A Soul-searching Holiday

I come across some spare time and suddenly remember, I have a blog! It's been ages since I looked at it, so I decide to visit the blog, and realise it's been months since my last update!
Of course, it's been an enlightening duration. Over the last few months, I've reflected upon my life, done some soul searching, gone through ups and downs...
After a lot of crazy days, I woke up one day wondering what I was doing with my life. I guess that question pops up in my head every now and then. But I choose to ignore it. However, this time, I couldn't shake it off that easily. It kept nagging me, creeping into my mind when I least expected it to, until I realised I had to do something about it. I spoke to friends and family, hoping to get an outsider's perspective on my life. If I rely on my own judgement, I'm likely to look for a solution to the problem in the bottom of a bottle.
I did get a lot of 'feedback' from my friends, mostly all negative. Apparently, I was living recklessly. So I decided to give myself a time-out. Enough with the hustle-bustle. Enough with living life one day at a time. I needed a clearer picture. I needed answers.
Of course, I was not about to pull an Elizabeth Gilbert and travel around the world for some soul-searching. I don't have that kind of leisure time, nor do I have a publisher willing to finance my travels. So I opted for a quicker, cheaper, more effective method - 10 days at a Vipassana Centre in Igatpuri.
Everyone was shocked when I broke the news. Those who knew me well were confident that I wouldn't last a day. And it is quite easy to make that assumption. My weekends are a booze-filled blur, my meals are incomplete without meat and I cannot live without my cell phone. I had to give all that up. For 10 days. I can't make it to 10 minutes without my phone.
I knew it was going to be a challenge. And I love challenges. But this was a completely different one. 10 days away from civilisation. If a war broke out, I wouldn't know, because I would be living in this isolated little place nestled among the mountains.
Before I left, I made the most of my reckless lifestyle.I drank and ate to my heart's content, did a lot of things I'm not all that proud of, and worked like there was no tomorrow. And finally, one day, I packed my bags and set off to this new adventure.
When I arrived there, I was fascinated to see the crowd. 'It cannot be that bad,' I thought to myself. And surprisingly, it wasn't.
After a day or two, I got used to not having my cell phone around. The place requires you to maintain silence, and I realised how it gave me time to dwell on my thoughts without any external interruption. The peace and quiet was something I had never experienced before. No buzzing cell phones or blaring car horns. Just peace.Complete silence.
During these 10 days, I learnt to live with myself. And I congratulate all those who have lived with me so far, because I realise it isn't an easy task. I began to accept my faults, and worked on ways to improve them, instead of ignoring them all together. I managed to answer all the doubts I had in mind, and above all else, I manged to calm down. For the first time in ages, my thoughts were not fuelled by my emotions. I was thinking clearly, independently.
When I got back to life as we know it, I wondered how long this phase would last. When isolated from the world, all that I learned helped me keep an open mind. But how would it help me when I got back into the real world, where a distracting influential factor aweaited at every corner, waiting to sway my mind.
I got back knowing one thing - my happiness and my misery depended entirely upon me. I had to choose between them. And for once, I chose happiness. And it did come my way. In hoards. Sure, a lot of things are just the same. There are ups and downs all along the way. But at the end of each day, I now go to bed thanking God for all the good things I have. I wake up each morning hoping that the day will turn out to be a good one. And it does.
This happiness sure is addictive. But it is appreciated. And it's been a long time coming. I do hope that everyone shares this happiness some day.

Hakuna Matata!

Distracted and Deranged

Once again, it has been a long time since I ranted here. I can't help it, I'm going to blame Twitter for distracting me. For some reason, it's got me more hooked than Facebook. Sometimes, I feel my Facebook page is crying out to me, begging me to update my status, but I guiltily look away and proceed to sharing pictures and wishing people (If it weren't for Facebook, everyone would be pissed at me for forgetting their birthdays).

That's not the only thing that has been distracting me though. I've got another addiction - T.V. shows. Not the mindless Saas-Bahu crap, that is best left to its pathetic audience. My addiction is Dexter, Homeland, and recently, The Big Bang Theory. Needless to say, I've been busy watching episode after episode, leaving me with very little time to write here. I was discussing blogs yesterday when I suddenly remembered I have one of own. And I felt it calling out to me like a little lost child in a fair, calling out to its mommy. So here I am, putting work aside for a bit to connect with my dearly beloved blog and write some of my usual nonsense.

