Let me tell you

About Goa. We decided to save us some money and took a bus onward and a flight back. The Bus: I quite liked the bus even as it took a good 17hours ,but A looked nauseated after the first five hours. I found a couple of baby cockroaches intent on raiding my cutlet packet! There were quite a bit of foreigners mostly British I think on the bus. There were these two girls-very young with their backpacks and so on. When we stopped for first tea and then dinner they wore their shorts and tops and stepped out and sadly when they were crossing the road to get snacks from a shop opposite these guys on a bike flew past and screamed a word I care not to repeat here. They first smiled tentatively but looked uncomfortable almost immediately. It just threw me into this rage and I wished I had been closer to flip them off. This kind of stayed with me a bit and as I was following the Delhi protests and the deluge on FB and later when we were returning from Goa too. Because we hired a cab back to the airport and half way through the cab driver said, yehan se we will take a short cut. He said once more and suddenly I was all alert. And the way he took us through was this crumbling bad road with no human signs anywhere and the paranoid in me beat so loud convinced that he was taking us somewhere to rape me and beat A down and I couldn't think straight for the next few minutes till we reached the main road. How unbearable it must be to live in such a state of constant alert fear-fullness.

Goa itself turned out to be relaxing. One thing we had to remember was that when our mums asked we had to lie about having been there before. We could really just tell them that yes, we were there about four years ago but since we already lied it would mean an uncomfortable moment and I suppose I am actually all right with lying to their faces when it means one awkward moment reduced. Nevertheless we ate--nothing worth writing about save for this place called Lila Cafe at Baga which had the best food I had in the whole trip and Thalassa was great too I suppose except it was dark and what we were paying for was for the view and not the food-which was meh--or maybe I ordered wrong. Going by all the comments, we went to Brittos too and again I wasn't particularly happy. I think Kerala does fish better. Although the Goan dessert-Bebinca-- was so utterly fabulous that I want to learn all the secret touches to making it so fabulous. I also wanted to try Shark Ambottik but finally somehow forgot about it.

A and I had a good time. At home we somehow get way too much on each other's nerves and although we let it go fairly fast it is still quite tiring to be so annoyed with each other. Which was why Goa was good for us. At Thalassa I ran into someone--actually I saw and hid from someone is more appropriate-- I knew from long ago. I have really nothing against her except she belongs to a part of my world that I try very hard to repress and so I panicked and I needed a minute to be normal and ended up a little abrupt with A, to his suprise. Outside while on the bike, I told him and he was decent about it. And then. God of coincidences must hate me because at Cochin airport I turn around and run straight into her.We were on the same flight apparently. She gave me a warm hug which made me feel quite cheap but again my instinct was to somehow run away and she said, let's meet up and I agreed thinking it would be one of those things people say to get out of a situation. But she did mail me and now I suppose I ought to go. A says when someone tries that hard they deserve a gesture back. All true, all so true.

It was my Dad's birthday and knowing that only me and A would be wishing him, we called him. His evil alien mother must have wished of course but anyway he was subdued and yet eager which hurts each time. And he asked will you come stay with me. And I when ambushed cower and stutter and he said, I am coming on 6th!!! to Cochin and then you can come back with me and stay for a few days. And to that expectant silence I had to say, let me check and call you back. How impersonal and how hateful. Also I had the most meanest thought when he said 6th. I thought thank god, it's the days when I am with P, so I will only have to struggle so much. And then of course I gave me hell about it. But I have decided I am done done done with trying to help. If this is their destiny let them figure it out.

I have also not been reading enough but making Amazon book wishlists instead. Which btw is a fabulous fabulous list. Let me give you a short insight.

Four New Messages-Joshua Cohen
How should a person be- Sheila Heti
The Liar's club-Mary Karr
Raag Darbari-Lal Sukra Sri
The Complete Essays-Montaigne
Salvage the Bones-Jesmyn Ward

aaand more.

We had a good anniversary and it's three years of being married and I am happy to report that being married is really a good place to be and I had never thought that was possible. Maybe three years is a milestone of signal catching because we are able to decode most of each others grunts and other sounds which is quite interesting and so onward to more and so on.

To sum up

I have had enough.

The one thing that makes me happy is Amma, V, and food and even that seems to be not enough. I cant believe how sick I have been. In the three and half weeks I have been here, I am on a healthy dose of medicines--antibiotics-- that too for about two weeks! The only decent thing about this ordeal is that A got to meet my patient doctor. Amma isnt nagging me much about my immunity because A fell sick too. Thank god! Even though its a horrid thing to say, thank god! Amma would never have been this less full of comments had it been just me.

The food while it still holds its sway over me is simply not enough anymore. I mean yes, it makes up for other miseries.

My parents havent talked for more than four months now. And oh thank you god, thank you so much for making sure that A got to witness it first hand. I thank you whole- heartedly for that awkward embarrassing oh so shaming days where my dad stayed home for FIVE days and did not eat food at home or speak to anyone save for me and then left after fighting with me and announcing that "this was all my fault, because if it weren't for my women's liberation talks, Amma would still have been... " What? Please complete this sentence dear father.

Then there is Amma, of course with whom 90% of the time I only feel this all consuming maddening need to protect and love and god knows what which I am sure is annoying after a point except that I don't realize it in time and thus all my protection schemes end in " why the hell doesn't anyone appreciate what the fuck I am doing" = tears= wailing= A looking like a poor traveler stuck midst lunatics. While some of this might sound funny, it truly is not.

I got ''thondaled" already. And he got slapped on his arm because that was my instant reaction. I should really have slapped all my anger on him. Then the day gets better when a car knocks its rear view mirror on Amma's arm and then they have to stop and a crowd gathers and we all yell back and forth.

Then there was the Guruvayur trip. Hello God. Recognize me? He must because I spend two and a half days there! You surely saw me wandering around, sulking from moment-moment. I tried my best to put on my bessht face for A's mum because I think she deserves it for all the love, and non interfering mother in law that she is but despite my intentions sometimes it became too much. Some astrologer had told her that we were to spend a whole day in the temple/24hrs. So there we were. On an evening, then the whole of next day and then the next morning, I decided enough, let them go and slept in.

