This girl from Azerbaijan claims she's not from Central Asia, but Central Europe.
That's levels of Euro-Centricity even the coiners of the phrase hadn't imagined.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Today while talking to my mother on Skype, I suddenly broke down crying. We weren't talking about anything that could have induced tears, really. She was telling me about the usual stuff at home and how my dog was had chewed up all her new toys.
It's not about wanting to be home. It's perhaps the thought that I'm not sure I can go back. I'm scared too much has changed already and I won't be able to deal with the change. I still miss home. But I can't face the change.
It's not about wanting to be home. It's perhaps the thought that I'm not sure I can go back. I'm scared too much has changed already and I won't be able to deal with the change. I still miss home. But I can't face the change.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Iago-inspired
One of Iago's most stunning soliloquies - which I had the pleasure of using as an audition piece just last week - starts by him asking the priceless question: How am I the villain then? Sometimes, what has to haooen, has already been set in place. We're merely the tools. Agents. Recruits.
I asked myself the same question very recently: How am I the loser then? When it's you who's so undecided, conflicted and unsettled. I've emerged braver, stronger, albeit sadder. But at least I know where I stand. And what I want. And who I am. Whereas you. Will probably go through your entire life rebounding from one side to another. Hurting yourself the most ultimately in the process. How am I the loser then?
I asked myself the same question very recently: How am I the loser then? When it's you who's so undecided, conflicted and unsettled. I've emerged braver, stronger, albeit sadder. But at least I know where I stand. And what I want. And who I am. Whereas you. Will probably go through your entire life rebounding from one side to another. Hurting yourself the most ultimately in the process. How am I the loser then?
The colour had to change
I think I have a really strange relationship with my blog.
In moments of crisis, I keep away from it. Which is also the time I need it the most because it'll help me process and analyse my own thoughts better. So in the last few months, when I really needed some clarity, I stopped blogging altogether. It's almost as if I'm scared of the honesty that the blog requires of me, as if it's a hard taskmaster who'll demand that I actually address all that's bothering me and all that's wrong with my life and all that I can change and yet am doing nothing about.
But that's changed. I have written today. Written and re-written three drafts before I could actually write something post-worthy.
So what did happen in the past few months? A lot, really. A lot of things that caused upheaval, made me evaluate, re-evaluate, and re-re-evaluate people around me, and more importantly, my own judgement of them. It taught me (as upheaval always does) more about myself. That's what life is I suppose. And the "growth" they talk about. It's about learning more about yourself. Not the stuff you learn in school, college or your PhD research. The real lessons are the ones you learn about your own self. What you like, what colour suits you, what behaviour types match yours and no, I don't think those dumbass Myers-Briggs type tests are sufficient). I realised that my entire last year was one of healing. Without me even knowing. And without knowing, I seem to have slipped into post-healing-celebration mode.
2009 has had its hiccups already. But they're all welcome.
In moments of crisis, I keep away from it. Which is also the time I need it the most because it'll help me process and analyse my own thoughts better. So in the last few months, when I really needed some clarity, I stopped blogging altogether. It's almost as if I'm scared of the honesty that the blog requires of me, as if it's a hard taskmaster who'll demand that I actually address all that's bothering me and all that's wrong with my life and all that I can change and yet am doing nothing about.
But that's changed. I have written today. Written and re-written three drafts before I could actually write something post-worthy.
So what did happen in the past few months? A lot, really. A lot of things that caused upheaval, made me evaluate, re-evaluate, and re-re-evaluate people around me, and more importantly, my own judgement of them. It taught me (as upheaval always does) more about myself. That's what life is I suppose. And the "growth" they talk about. It's about learning more about yourself. Not the stuff you learn in school, college or your PhD research. The real lessons are the ones you learn about your own self. What you like, what colour suits you, what behaviour types match yours and no, I don't think those dumbass Myers-Briggs type tests are sufficient). I realised that my entire last year was one of healing. Without me even knowing. And without knowing, I seem to have slipped into post-healing-celebration mode.
2009 has had its hiccups already. But they're all welcome.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Merry Christmas
..and a happy new year. I'm back on the cold chilly island and tonight we're having a party. There will be lots of sangria, cider and good food from all over the world (the many joys of living in an international student community). But that's not really why I'm writing.
It's because I'm wondering if I've left a part of myself somewhere....
Friday, December 12, 2008
Tolerance
I had two teeth pulled out on Monday. I can't talk, can't laugh, can't eat.
My cable guy's giving me just one channel. I end up watching the movie playing on it.
It's got Bobby Deol.
It's called, as I later learn during the ad break, Bardaasht.
There are so many layers of meaning to this that I'm not even going to bother.
My cable guy's giving me just one channel. I end up watching the movie playing on it.
It's got Bobby Deol.
It's called, as I later learn during the ad break, Bardaasht.
There are so many layers of meaning to this that I'm not even going to bother.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Unpronounceable words
I had a very interesting conversation with a friend the other day. One in line of many interesting conversations I've had, with many friends, on several occasions, about same old same old... love.
This particular one was about how it's not easy to say "I love you" anymore. Forget "I love you".. even an "I like you" is not easy. But. You like each other. A lot. You wait all night just to hear from them. You have great conversations. You pretend to be friends. Hoping that you're actually, not.
It's the times we live in, she said. It's a lot more harder to say these things, there's a lot more at stake. Is it? I wonder. That just makes me feel very sorry for, us, that is, the human race, our society, whatever collective that follows this philosophy.