Actually, I do have something important to say. I need to thank someone. The creators of The Big Bang Theory. For creating a character like Sheldon Cooper. The Sheldon Coopers of the world make me feel happy about myself. They make me realise I'm not that deranged after all. Just the other day, I was almost about to fall asleep when my sister asked me, "What is the name of Ron Weasley's favourite Quidditch team?" And without a moment's hesitation, I prompted, "Chudley Cannons." At 12:30 am.

For a moment, I felt proud of my Harry Potter IQ. Then, it struck me. I needed a life. I'm 24 years old, I need to have prompt responses about financial investments or politics or other crap adults talk about. But I don't know shit about all those things. I stopped growing (mentally, not physically. Physically, I add an interesting number of kilos to my ever-widening frame on a yearly basis) a long time ago. Spot me among a group of adults and I'm the one lost in a parallel universe, barely talking, only shaking my head and provding the occasional 'so true' when social decorum requires it. But throw me among a group of kids, adolescents specifically, and I can carry out a lively conversation about things everyone understands.

Again, not my fault. I can't understand numbers, I don't give a fuck about politics and the investment experts can kiss my broke ass. What I do understand is that a world filled with fantasies is way better than reality. What I also understand is that parties are the place to crack a few jokes about the Kardashians, bitch about work and pass filthy comments about people I don't like. My mother's birthday party had her friends discussing relatives in the hospital and death and such other matters that made me drink a little more than I intended to. Good for me, I can maintain sobriety even at my drunken best. Although I should've let my wild side show just a little bit. Would have added some much needed life to the party.

And with this soberly drunken note, I choose to end this post. Not because I'm out of thoughts. Because people are beginning to notice me smiling weirdly at my machine, and if I do that for too long, I'm going to be saddled with work. So Adios, friends and foes. Until next time. Hopefully that's before the year ends.

Dear Eddie

This is a poem I wrote for a friend who began sulking just because we played an interesting prank on him. He can be quite the drama queen, so I wrote a poem as an apology.

This poem is dedicated to my personal Google


We’re sorry we pranked you.

Instead we should’ve thanked you

For being such a lovely friend.



For constantly entertaining us

And always advising us.

On you we completely depend.



Oh Eddie forgive us.

Be nice and talk to us.

For what joy can come from being mad?



Our sense of humour is sick.

Our heads are awfully thick.

And we’re sorry we pranked you so bad.

Holidays

I love mid-week holidays. I do. I love them more than I love the lasagne at Mocambo's. And I usually plan to do lots on a holiday. And surprise surprise, it never goes as planned.

After working for two years at a place where planning is as important to work as the Bible is to Christians, I should know that I never end up sticking to the damn plan. EVER. Everytime a holiday approaches, I have grand plans of -
1. cleaning my room until it's fit to be a part of the Buckingham Palace
2. going out for a long, lazy lunch, followed by a nice afternoon browsing through books
3. a refreshing nap
4. a walk down Marine Drive
5. catching up with friends
6. watching a movie and
7. visiting the nearest dessert place.

Now this may seem achievable to normal people. But for me, this would require a whole week. I'll tell you why -

On a holiday, I tend to start my day only around noon. There goes the cleaning plan. When you wake up at 12, there is only so much time you can spare to clean your room. All I do is look around the room, carelessly shrug and think to myself, 'it isn't that dirty' and fall back into bed. After what seems like a monstrous effort, I get out and forget all about stepping out for lunch, heading straight to the dining room and gobbling whatever's been cooked. Browsing at bookstores is completely forgotten as I head back to bed for a ridiculously long nap.

Before I know it, the day is almost coming to an end. I wake up around 6 pm, with a massive sleep-induced headache, only to realise that a walk is about to make me feel worse (my medical theories will baffle all practitioners, but they actually work on me). So I stay at home, reading a book I've probably read a 100 times before. Friends can catch up with me via texts or emails; I'm no longer in the mood to step outside my room.

And just like that, the holiday is over. It's time to get back to work. Sleep is no longer my constant companion, it evades me until the wee hours of morning and returns on a holiday. I'm starting to think my brain hates me. Which is why it puts me through crazy bouts of insomnia all through the week, then makes me sleep all day long on a holiday only to make my head hurt worse than a hangover. I think it's revenge for making my brain work overtime, thanks to the ADHD.