What happened to Sri Lanka trip? Not going to happen. I wont get into whys but at the end of it we are off to Goa and guess what the holy fuck is happening today? Chums with its ten heads of pain! I don't have the minutest of energy left for "fun"

What's going to happen to me

When people said that they get 'anxiety attacks' that made them numb I classified it as an 'American disease' and then when they said they take medication for it, I thought, isn't that just fabulous. I am pretty sure I said 'first world problems' in my head. I am so judgey when it comes to medicine/diseases and books/ authors. I have this huge belief in mental strength and I always feel that I will get over anything with just the right dosage of pragmatism, friends, husband, and my general pessimism. Sometimes I test myself by putting me in different horrid scenarios.

But today I don't feel so good. I made the stupid mistake of imagining me in a situation where I have had multiple miscarriages. I was chatting with my aunt -the one with whom I had issues?-- and when I thought of how she went through it all, I felt convinced, no, I am not really that strong as I imagine myself to be.

I think I have just too much time on my hands which makes me go into all unnecessary areas. I keep wondering whats going to happen to me and all I see is chugging chugging, and boom, ten years down and I am nothing. You know that numb feeling at which I had eye rolled? Yeah you can feel numb with panic apparently.

And all these issues with my parents. When the fuck can it end. Its end of my tether and everything that happens around seem like signs that I should heed but the more I try the high road, they bring me down to the lowest levels. and now I have family members involved, people calling each other. I would like to think I am a pretty private person. I intensely dislike having people speak to me about dirty laundry and now I have to respond because I feel goaded into responding and its terrible to have to answer people and feel like you should convince people that you are doing your best. People who have no business in anything. And I don't have a job which might have taken my mind away and I don't have any stories and I don't have anything to look forward to and I just feel angry most of the time, but I don't want to bother A who has his own troubles. I don't have anything right now. And I cry and I feel stupid because i am not crying over anything solid-like if you wanted to console me, there is nothing you can pin point on and solve for me or ask me to solve-- and now I feel silly because I am old enough to know better. What the fuck am I crying over. And I am pretty sure no one gets this because you know, it could have been worse.

This sounds like quite the teenage angst post. Except ''m no lngr a teengr"

November -Books and Movies

Books:


The Newlyweds: Nell Freudenberger ***

Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self: Danielle Evans

Updates

So I am in a low that seems to be not passing over. I don't want to infect my lows on the boi so there is a bit of an effort which actually as it turns out, is a good thing. Because every day I take it out at the gym and now that I am past that initial point where I just wanted to die, I look forward to it! I recognize the regular folks, we nod at each other. I hate The Turtle who is still sweating pools by my machine but I can even overlook that. My clothes feel slightly loose- just slight.lee. but that is enough for now.

I wasted the whole of last week watching re runs of Grey's and reading very little and writing zero words. I have no excuses.

I have a few future plans all of which depend on getting the Green Card so not much I can accomplish for now. I thought of applying to a Phd but I can't do long distance anymore and neither can I struggle with stupid visa issues so everything EVERY SINGLE THING will have to wait for a bit.
Although this sounds like a grand excuse to do nothing, it is quite the truth. I have decided to do just two stories for now and try to publish them. In decent places. It has to be step one. I have a couple of contests that I need to send these things to. I can't repeat how utterly lonely this whole thing is. And it's been just two months since program ended. How do I do this for two years?

I need to buy some gifts for Ammas' and I have zero gift ideas and they are not really helping.

I have been trying to cook things up, because that always is a bright side. But even that has become tiresome.

ok. 

October: Books and Movies

Books:

Half a life: V. S Naipaul ****
Aerogrammes: Tania James ***
Sir Vidia's Shadow: Paul Theroux

Movies:

Le Havre: Aki Kaurismaki

I think I will take a moment to write about this. This is my second movie from the director and the appeal (for me) is how his view of the world is to see the harsher realities and yet attempt to trust/ believe in the best in a man. The film is often sentimental but never loses awareness of where its set and what it deals with.
It pretty much says: Every man can be a better man and it succeeds in showing it.
What it does well without fan fare is show the sense of community, of people reaching out with no demands or expectations and in that it seems almost fairy tale like. Such communities, do they still exist?

The Bicycle Thief: ( I don't know why IMDB lists it as Bicycle Thieves)-Vittorio De Sica

Rosetta: Dardenne Brothers

Usthad Hotel: ** Started out all right, ended almost whiny and moralistic. In other words, wrenches emotions it hasn't earned simply by virtue of tugging at your heartstrings with visuals of the impoverished. I really wanted to like this movie, because I adore how Anjali Menon speaks and I think very highly of her but even so nothing can excuse the ending of this movie or the predictable-ness in which the latter half moved along or rather hummed along.

Thirakadha: Ranjith: It was all right. Nothing I would recommend too highly. Can.Not.Stand. Prithviraj. Please. Stop.

Oru CheruPunchiri: M.T Vasudevan Nair ****

Absolutely brilliant. I had forgotten the joy of reading M.T and watching this just flooded my mind with such lovely memories. Oduvil at his best and the actress who played his wife, so elegant. In 40 years I would be so glad if A and I could just be like this couple.

A SLEW OF BAD MOVIES:

When I have cramps I attract bad movies apparently and hence:

The Tall Man: ** Oddity, a little crazy, can be hit or miss.

The Lazarus Project *-- Actually it had a fairly interesting idea, I suppose.

Absentia : BOO YOU
Case 39:  :/

Womp

One of the things I hate about small cities is their take on Chinese food! Like for real, Beef and Broccoli doesn't count! I always visit Chinatown whenever we go anywhere and we always end up having some of the best chinese food possible. In New York we found Korea town and boy! It was hell of a wait but absolutely worth it. Small little place, buzzing with food and noise and minor accidents. Someone got confused and brought me something to do with an egg in a bowl which I hadn't ordered and the waiter said, oh well, on the house. See me grinning?