Which brings me to the second theory, which sort of links up to the earlier one.
About being a Love Buleimic. You know, the type, that takes it all in, but just purges it out. The one that falls in love, but half-heartedly. The one that is forever scared, forever holding bakc, and forever "taking it slow." What does that mean anyway? I mean, I understand the taking it slow theory, when you're still debating if you WANT to get into a relationship with X person or not, wondering if it's wise to cross the line from friendship into relationship. But when you've already decided, how much slow can you take? Surely, it can't be as simplistic as plunging into marriage/marriage plans from Date 1 onwards. No, it's also part of the let-me-see-how-much-I-can-hold-out philosophy.
That makes me really sad. Sad because I'm part of this world, of this belief system, that is embarassed about telling someone that they love them; of being "commitment phobic" (which perhaps is just a euphemism for 'I havent slept with as many people as I'd like to before I commit to one person for the rest of my life'), of weighing out the pros and cons of a relationship till the person actually walks out of your life... My only saving grace? That I'm probably self-reflexive enough to be writing all of this down.
It's funny. I lost my dog very recently. And at that moment, what I felt was just pure, unadulterated pain. I cried for days, and cried till I could cry no more. It's pain that I don't think I've felt ever, in my entire life. Not when I saw any other family death (so far it's been only my grandparents and in their age, death is somehow more acceptable, not when a relationship ended.)
And that got me thinking. This is unconditional love. It'll probably sound silly to anyone who's not an animal lover... but the kind of love you get/give a pet, is unconditional. A bit like what we imagine the love between a man and a woman to be, except that it's not. The grief at the end of a relationship has a lot of other issues attached to it - bruised egos, rejection, loneliness and sheer anger. Not sheer grief like you'd imagine if it were truly truly unconditional.
Because we're all too busy holding back. Taking it slow. Missing buses.
This particular one was about how it's not easy to say "I love you" anymore. Forget "I love you".. even an "I like you" is not easy. But. You like each other. A lot. You wait all night just to hear from them. You have great conversations. You pretend to be friends. Hoping that you're actually, not.
It's the times we live in, she said. It's a lot more harder to say these things, there's a lot more at stake. Is it? I wonder. That just makes me feel very sorry for, us, that is, the human race, our society, whatever collective that follows this philosophy.
Which brings me to the second theory, which sort of links up to the earlier one.
About being a Love Buleimic. You know, the type, that takes it all in, but just purges it out. The one that falls in love, but half-heartedly. The one that is forever scared, forever holding bakc, and forever "taking it slow." What does that mean anyway? I mean, I understand the taking it slow theory, when you're still debating if you WANT to get into a relationship with X person or not, wondering if it's wise to cross the line from friendship into relationship. But when you've already decided, how much slow can you take? Surely, it can't be as simplistic as plunging into marriage/marriage plans from Date 1 onwards. No, it's also part of the let-me-see-how-much-I-can-hold-out philosophy.
That makes me really sad. Sad because I'm part of this world, of this belief system, that is embarassed about telling someone that they love them; of being "commitment phobic" (which perhaps is just a euphemism for 'I havent slept with as many people as I'd like to before I commit to one person for the rest of my life'), of weighing out the pros and cons of a relationship till the person actually walks out of your life... My only saving grace? That I'm probably self-reflexive enough to be writing all of this down.
It's funny. I lost my dog very recently. And at that moment, what I felt was just pure, unadulterated pain. I cried for days, and cried till I could cry no more. It's pain that I don't think I've felt ever, in my entire life. Not when I saw any other family death (so far it's been only my grandparents and in their age, death is somehow more acceptable, not when a relationship ended.)
And that got me thinking. This is unconditional love. It'll probably sound silly to anyone who's not an animal lover... but the kind of love you get/give a pet, is unconditional. A bit like what we imagine the love between a man and a woman to be, except that it's not. The grief at the end of a relationship has a lot of other issues attached to it - bruised egos, rejection, loneliness and sheer anger. Not sheer grief like you'd imagine if it were truly truly unconditional.
Because we're all too busy holding back. Taking it slow. Missing buses.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Cyber Chor
I need to know what to do with hackers.
Sometime back my Facebook account had been hacked into and the bugger sent a pornographic message to everybody who's last names began with an S.
Yesterday, my gmail was hacked into.
A really strange mass mail titled 'Hey Friend' was sent out to everyone on my address book including: Former best friend and current psycho person that I have not spoken to for almost 4 years, Barcelona youth hostel where I stayed for a night, all the universities and scholarships I have ever applied to, sundry PROs, TOEFL, Editors of Indian Express, Mint, my own paper, my former paper, former boyfriend, whom again, I do not speak to anymore.
I mean. Do these assholes even KNOW what damage they cause?
My only consolation is that it wasn't pornographic.
Sometime back my Facebook account had been hacked into and the bugger sent a pornographic message to everybody who's last names began with an S.
Yesterday, my gmail was hacked into.
A really strange mass mail titled 'Hey Friend' was sent out to everyone on my address book including: Former best friend and current psycho person that I have not spoken to for almost 4 years, Barcelona youth hostel where I stayed for a night, all the universities and scholarships I have ever applied to, sundry PROs, TOEFL, Editors of Indian Express, Mint, my own paper, my former paper, former boyfriend, whom again, I do not speak to anymore.
I mean. Do these assholes even KNOW what damage they cause?
My only consolation is that it wasn't pornographic.
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