Now that I have a 5-day holiday coming up, I'm about to plan realistically - I will visit my parents, laze all day, plop down on the couch and watch TV while my mother happily lectures me on my ever-expanding waistline and engage in pointless arguments with my father. That seems easily achievable, don't you think?

My Dad's on Facebook...

A few months ago, if someone told me that my Dad's going to be using his Facebook account, I would have laughed hysterically. My dad's not the type to update statuses, post pictures, befriend people he knows and so on. Sure, I get some of my 'crazy' genes from him; he is often heard declaring that he will remain '18 till I die'. Not surprising. But the age doesn't really help him improve his technological IQ.


Of course, he knows the basics. But his idea of optimium computer use is probably hours of playing Free Cell. It always amuses me when he discovers a 'new' aspect of the internet. A few years ago, he couldn't quite comprehend why the videos on Youtube would just pause randomly while playing. I explained the 'buffering' idea, and what a conversation it was! He seemed to think it was some kind of miracle! It still amuses me when he calls me up every other day to talk about some new site that he discovered, and I have to burst his little bubble of joy and warn him about internet scams.


If I look at it from a different perspecitve, I see a role-reversal happening. There was a time when I asked questions galore, and Dad patiently answered them (often not very seriously though). I would discover something I thought was unheard of, until my Dad would very sweetly tell me that it had been around for centuries. And now, I update him on the evolving world of technology...not that my knowledge of it is vast and unlimited. To my geek friends, I am a tech-blonde (pardon the stereotypes, I can't always be politically correct). But it's always fun to hear from Dad when he tells me about a new website that he discovered, or some other new thing he learned.


The weirdest though, was when he told me he logged into Facebook. Over a year ago, I helped him create a Facebook profile. I didn't see the dangers of having him on my friend list back then. All I thought was, "Huh! It's not like he's about to check updates on a daily basis'. A year later, he proved me wrong.


I was talking to him the other day when he commented on my profile picture. I stood up with a jolt and wondered how the hell he saw it. Not like I post questionable pictures, just insane ones. The picture we're talking about right now, is me wearing a 'Mickey Ears' hat. No pun intended, but my Dad had fun taking the mickey out of me on that one.


I started asking him if he read any of my updates, and of course, he had. Which means I need to start behaving myself on Facebook now. No more creative abusing. I need to tread lightly. Of course, I can always do that on my blog. He has no clue I have one. I think my lunatic adventures can seek a safe shelter in this space.


Good luck finding this one, Dad :)

Aah, rains!

It's a lovely Saturday afternoon...lovely for those who aren't working. The weather couldn't get any better. It's dark and gloomy and pouring steadily. Call me morbid, but I'd pick the dull, gloomy weather over sunshine any day. That's how much I love the rains. And yet here I am, updating my blog as I pretend to work, instead of splashing around in the puddles made by the rain.

All I long to do right now is go home, tuck in with a steaming mug of adrak chai and my book. I'm reading 'Game of Thrones' right now, and it is really difficult to put that book down!

For now, I'm trying to concentrate on work. I'm not just saying this in case someone from work is reading this article, I genuinely am trying. But there's way too many distractions. The rain outside, for one. And the bacon sandwich on my table. My neighbour, quite correctly labelled as my evil twin. And of course, twitter. I love twitter. I may not tweet that often, but I love reading funny tweets. This doesn't mean I'm cheating on facebook. I still like facebook. Twitter is just a welcome change, and a little more acceptable (read: unheard of) at work.

I've procrastinated enough. I must get back to work, if I want to leave at an acceptable time. Chow, for now.

I'm Confused

Isn't it tough, when you gotta choose,
between a slice of cheesecake and gooey chocolate mousse?

When you're late for a party and pulling out your hair,
'cause you just can't figure out what the heck to wear?

When you're at the cash counter and really can't decide,
if those boots will look better in black or tanned hide.

Here's what works for me, it's a simple trick to try,
Just pull out a coin and flip it, before you start to cry.

Confusion makes you crazy, it messes with your head,
It makes you think you're better off without it instead.

But don't you worry, confusion isn't all that strong,
Just flip the coin and choose a side and watch it run along.