Boston too had one of the best China Town areas. There was this cafe called The Gourmet Dumpling House next to Eldo's cakes! There must have been approx ten tables and many a time I coulnt find anyone to go with me and I was craving their beef and peppers and fish stew and so I would arrive alone and be seated at a table of four with random folks. Once a guy started talking to me and upon asking what I was doing proceeded to tell me his life story punctuated frequently with: I have lived THE LIFE. And he insisted I try his dumpling soup.

So in Bloomington I hate the chinese food with much passion and I refuse to go. So the other day we were hungry and so we ended up going to this Korean place. Korean places are definitely better and usually home run so delicious food. And we found that this place had many of my favorite dishes. Grilled whole fish with soy bean paste soup which usually uses Mackarel but the lady said they use Yellow Croaker. I wasn't sure what it was, but A seemed willing to try and we ordered two other dishes that were so extremely flavorful and the chicken in it breaking off the bone with just a tiny nudge!
The Yellow Croaker as it turned out was fabulous.

5STARS for Cafe Dami.

It was bound to happen

I always, always insist on maintaing a healthy distance from family. It is seriously the only way to keep things 'cool'. And except my sister, this is my motto for everyone. And so when A's aunt and I got close, I suppose I got a little carried away. You see, I hate all my aunts. They are disgusting gossips and   thorough manipulators and I cannot bear to be around all the double standards. And recently whenever I speak my mind, they sort of attribute it to "Amerikan ness". The standard dialogue being, " Nee veliya America kari ayi alle?" You have become so Americanised. I actually don't understand this, I have ALWAYS said what I feel/ thought with people I give two crap about. The irony being with people I care, I can never as easily be blunt. So I didn't quite grasp how a country has anything to do with it and while I get that its based on some kind of obvious misconceptions about the USA, these kind of accusations serve no purpose with me except for me to really, actually mock them.

And so when I met A's aunt, it was a great pleasure. She seemed very different from the women I was used to. Level headed, fun to be with, could take a joke, I could have long conversations with her about politics, books, actors, directors, clothes, almost everything.
Even before A and I got married, we began talking on the phone. This was when I was in India. And then when I got here, we became closer. And then I ended up in Boston where she was and we began to see more and more of each other. Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years and so on. She and her husband--who I adore-- don't have kids and they are mostly positive about it. They travel, they live well and for most parts they are happy.

Now you see, giving up my motto was a mistake. While I was happy in their company, I would also sometimes feel a little miffed at something she says. But the thing is I am quite the pushover and mostly unable to react except to smile awkwardly and try to brush it off, but then these little incidents--un addresed begin to crop up. The only way for me to get over a situation is to say: this bothered me and i don't want to discuss it till I feel calm enough to talk to you about it. And with A, we both try to do it. I will say: I am quite hurt with what you just did for so and so reason. but with the Aunt this proved very difficult because unless you have years backing up your relationship, these things will mostly end in irreversible damages.
And not to mention my horribly sarcastic tongue which just lacks control once allowed to react. So our relationship has been smoking a bit for a while now. Once I reached Bloomington, I was a little depressed and needed to be just quiet. I talked mostly to only P and A and Amma to whom I admitted how loser-like I am feeling and for once she actually seemed to get it. So a week passed and I hadn't texted The Aunt and I get this message from her asking what is with the silent treatment and that if this is how it continues that she might just stop trying with me.
It almost felt like we were in some kind of conjugal relationship, one where I had to report in.

One thing I have learned from my ill fated relationships is that the minute someone wants a little more from me that I am willing to give, I instantly despise them. Its a character flaw- I admit. But clingy-ness makes me jump and twitch. And to this text, I said I am just laying low. And she replied: Well, I can't be the one always trying. I texted last time, too.

You see, what is the problem with this? I admit that if P or June went missing for a week and more without saying anything, I would check in. I am also petty enough to remember who checked in/ called  last. But The Aunt has laughed at these things. She has said, my god who on earth keeps tab of these kind of details?
Me. Me. Petty people like me, I wanted to shout. And so it was with a little surprise that I realized so does she! I found myself quite disgusted with the whole situation. I like up front ness, I don't mind admitting that I am silly like that, that I keep tabs, scores. Thats just how I am. But so are you.

So it went on. My little mountain of grudges and pettiness which basically blew up today. Because instead of shutting up or laughing it off, I ended up saying what I really felt. And then I said: I need time, so lets talk later.

I do love her, I do. She is mostly harmless, quite lovable except for these pretentiousness and sometimes she can be quite high handed but even so, once I love someone, I love them till I can. Till something that catastrophic happens.
Now I will need plenty of time to get over it. Typically what I do in these situations is dip into the little reservoir of happiness that is stored away with each person. Memories and gifts and moments let me get over things faster but to reach that stage will take a bit of time.

And meanwhile, my heart is racing because it was so difficult to say what I thought.

Look at what I was up to

Why some things should never happen

Yesterday was a sad day. One of my problems is that once I think of something in the past, then its a downward spiral of all things in the past. This video I went looking for after reading about it and it broke my heart a hundred times over.

The video is basically about a teenager who was bullied and then committed suicide. This video, she made a month ago before her suicide and there is just so much wrong with a world where someone posts about how they wish they had at least one person and makes that effort to come out of the terrible anxieties and is met with hostility and then just gives up.

This girl made only what I assume is a common enough mistake. To go on the internet and chatted around a bit, and when a guy asked, she flashed him and then it just came back to haunt her. And how it came back is what is surprising. The same people/ classmates etc who bullied her for it, I bet these same folks have done similar things, except this girl got unlucky. She got a FB message informing her that her pictures were in this man's hands and that he would do things unless she put on a show and then he made a profile with her boobs as his profile picture and she changed schools, she moved away, she tried to get rid of it but it just wouldn't stop.

