sad n all..not sad as in pathetic.sad as in glum expression on face.

and then there were the two sisters from my alma mater. nice malabari girls, only thing was they wrent from malabar. they wr from thrissur.

okie okie

now onto the most interesting..hmm thought-provoking subject in dat alcove of a parlor in the top floor of a mall in the heart of the city..

there was a mother and daughter..now the daughter was a child.hmm maybe around 5-7 yrs old..am bad at guessing ages..anyways she had to be a child cos she was small and all..she wud reach somewhr above my knees i gues..

she was wearing spectacles..the soda glasses thingy..but thing is she loooked SOOOOOOO GROWN UP..i wondered whether she had those height problems n all..lik dwarfism...her face was so mature..it wud hav fit on a girl in 20s..me had to scrutinise her face n actions to identify wheda kid or not..

it set me thinkin dat in this age of middle aged ppl actin immature n stupid and kids too smart n all..hmmm

n with no 'hasty generalisation'..i thot..

kids are like little adults..

adults are like overgrown kids.

hmmmmmm

Running out inside

After 23 years, I have run out of beginner's luck. I have quit my job and I still have not discovered what my special talent is. My relationship status is 'almost single'. I might have to marry a stranger soon. My finances will be in shambles within the next four months. I am getting more blind. I am losing hair but not much ounces of fat.

You look at others' mistakes and think to yourself," How could he not have seen that coming?"
Yes. How could I have not seen that coming?

Simple. Time suddenly decided to drink Gatorade and downed some shots of Bournvita, Complan and Vitamin syrup and decided to sprint ahead of Usain Bolt.
And you thought Mr T was my fairy-tale snail. Ha! Sucker!

Now, what do you do? You look around. Friends are getting married. The babies you knew are having babies of their own. And you count yourself lucky.

Time has not screwed me. I screwed it. I was an exceptionally lucky person but I did not take advantage of my quota. It's a law of the Luck Guardian: there is an equal measure of bad and good luck doled out in the world. So, I had my good luck when others were having a bad time. Now, my quota has run out and been transferred to someone else.

So, when you are down and out on luck, maybe it can help to think that someone else is having sudden brilliant change in life because of your rotten luck.

I still say I don't have a bad life. I need things to whine about. I don't want to be rich, beautiful and successful and happy. Actually, okay, I do but a part of me doesn't want to be. Because if I become all these, then what do I have to whine about and crack pathetic jokes about?

I have amazing friends. I still don't know how I got so lucky to meet soo many beautiful individuals. I wonder why the whole world isn't in love with them.

I have a sweet family. We don't talk too often, we meet once in a while. Still, in a weird paranormal genetical way, you understand each other. And the best thing about family is that you can hate them and yell at them, knowing that that doesn't mean they will stop loving you.

Steinbeck found his calling when he was old. Who am I in comparison? I may or may not find my calling. Though it would be welcome, it does not end life.

Romantic love? A part of me still believes in the explanation I used to give boys (yes! there were few) who told they liked me in school. It is a chemical hormonal thing that ultimately runs out. Still, I hope. and then some more. and then, I go out and get what, or who, I want.

I am getting older. So what? It makes being younger all the more fun.

Sour grapes and all that.

Still, it gives vitamins, right?

Random literally

I don't know about you. I hardly know about myself. 
I get confused when someone talks about showing humanity. Are they telling you to be kind or cruel?  
I like to snoop on people's lives but I could hardly care whether Big B is having a not-so clandestine affair with beauty queen daughter-in-law. 
I respect people who can tell the difference between lettuce and cabbage. Housewives are an underestimated, under-appreciated lot. And one major reason why is that they secretly think less of themselves.
A compliment on how well I have swept the house makes me feel better than when I received a salary hike. 
Whenever I write something, I notice the many I's in it. And I feel guilty. Should I apologise? Then again, isn't it better that I talk inane things about myself, than bitch about you?

