Monday, October 12, 2009

DEFINING ME

The faster I go, the lesser I feel it.
The faster I go, the more still it feels.
But I gotta watch the speed...
Because hard as it might be to go up,
The Journey down, its fucking free-fall baby.

I was talking to a friend the other day, (mind you I was down a coupla beers), and telling her that I'm sick of the following things:

--managing a career, aka, making the 'right' moves.
--managing my money, aka, (the alien word) Saving.
--managing relationships, meaning-- keeping the various brackets happy (parents) (the best friends) (the friends) (the relatives) (the other half) (the facebook friends) (the boss) (even the frigging lady and the watchman)
--growing up, aka, less of the good stuff (beer, biryani) and more of the fuckall stuff (exercise, eggwhite salad)

Most of all, I'm sick of worrying about being the perfect everything.

We constantly feel like we could be a better mother, a better best friend, a better girlfriend, a better daughter, a better employee...blah blah blah. That word 'better' loses its meaning eventually and you forget to live your life.

So, comes the infamous question-- what does it mean to 'live your life'? Would you rather be 'impulsive and indulgent' and die of some cancer or heart disease type at 40, or would you rather life a 'safe, boring, but not sorry' life and die (or hope to) at 70+?

Please don't mention the word 'balance' or 'choice' in your solution...If I got ten bucks for every time someone has used those words..

We have 'choices', we don't choose them. We let others define what we are or we should be. I see many people around me (me included) defining themselves primarily through what they do.

'I manage XYZ dept for the XYZ Bigshot company.'
'My daughter lives in America and she's working for XYZ hotshot software company'
'My husband has become XYZ in just 5 years. It's a miracle'

And this troubles me.

Why is it not:

'I have 5 dogs and I love them!'
'My daughter loves to travel. She's in Europe loving her backpacking trip right now'
'My husband is passionate about music. It's amazing the number of records he's collected in the last five years'

Why don't we use the description of a person, those specific things that makes him that unique person, to introduce them? Why are we so confined by the boundaries of our occupation?

Why can I not be the Girl that writes, the Girl that loves the colour blue, the Girl that is a great sister, a great best friend?

Why do I have to be the Girl that works for some MNC or the other? Why do I have to be lesser than the other person just because I'm not with a famous company or a high level manager type?

Why are we so DEFINED by our occupation, although there are many, many more sides to us? Why has our focus become so damn skewed?

We're moving so fast... trying to build the best career, climbing that ladder faster, faster...when we crash, it'll be loud. Deafening. Because we ignored everything else that we were. Everything else that made us one whole person.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

@ DEXTER


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Bury it!
Drown it!
Stifle it!

Dark light
Loud storms
Black out
Opened up now.

Soulless
Pointless
Drifting
Floating.

Too many options
Too many directions
Watch out...
Dead man walking.


About Dexter

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

THE PORCH

I'm so happy that you're the one that was chosen to be with me on the Porch.
Loving that life has been good because we've seen many years together,
That we've grown wise together
That when we die when we're old, we die knowing that we've had the Porch...

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

LIKE ANY OTHER DAY

It was a day
Like any other day.
It was spring
Wind blowing around me.
Music to my skin.

It was a café,
Like any other café.
You were a boy,
Like any other boy.
Then you smiled.

A rendezvous,
Just you and me.
Not touching you baby
Was not easy.
But I waited.


As the night danced by
We sparkled.
Like little puppets
Jumping up and twinkling in the spotlight.
Everything felt soft.
Comfortable, yet electric.


We were talking
And just like that
I was in your arms,
We were dancing.



One kiss
One sigh
Changed the night.


Into a mellow,
Slow high.
We were floating,
Suspended in time.



And I dint want the morning to come,
The sun to rise,
The city to wake me up from this dream.


Wednesday, April 22, 2009

TWT (time wasting tactics) LESSON: How to not work at work and look hard at work.