This is one of my biggest fears/ suspicion/ hatred for Facebook. It's creating this whole new monster version of bullying. Once I suppose it was possible to get home from school and at least till the next day be safe from the bullies but now there is nowhere. This term "cyber bullying" doesn't exactly apply here, and is reductive to use because this girl was blackmailed and threatened.

Once long long ago a disgusting piece of shit creature tried blackmailing me. It was sudden and it took my breath away and I was dealing with shit and suddenly here was this entity. I absolutely didn't know what to do. This creature wanted to get back with his girl friend who was my friend and he said I need to somehow make this happen or else.
What he had on me was fairly huge but my immediate instinct was that this person wouldn't go away even if I tried to talk to my friend and true enough, soon this motherfucking piece of shit was asking me to meet him in his "bachelor pad".

I had to tell someone and I picked my father when this horrible man started calling on my landline in quick successions of 6-10 calls and then hanging up. Then at around mid night I would get texts that the creature is outside my house and to prove his point he would honk repeatedly. Then I found creature outside my college gates just standing around. I cannot tell you how my heart beat and beat. I felt convinced that I was headed for something terrible. My father-bless his soul- was as bewildered as me. And hurt. He was so hurt that I would have done anything at that point to wipe it all off. But I also needed support. My father picked up the phone and asked quite calmly, what do you want? And when the creature replied, my father said, we know. And if you call again, I will have the police call you.
And so it ended.

But if I didn't have Achan at that point, if I didn't have anyone, if I didn't have Parus, I know not what would have happened to me. I feel certain if FB had been a culture then, I might have been in more trouble. If only, if only everyone had someone.

You would think that this little girl's video would change some hearts but then you read the hate comments and the "I am glad she is dead comments" and you think-this can't be. This world cannot be this harsh that a dead girl is trolled.

Vacacione

Sooo. I had to have a talk with my Amma about not bugging my sister! It was most painful and surprisingly didn't turn in to a fight--which is only because I think she recognized that I wasn't being unfair. Amma basically doesn't have anything to do which in turn means she has taken over V's life which means V is losing her mind which means texts screaming ' I can't do it anymore' which means helpless me which means overall sadness.
So I said all the right things and Amma thankfully didn't say the usual sentimental lines which serves no purpose to V but manages to trick me into feeling guilty.

For e.g her response on any given day is : I know, I know, I have no shame, bothering you both like this when you have abused me so much. Still I come as though asking for more.

to which I say: are you auditioning for some Tamil movie? lines sure sound like it

Her: you will laugh now, but when I am dead...

Aha.

This dead clause is such a mother trick which I think I am the only one who falls for.

So now I am dreading the upcoming home trip. She has nothing to take care for me now so she has this thorough not exactly new (except in the earnestness) interest in my health which no matter how many times I tell her, she won't believe is fine.

So she said, bring your health documents from the surgery. To which I said, yes. Knowing very well I have no such documents. What document? They took the appendix and now I am fine. But she says that pain during period could be this. I don't even know how to respond.
Then there is the whole don't lift weights in the airport. Let A do it. Because women's disks slip easier. God. Amma needs to stop watching the afternoon doctor show on those channels!

Although I am being patient on the phone with all this, in person I am most definitely less kind. And while I enjoy moments of periodic disease panic I hate it when someone else wants to be part of it!! Let me obsess alone!!

I am kind of, sadly, dreading the vacation.

Bake Away

I never attempt baking because well, the one time I tried, that too with a cake mix it was a disaster. But then now I understand that baking is simply a function of correct amounts and ounces and cups.

I have a love for banana bread without nuts and ever since Abigail gave me her wonderful recipe, I have been wanting to try it. Except I don't have a stand mixer. So I whisked with faith till my arm could drop and die and baked the hell out of it. A who arrived home in the evening opened the door and went--ahhahaha :) and then said some blasphemy: This is how a house should smell, not like fish fry!!!  But seeing my face, he proceeded to try and correct it!!

Anyway. Look.

Bad Bad T.V

You know, it's kind of become a 'thing' to say ' I don't own a t.v' with a smug face and nose up, up, way up in the air. All I want to say to these folks : there is so much intelligent television out there, you muck face. You know who does this? Shavi shubhs. This hateful mega bitch who I hope to someday slam face down into mud and cow dung.

Anyway not that I watch only intelligent tv, which is another matter. But I love t.v and I am happy to say it. Most of these folks who btw diss television are my fellow writing buddies. The really snobby kind, the ones I respect, they all watch well written shows. For e.g. Mad Men. Hello, anyone?
For e.g, Breaking Bad--I haven't seen more than a few but even still. Good Wife is drama but they have scripted it really well. Homeland, is fabulously addictive.
For when you want some laughs: Modern Family? Downton Abbey is yes slightly so apish, but even so. Not apish, SOAP ish.

But today is my bad bad t.v premieres! Grey's Anatomy, and Scandal!! I don't care, I am super happy. And then there will be my zombie apocalypse return with The Walking Dead-- you know, this is actually a really good show, I don't know, seriously. You feel kind of invested in them. Not the Zombies, i.e.

Then there is the wednesday nights with Food Network and Robert Irvine thrashing up restaurants and rebuilding them! Chopped for when streaming all this takes time!  Which reminds me that I should watch Newsroom sometime. And also start catching up with some historical works. The Tudors looks like something I would enjoy. Its about the reign of Henry the 8th and Katherine of Aragon. I also think I should check out some Game of Thrones, but I just can't bring myself to. I have put it in the Harry Potter category and can't bear to even try but everyone is a ravin.

Oh before I forget and before A jumps on it. Please watch The Wire because its god's own very brilliant gift to humanity. No, he swears by it and I keep meaning to see but there is only so much I can do!!

By the way the one show I managed to see and hated and everyone else loved is: Girls. I don't get the hype. I tried to see the 'artistry' in it but all I see is a worser version of Sex and the City and a lot of ugh dialogues.  I miss a really good science fiction series!

I am sure I am missing something here. 