Unrequited feelings

Written for a friend who likes a guy who is dense about her feelings for him. Men have an inferior sense of comprehension. It's in their DNA. He was just the appetiser, hon.
I sit beside him
and chat for hours
I smile at him,
Loving this time of ours
He grins right back at me,
What a wonderful place to be
Makes my heart go a-flutter
Melting like a bit of butter

But then, out of the blue,
Without giving much of a clue
He tells stories of his girlfriend
It’s so hard to comprehend
How she made him do this and that
Argh, he’s sounding like a doormat

And I…..
I am hopping mad
More so, I am even sad
I had liked him so bad
Wanna hit him hard
Right where it’d hurt
Why eva did he flirt?

When I first met the boy,
Didn’t feel so coy
As times passed by,
I fell hard, please temme why
We had a good time
Not knowing him would’ve been a crime

But then, out of the blue,
Without giving away a clue
He tells stories of his girlfriend
It’s so hard to comprehend
How she made him do this and that
Argh, he’s sounding like a doormat

I am hopping mad
More so, I am even sad
I had liked him so bad
Wanna hit him hard
Right where it’d hurt
Why eva did he flirt?

Ohh..Tell me… can you see
Was I ever so crazy??
Cos everything now seems soo hazy
I am hopping mad
More so, I am even sad
I had liked him so bad
Wanna hit him hard
Right where it’d hurt
Why eva did he flirt?

Cos everything now seems soo hazy
Was I ever so crazy??

Is it time to be sure that Obama is truly 'noble' to deserve a Nobel?

US President Obama came into the public eye very recently. His PR campaigners have to be commended for his fast rise and popularity. It’s not that I don’t like the man. Maybe, his heart is in the right place. But obviously, it’s too early to tell. He (and/or his PR firm) has said that it is the time for change. Even I could say that, but I don’t see any chances of the Nobel lying on my mantelpiece. If he had actually brought about some change, he could be considered a worthy recipient of the award.
Usually, the nominees are people who have devoted their entire lives to the cause of peace. It is hard to digest that the prize has brought novice Obama technically into the same league as an Aung San Suu Kyi, who lived in exile, separated from her family and not even seeing her husband before his death to bring about democracy in Myanmar.
Does “extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and co-operation between peoples” mean a message of hope and optimism? It shows our tragic times that the world is so hard put for hope and peace that mere “efforts” have to be showcased as the actual thing.
It’s too early to tell what Mr Obama is likely to do for world peace. I hope that the prize does not mean the culmination of the “efforts”. Results are too hard to expect, but continued and dedicated efforts would be highly appreciated.

New beginnings just around the corner

Wipe Out the Slate
Throw it Away
Grab Another One
Take A New Chalk
Start a Different Sentence
It Begins with A Single Letter
Slowly The Chapters Will Begin to make Sense
The Story of Your Life Is Yet To Unfold;
And It can be Re-written,
Over and Over again.
The Story of Your Life Is Yet To Unfold

Random philosophy (sic)

Written ages ago, when I was sitting simply and random thoughts flitted in and out of my mind.

I sit on the stairs
Random thoughts creeping up my mind
Shadows dance on the walls
I am swept away on the tide of time
The waves throw me back on the rocks
The beacon lights up the past
When the moon lends its glory
And shows the path to the ship yonder
That will take me on a new journey
To a destination of my choice

Forever is an intriguing concept

My stash of "sentimental" poems is "stashed away". Maybe, a shrink will have a field day about why I hesitate to show it to others. :) This one is fine cos it's more of a "I no longer care" thing. Very "in".

Forever is a long time

You threw it away in a second

an empty word that taunts

a promise not meant to be kept

Forever is a long time

It’s funny how the months we spent,

now seem longer than a lifetime;

no, no, not even worth a second

Forever is a long time

To be holding grudges

you are just a nasty memory

but the lesson you taught

will be remembered

and I will be grateful that....

forever....is a long time...

Thank you for making me realise ...that...

forever...is too long a time... to waste on you...

Am...

I have no clue about my state of mind while writing this piece. And I have a feeling it shows. :)

Questions remain unanswered
Time is my enemy
Even my mind shows me the wrong way
But it can’t affect me
I am larger than time
I am the question
That can’t be answered
I am the mind-reader
That can control journeys