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Lazy person (1)
Lazy day (2)
Laptops (1)
Computer screens (2)- one of relatively smaller size than the other
Bottle of water (1)
Nerdy pair of glasses (1)- the thicker and cloudier (making you lose sight of eyeballs), the better
Acting skills- minor to medium
Note pad (1)
Pencil (1)
High speed Internet connection (1)

Preparation:
(1) Switch on the laptop and connect the two screens
(2) Gently but purposefully don the nerdy glasses
(3) Angle the bigger screen towards junta who passes by your desk at work
(4) Put something very important that you’re working on, on that screen. You could use the pencil to scribble furiously into your note pad
(5) Use the Internet to browse tamil matrimony.com
(6) Garnish by donning a serious look on face to show how dedicated you are. You could add flavour by sipping on the bottle of water WITHOUT looking away from your computer screen- i.n.t.e.n.s.e. concentration.
Alternative methods:
a) Repeat Steps 1-4
For Step 5 try Social networking: facebook, myspace, orkut.com. twitter away.
b) Repeat Steps 1-4
For Step 5- dirty talk: with anyone on the Internet. Put one a new avatar- Pretend to be an old man from Hungary- perverted as hell, interested in learning and developing his sexual skills at age 83.
c) Repeat Steps 1-4
For Step 5- Instant Messenger: Whether it’s an internal IM or an external IM (Yahoo/MSN/Gtalk etc are common suppliers), ping somebody and ask them about their weekend and insist on them telling you every detail of the 48 hours they were away, even if they’re in a meeting.
d) Repeat Steps 1-4
For Step 5- Smoke break. Take a walk for a smoke break. Come back when it’s time for you to leave, pick up your bags and say bye sweetly.
e) Repeat Steps 1-4
For Step 5 Reality Shows- use the Power of The Internet to catch up pn the latest episode of American Idol, The Beauty and The Geek, MTV Roadies or even Kyunki Saas bhi kabhi bhainse thi.
f)Repeat Steps 1-4
For Step 5- Youtube: Switch on your webcam. Silently, make faces at the camera, show it the finger etc. Upload on Youtube. While you're at it, look at random videos- Susan Boyle, Charlie the unicorn, how can she slaaaaaaaaaaap saaar? etc.
g) Repeat Steps 1-4
For Step 5- Update your blog: Like I am right now.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

YOURS

I’ve never cared about how much I lived until I knew this.
And now for every minute of knowing this, I want to know a thousand more.

You’re like an orgasm.
When I feel for you, every cell in my body vibrates with that feeling.

I remember what I felt when you first looked at me.
It felt like strawberries and cream.
It felt like a soft bed after a long day.
It felt like coming home after twenty years of being at war.

With the world.
With myself.
With love.

And then love looked me in the eye.
And I was taken.
I was yours.

That day.
The next day.
And a thousand more.

Monday, March 30, 2009

UNTITLED


Courage.
It’s entering another world.
Being in a different body.
Facing the ugly faces
The different sides of you
You didn’t know.

Comfort.
It’s deceiving.
One day it’s there
Feeding off of
And into you.
The next day
It’s nowhere to be seen.

Complacence.
Is an ally of comfort.
They’re symbiotic.
Both sworn enemies
Of courage.

Balance.
The rogue that’s always
Missing.
Conflicting interests,
Raining storms inside of you.
But the sun seldom shines.
Balance does not make
An appearance.

Only Buddha claims to have found her
And tied the knot.



Friday, March 27, 2009

I HOPE YOU DANCE- LEE ANN WOMACK (lyrics)

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance

Friday, February 13, 2009

TWENTY SOMETHING- JAMIE CULUM (lyrics)

After years of expensive education,
a car full of books and anticipation,
I’m an expert on Shakespeare and that’s a hell of a lot
but the world don't need scholars as much as I thought.
Maybe I'll go travelling for a year,
finding myself or start a career.
I could work for the poor though I’m hungry for fame
we all seem so different but we're just the same.
Maybe I'll go to the gym, so I don't get fat,
aren't things more easy with a tight six pack?
Who knows the answers? Who do you trust?
I can't even separate love from lust.
Maybe I’ll move back home and pay off my loans,
working nine to five answering phones.
Don't make me live for my friday nights,
drinking eight pints and getting in fights.
I don't want to get up, just let me lie in,
leave me alone, I'm a twenty something.
Maybe I'll just fall in love that could solve it all,
philosophers say that that’s enough,
there surely must be more. Ooooh
Love ain’t the answer nor is work,
the truth eludes me so much it hurts.
But I’m still having fun and I guess that's the key,
I'm a twenty something and I'll keep being me.
doh dah duh dah, do duh dah dah dah
doh dah duh dah, do duh dah dah dah
doh dah duh dah, do duh dah dah dah
doh dah duh dah, do duh dah dah dah
I’m a twenty something.
Let me lie in, Leave me alone.
I’m a twenty something.
doh dah duh dah, do duh dah dah dah
doh dah duh dah, do duh dah dah dah
doh dah duh dah, do duh dah dah dah
doh dah duh dah, do duh dah dah dah

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

THAT 403 SHOW

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403

It’s a mad mad house.