Malayalam

movie binge. I just felt like I needed a good dose of nammade swantham malayalam. Mainly because I never get names for characters right and somehow watching 90's and late 80's helps! Not always but it's a joy always to create mini Kerala in my house, eat a good helping of rice and kootan and fish and watch movies.

Kariyila Kaatu Pole - Padmarajan
Amrutham Gamaya- M.T Vasudevan Nair
Paavakoothu- So unbearably terrible.

Diamond Necklace: * Q: What was this? Ans: When instead of trying to say a good story, the director and writer wanted to moralize, and ended up with a half hearted tale that did no justice to its characters and ended with a feeble warning of sorts. Insulting to any moderately intelligent viewer.

Passenger: **** Absolutely wonderful. I don't know how I missed this one. The true value of this movie is in its sensibility, the places and moments where instead of opting for a grand gesture it steps back and becomes almost a quiet observer. And in this shyness of both plot, moments and the main character's attitudes, it establishes very well what it wanted to to do : Show a good film, tightly wound, and suspense well built and ultimately a good message conveyed eloquently.

Woot, Wut?

I ran one mile that's what!

and survived.

I am a one mile running survivor. How obnoxious.

!!

Here is a thought

I had.

When I see in movies or T.V shows some kind of teenage issue that the teenager managed to hide from everybody, or mainly parents and siblings, I am extremely surprised. Maybe because I had an over interested and intuitive mother but I would always go: How can that be that NO ONE noticed? Impossible.
In my head I am a perfect mother. I notice, but I don't pry. I discuss but I don't judge. I am involved but not zealous.

I said in my head, didn't I? I am mostly aware how impossible this is. But anyway that's not the point.

So today I was thinking for some reason about this and I realized what a terrible sister I am. Ever since I hooked on to whatsapp, I have been avoiding calls like a demented loon. and my sister's phone is constantly either off or not working. She is also the saddest little kitten ever. She has made friends who doesn't get along well with, she hasn't met anyone interesting and she feels like the place is making her "kanji" in her words. All things that are perfectly understandable. I don't think I had the same problems because despite the horribleness college was in one way, I also made my only close friends there.

I should also admit now that with my sister, it's kind of impossible to get through, and if I were to be honest, I would have to say I got a little tired. And so I thought hai, whatsapp is there. What is the big deal if I don't call.

And then today while talking to Amma, she says, it's been more than two months since you called her. She is very busy but even then.
and I am like of course, it's not two months. But even as I say, I know it is two and more. And my sister  probably gave up on me.

And then Amma says, listen when you talk to her, talk in English. She is scared she is losing language skills.
This led to the usual maddening fight with Amma who wanted my sister to be a fuckin doctor. and now look what she has made.

Anyway the point is my unreasonable, unfounded fears are alienating people from me. And I definitely need to end this.

As a starting point, I called someone day before. My friend from Symbi was getting married and he had called me thrice and I didn't pick up. And when I finally did, I was in the car with other people and I told him I would call him back which I didn't because I am a terrible sort of human. No, no jokes to make anything light!

But day before was his wedding previous night function and I called. And I said hello twice and he wouldn't believe for a second it was me. We had the nicest chat afterward. and I hung up thinking: oh my god, why didn't I call him in forever!

I don't need to be scared. People like hearing from me. People like me. At least the ones I need to call, they do. I am sure there might be moments in between when it gets quiet and no one has anything to say, but something will come up. I am sure, sure, sure.
Once it becomes a habit, everything will be ok.

I am also noticing this strange thing happening. More and more people are saying, " Oh, I just hate ph conversations." or "Oh my god, please leave me alone already. No humans." While I am sure, most of the exaggerated introvertism is some kind of new 'trend' ugh-hate this word, it is especially so more common in my writing group. Everyone is like anti people and constantly posting about how they holed in their room when their room mate had visitors or had to forego dinner because parents/bf/ friend/room mate had people over and they couldn't bring themselves to go to the kitchen.

I understand these sentiments because I have myself holed in my room for hours as my room mate had people over for dinner and even though she kindly asked me, I even more so kindly refused. One day she insisted that I come. By which I mean she fooled me.

She said, "Oh S, I am having blah blah over. They are wonderful people. Would you....?" She didn't even complete the sentence because I think I had on my horrified look and so she said, "Okay, I know your issues but these are such great people. Great great great!"

And looking at her face it was hard to say no BUT I DID. Later since they were supposed to come at seven, I sneaked up to get some chips and lemonade to take to my hiding hole but one dinner guest was already in the kitchen. And my room mate introduced us and said, "So you will join us won't you?"

See what she did? ;/ I had a good time!! And later while washing up she says, " See? You were wonderful and you had a nice time too!"
Well yea, but you fooled me! I didn't say it to her though.

So while I understand this people issue, I also think too many people are adopting it without exactly feeling it.  Everyone or who is interested / understands this needs to watch this series on youtube called The Awkward Black Girl

Ok going to try this today. Going to call someone!

About body image, binge eating and lack of control

All said and done, I don't think I am fat. And I don't think I have any right to claim that title. Earlier I never used to think twice about saying," Oh, man, I am so fat!" and so on. Most of the times I said it, it was out of guilt. Because either I would have had something really fattening: a big burger, fries and shake or a ton of rice and curry or something. But then I know a few people now who are definitely fat and leaning toward obesity and when I hear about their daily struggles: the sniggers they get and the looks on buses, trains, and the way people around them assume that they are naturally dumb because fat  is equated to laziness and being a couch bum.

Next to that, I am definitely not fat.

This is not to say that whatever feeling from moment to moment is inconsequential. Just that reality is always relative. My issues are when I don't fit into size M, I do fit just not well. And I hate feeling like my back is bulging so I always get size L which is a source of momentary sadness.

Now that I have started going to the gym again, its like: good lord, I can feel my arms and legs. or rather the terrible pain from the weights. The main problem and basically only problem is a thorough lack of control with food. By the time I get back from the gym my head is spinning and I crave sugar. So yesterday I made myself sit quietly for a few minutes and then ate cabbage soup. But then it also makes me so sad. It seems silly, I am sure. But to not eat what I want is like ten on ten torture.

Like I wish I had the kind of metabolism that allows everything and yet stays thin. I don't even want thin, I just want health. And right now, I am not healthy. No, sir.  I can't run for more than half a mile. I pant if I climb four flights of stairs. When I do run I can feel my 'jowls' move. Not even face or skin but jowls is the only thing it can be called.

With age it seems more and more difficult to shed weight faster. For e.g once I used to put on fat only on my stomach but now it's definitely moving on to arms and face. and those are so difficult to let go. I have no particular image issues. I look fine, maybe on a good day, pretty. But I have extreme fears of diseases and I definitely sense that if I don't put in some rules and regulations now, I am going to suffer soon.

But for now: I HAVE ARMS THAT I CAN FEEL.

Do we need to go looking for inspiration? or can we be inspired simply

This question is one to which  there won't be a definite answer. But instead let me try to write what inspiration means to me. Inspiration is the joy in knowing that someone is making something out of his life, it is what gives me hope. And hope for me means survival. For now I am fine. I have only losses that I can handle on my own with no extra help except of a friend and a husband. But some day if there are bigger losses, of scales that I can't control myself, then I know is when art of the inspired will come handy. It will help in remembering and understanding that life is always bigger than what it dishes out. That most things can be solved with time.

Did that make much sense? Probably not.

One of the joys of living together is that we get to attend things together and then discuss it afterward. Ours are mostly pleasant discussions on how something made us feel, moved us and so on. It never scales the tops of extremely intellectual peaks.

On Tuesday I tried to get in for the Patten Lecture Series held at IU at which Werner Herzog was scheduled to speak. The first in a series of three, it was entitled The Search for the Ecstatic Truth--a phrase coined by Herzog. I couldn't because the crowd was longer than at a temple!!

My introduction to him happened about a year ago when M in my class--a literally Herzog groupie ( exaggeration alert) kept ranting about him. We, a group of five and our Prof. had gone for a beer but as always Madame M monopolizes the talk. Her story had been just ripped apart and given a new assehole ( I am still mad about how the Prof. never got to say anything cos this idiot kept interrupting and I really wanted to get to know her better!!) Anyhow. M says, now you know Herzog would be one to understand THIS story of mine taking it to a whole new level of narcissism.

Herzog's works as I eventually discovered are in fact works of extreme beauty and like the man himself very self aware. The ideas that he goes looking for are unique in not just their existence but also in the way he explores them. Obviously this is how I feel about it but I really need to watch more before writing more. I have seen just three of his works and all documentaries. I do want to see the fictional works next and especially Heart of Glass and Lessons in Darkness.

Grizzly Man is perhaps what he is most famous for in a commercial sense. What I am going to say is probably not what people agree with, but for me Treadwell was a man who decided to pursue a passion that resulted in his end. People termed this passion as mental illness but who are we to decide what sounds right and wrong for another? Treadwell died protecting the bears he thought were being poached. There was no poaching. But he thought, he felt, he decided. I doubt he was unaware of the risks. If one is willing to die, then what else remains?

Herzog himself seems to have a slightly altered view of Treadwell which bothered me. Because one thing I value in a documentary is the  non polemicity ( is that a word? probably not) that the maker needs to first adorn.

But here Herzog seems to think of Treadwell as crazy loon, fiercely opposing nature with some kind of fairy tale view of it in his head. Perhaps it is justified but, but, Herzog himself is a man of passion and vision and constantly looking for inspiration. While he says that Treadwell's vision resulted in death of his gf and the bears; a casualty that could have been avoided he seems to fail to look at his own actions at the shooting of his film where a plane crash occurred in the Amazon jungles and people died.

Herzog said, "If I abandon this project I would be a man without dreams
and I don't want to live like that. I live my life or I end my life with this project.

Who else could have understood Treadwell better than Herzog?


Here is the last clip of Grizzly Man
Coyotes by Don Edwards


In Cave of Forgotten Dreams it was more of an ethereal feeling. The quest for understanding our past has always been a story that never results in concrete answers but here were cave drawings from supposedly 30,000 years ago. The imprint of a small hand with a twisted pinky against a wall. Pictures of what could have been mammoths. Of horses, of hunting. Chauvet Caves was perhaps one of Herzog's works that dealt with understanding of " What constitutes humanness?"
This is kind of interesting for me because lately I have started reading about when we became human and the Out of Africa theory and our origins. Here is a book that I am going to start reading next week.

Lone Survivors

Also here is an interview clip from The Colbert Report :) Thanks to A.
Interview with Herzog

Into the Abyss, the documentary on death row is a bit more complex because it incites feelings of opposing nature. It brings to light quickly and without judgement ( in my opinion) about the waste that lives can be. The final scene in this is so magnificent, the kind of a breath caught in throat feeling.


In the lecture yesterday, which was on the Transformative Role of Music in Films he showed a variety of clips ranging from Taviani Brothers, to the chicken dance, to a clip so fantastic from his movie Lessons of Darkness.
Here it is:
Wagner


From it's Youtube description: The Final (and the most bizarre) sequence from Werner Herzog's classic film 'Stroszek' (1977). The location for the closing sequence is in a strange fun-house where chickens dance, play the piano, a duck plays the drums and a rabbit is blowing the horn on a fire-engine!!!

Chicken Dance

The other clip that he got a lot of flak for was this one here: The Woodabe Men
And this very powerful clip from a movie Padre Padrone by Taviani Brothers where toward the end you  feel like grief becomes part of something larger than just humans, of mountains and mere rocks joining in.
Padre Padrone

Yesterday he spoke of the time he was at a film festival and when this clip was shown there was an indignant silence. And then a lady film maker next to him said, " We, as film makers, should be like flies on the wall," to which he said, " No, we should be like the hornet that stings it subject."
and then he stood up and said, "Happy New Year losers." and left.