It’s a beautiful house too. It’s a penthouse duplex (yep! reading correctly) with a beauty view that I have seen so many times that its scorched in my mind forever.
But most beautiful thing about it for me has always been the people who live in (yes, me included :D)

Carrie Bradshaw, you remind me in so many ways of this girl I used to live with… :P


This girl is so very strong and so very gentle. Someone once told me that you were one of those people who makes us feel one thing instantly- when we first meet you and even as we get to know you- we constantly feel like taking care of you. It’s strange, but true. Because my very second thought has always been fascination at how strong you are.
These are the rest of the words that come to my head when I think of you:



Fabulous. Sex and the cITI, shoes. long flowly skirts. Small clothes. BOOKS. Lots of them. All kinds of them. Food. Red pumps. Coffee day. Pasta. Dal chawal. Teachers (the alcohol, thanks much). Films. Daddy long legs. Serendipity. Omlettes. Really tiny spaghettis. Lots of boxes. Chandelier earrings. Fringe. Etc etc.
She did 403 proud for a year and half. She is missed as much as she misses.

___________________________________________________________________


‘"Hey my friend is also joining -Shes damn nice ok" - bloody nonsense! this is what someone told me abt madam arena and when she came and I tried being nice to her and she gave me so much attitude no-one tight slap!’

She’s a porky. She’s a tea drinker. She’s the permanent bar counter fixture. She’s the biggest fan of all the Khan Men. She’s the taboo rani. She’s the tissue in my hand. She’s the shoulder under my head. She’s the hand that holds the thermometer in my mouth. She’s the girl with ladle. She’s seen most often at Mummy and Me (although she’s not the Mummy or the Me). She’s a talli girl. She’s the dancer. She’s the bollywood night star. She’s the Karaoke night star. She’s empathetic, sympathetic. She’s loved and loves muchos. She’s a daddy’s girl. She’d be the ideal bahu. She’s the fab corporate woman. She’s the eye opening mentor or manager. She’s the fabulous fight. She is the determined strength. She’s the tv watching partner. She’s the foodie. She’s all about ther aerobix, the yoga, the kick boxing, the gym (!).

She’s the beauty. Of all the lives she touches.
My baby. Um.Moo.

I cannot say enough about what she means to me. I actually can’t say anything at all here. Because if I did, I’d gag all over the place even before anyone else did upon reading this.

All I do want to say though is that 30months in that house is too little. And by default of us being the longest occupants, as of today that house is You and Me. We love the house and I’m sure the house would cry and hug us right now if it could.

_____________________________________________________________________________


Enter …
Drumbeats please…
A BOY!!!


Huh?

Yep. 2008 early February, a temporary guest entered our girlie household. What happened? He almost become a She :P (seriously, he dint want to drink beers with his buddies anymore. He wanted to watch Nach Baliye with us).
He’s my first Konkani friend and the sixth person to live in the house. He came in transit and decided to stay in the place of transit because the X chromosomed atmosphere was just too good.

Before4andafter3 has been the technology bearer to the house.
Other than that intital spurt of display of male hormone, he has done nothing masculine. We killed it and we trained him. We love him. And we always will. We will marry him. Except we all have our own boyfriends.

If it wasn’t for this boy, 2008 would have been empty.
Night after night of drinking. Of damage controlling. Of dirty talking about Konkani food. Of talking about the lives of others and our own. Of dreaming about great futures and dealing with the present. Of singing obscene pop boy band songs with fist mics. Of being sappy. Of being emotionally drained. Of getting into serious trouble. Of watching TV. Of cooking (and him watching).

Of so many more things.

That 403 has been blessed. It’s been a soap opera. Two and half years and the stories of almost two dozen lives. There was
Drama
Comedy
Romance (and how many!)
Bitching
Tragedy
Backbiting
Domestic violence (read fighting with several maids)
Climaxes
Action (um on the very first housewarming party night.)
Drinking nights
Cleaning nights (after the drinking nights)

Oh the lives of 403. What a complete story.