As much as I endorse his endeavors and enjoy them this seeming inability to understand  or even pretend to understand different approaches and almost instantaneous dismissal of other schools of thought seems to be his blind spot or maybe in fact his genius.

Uncertainty

Usually when someone says these wise words, "Everything happens for a reason", this trite saying makes me bristle but I sit in mute anger anyhow because despite the displeasure it induces in me, I assume people who say it have some kind of reasoning, some incident that made them a believer in it. I, on the other hand couldn't believe more in the infinite randomness of the universe and how everything happens just--because.

BUT. I am not changing this standpoint and maybe I am joining the gangs of those who wanting to believe in a power out there joining the dots of our fate make themselves see anything as a sign. This happened because only then can T.H.I.S happen and so on. But although I haven't changed my stance I do feel like I am coming across the right books to read. Some kind of chance happening. I am never able to explain exactly what I want to do with the novel except loose incidents that must all come together somehow. But I have all these ideas swirling around. But when I try to put them together I end up feeling like I am doing some kind of diatribe, or tirade and that isn't appealing. One thing I dislike in any novelist is attempting to solve problems. That's not my job. I only want to say a story and say it well. I only want to understand this woman, her husband,  her parents, the parenting, the voids and things she lacked, the place she grew up, the people she met, the wounds that happened, the memories, the sadness, the brightness, the attachments, the betrayals and the resolutions. I don't want it to be sentimental at all, I want a little nostalgia but not on levels that will engulf and wreck everything else.

And somehow with every book I am reading my ideas somehow become clearer.

For e.g Museum of Innocence showed me how to be an ethnographer although of course, there is no way in hell I can match up to what Pamuk did. But that not withstanding. Then now I am reading Atlas Of Unknowns which is giving me a better idea about structure and use of our language. How to use certain words to convey what language they are speaking.

The other books that will help are as follows:

A House for Mr. Biswas: Naipaul is the best example to have a large cast and yet maintain individuality for each character.

Portraits of a Marriage: Sandor Marai

All Rohinton Mistry but especially Family Matters to understand vision and depth of a novelist. To understand ties that bind families together.

Couples: Updike ( Not yet read)
Women in Love: Lawrence ( Read long ago, understood pretty much nothing back then)
The Newlyweds: Nell Freudenberger
Brick Lane: Monica Ali


I want something that is a little lyrical to grasp language better. Not Toni Morrison levels. Maybe Kiran Desai, Anita Desai and Arundhati Roy.

I am mostly focusing on our ethnic writing just to get foundation right. But Cannary Row I am reading on the side is also brilliant to understand character descriptions better.

All right, more later.
If anyone has any suggestions along these lines, please drop em off!

September Books & Movies

I am reading gazillion short stories just to get this one story of mine right . So here goes.

A&P- Updike **
Pilgrims- Julie Orringer ****
Reunion-Cheever ***

The Point- Charles D' Ambrosio
River of Names: Dorothy Allison ***
An Abduction- Tessa Hadley ****

The Stain- Tessa H ****
The Cheater's Guide to Love: Junot Diaz ****
Permission to Enter: Zadie Smith **

The Surrogate: Tessa H ***
How Was It To Be Dead?- Richard Ford ***
Araby: James Joyce
The Balloon: Donald Barthelme
School: Donald B
The Yellow Wallpaper: Gilman


The Atlas of Unknowns- Tania James ***
Brick Lane-Monica Ali **
Drown- Junot Diaz
Portraits of a Marriage- Sandor Marai



Movies:

Hope Springs :/ **
Ek Tha Tiger :/ :/ * ( I don't know why I saw it!! Happened)
Life before her eyes * (Uma Thurman)
Ai Wei Wei ****
Where do we go now? ****-Nadine Labaki
Cocktail (Hindi)  *
Heart of Glass ***-Herzog

Margaritas, Onam, Words, Life

These days my body and alcohol aren't exactly compatible. I get drunk easily and then I feel light for a bit and want to immediately go to bed. Which is where I am right now. I just typed write for right.

I forgot it's Onam till Achan called and wished. That is a first. Onam is so important. How did I forget? I am not doing anything. We will be at our aunt's and she sounds down herself. Erryone got issues.

I realized something. Nothing big, but something. I like doing little things for people and while it gives them joy, it makes me happier and maybe why I do it in the first place. But I don't do any of it with the expectation that I should receive anything in return. If I do that's wonderful, but mostly it's the best feeling to surprise someone or to remember someone's something be it anniversary, birthday or whatever.

Words. Words are crazy. I got no words right now. Kind of ironic, but if there is one lesson I know it is that words flung can't be taken back. The saddest, the most utterly disheartening thing as it seems right now is when someone you trust breaks your heart and it doesn't stop there, it goes on to tinge every thing in your life and soon you are questioning everything done and said. Recently I read a story where a girl discovers that her mother meant to leave her father earlier than when the mother actually left which in turn made the girl question all events, all words, all the moments between that moment of consideration and moment of action. Because suddenly then it occurred to the girl all the falsity in those years. Because everything mother did suddenly shows itself in another light.

This guy who hits on me is getting divorced. People about to get divorced make me nervous. They say and do strange things like this guy for example. He not only hits on me, he does it very half heartedly. It is kind of a fuck-I-am-getting-divorced, I need something to do. It's truly sad and I have no response to it except kind words which I see clearly not helping.
To be divorced when there is a kid to consider seems the hardest thing to do. To share and split and argue about something that was once most important for two people..

I leave you with a few beautiful lines from my friend Ruth's poem.

"We leave each other from the minute we meet,
don't we, and isn't it so strange
how we can touch other &
stay cold? How I forget to pray for you."

Bye Bye

Bye Boston. I feel so guilty that I didn't make use of everything that I could have possibly done, things that this city had to offer. I had the monies but I worry so much about spending it unless for books and food and good movies that I missed so many readings, theatre and events. I guess it's all right. Maybe I will be back.

Some dreamily..

Some dreamily smoke cigarettes, some track

BY MARIANNE BORUCH

Some dreamily smoke cigarettes, some track

toddlers who walk like drunks. Buzzy,

the picnic grounds, noisy, sun-crazed, how

forks and spoons don’t exactly lie flat.

A mountain’s here, a famous overlook

from which you’d see none of this. Like that

first daguerreotype, its moving carriages

and those who strolled never picked up

in the long exposure, a Paris street emptied

by the camera, only houses and lamp posts

gone eternal. Or the one who stopped

for a shoe shine, the one who knelt to the task.

At the picnic—a commotion. A large man

to a younger man. I don’t know you! he’s hugging

and laughing. I don’t know who you are,

he shouts over and over a stillness so immense.

Cloud of Unknowing

Can the end of a year which was exceptionally momentous be called the end of an era? I am calling it anyway.

There are  many next steps that don't make much sense but they are there anyway and even as it's exciting, to pick one would mean to stick with it because you know, you don't want to be thirty and thinking ok now what. Sure, you can change directions whenever, people in my class, almost five of them are doing it but I don't want to.

In a group of eight, I have three friends. That's not bad at all.

Hjin has been telling others how my novel has improved by 'leaps and bounds'. I can sleep on this little information and dream a few dreams for a while. Even as it means absolutely nothing. Just a little boost of a sad ego.

It's one of those times when I have learnt a really good lesson which I absolutely didn't see coming but it's all good. We can't always learn everything from others mistakes, even the most obvious ones.

To live with A again is both looked forward to and shied away from. The latter less.

There will be trips and sights and stories to write. At least till January.

There will be a baby. Wont there be a baby? I think so.


There will always be books so nothing can ever go that bad.

The Good Wife

So I am watching obsessively this show called The Good Wife. It's got all your run of the mill public sex scandal, politician-wife, wife stays with husband despite everything except in this case Juliana Margulies plays the most enchanting, mysterious woman ever! I am so floored by her character and her poker face and mannerisms and it's absolutely interesting how you never get a peek into her thoughts or head but it's only maddening not annoying. I can't bear to watch Chris Noth the philandering husband not so much because of the sex, but the behavior afterward, this thoroughly entitled asseholic behavior, completely sure ( at least at first) that his wife WILL stay on with him.

Anyway, so toward the end of season one, lady in question and her boss at the law firm ( ex boyfriend from college, and rather adorable man) have kissed and are now all confused. :/ And the finale concludes with the ex boyfriend man calling her up and she is at her husband's campaign and ex boyfriend is all waxing romantic lines and she says, " look, I get the romance bit, but all I need is a plan." and he says, "Things can't be planned like this" and she says, " Well, poetry is easy but I have kids, a husband and a job, so I need a plan." and the ex boyfriend man has the most amazingly confuzzled expression on his face. I don't know why I liked this so much. Maybe because of the way it built up with the ex boyfriend drinking a glass of wine and buttoning up his suit and dialing all purposeful like and then pooh, shoooooo! Ha. Yeah anyhow.

I really should finish my book and not watch a whole season in two days, but that's just me acknowledging that I should. We all know I will watch all three seasons.

August: Books and Movies

Books:

The Changeling
Tis Pity she is a Whore
Persuasion
Museum of Innocence


Movies:

Medea
Chinatown
To Rome With Love
Beasts of the Southern Wild
Une Femme est unne femme
Tokyo Story

Species

There are these terrible people in my class who are my friends. They aren't always so bad except they are.
Okay, so you see, there are these two women in their mid forties. Let's call them SY and MM
SY is mostly all right, has strange tendencies to sort of order you around and if you are like me; who can't exactly stand up and make a point then well you will be reduced to silent mumbles and teeth gnashing. The thing is SY means well mostly, so you got to give credit with that. Except she thinks she has lived THE LIFE and so now all the wisdom she has acquired must be put to good use. So hereby you too should live by the rules she has learned.

MM on the other hand is truly terrible. Like a classic study of self-involvement to the extremes and extremely vociferous if criticized and completely shut out from the world of awareness. I am yet to meet someone worse than her in the awareness department. The undergrad kids in my summer classes pass notes about her literally under her nose and snigger and laugh --they are undergrads!!--- and she won't see it. She can just not shut up! In the class if the Prof. asks a question her hand just bounces and bounces and her voice has this drawl? OHMYFUCKINGOD. Make your god damn point and shut the fuck up. Then she does this thing where instead of sitting in the circle she sits next to the Prof. and pretty much behaves like she is running the class. The Prof. : a wonderful human being bears it in good humor.
Once we were to go to a reading given by one of our writing profs. and I said: Hey you want to go? and she said: No, why should I? He didn't come to mine.

:/ ://

Anyhow.

There is a slightly overweight girl in the class who likes wearing low cut tops and short shorts and a lot of fat kind of bulges over and while I think she has a pretty face, it's hard not to look when her boobs are spilling out and I am very interested in her purple sequined bra!!

So it was with much surprise that I ran into MM and SY bitchin like a pair of old crones during break. I couldn't believe that at their age they were actually being all high schooly over THIS. And then all the terrible fat girl in revealing clothes criticism was rounded off by SY with: Oh god, I am such a prude, I am OLD.
This was clearly said in: Hey, S, tell me I am not an old prude, tone. But I couldn't bring myself to disagree. LIKE HELL YOU ARE NOT. So I just smiled and left and hated myself for not speaking up.

I dont understand this kind of censorship. Isn't it enough that society and able bodied males are telling us what to wear without women adding to it?

I was also quite horrified at this discussion of  being fat. Now it's really not like this girl is obese, she is maybe about 180-190 pounds which is definitely heavy. and I will admit sometimes I do find myself looking away in a bus or train when a morbidly obese person has to be wheeled in or out or something. Or like on my regular bus, I have a regular seat :/ because OCD, and so this guy gets in at a stop before and sometimes he takes my seat and I get upset at how he took my seat because it's the first seat and its easier for him, but then I try to catch myself before I think this!

 Because one) ITS NOT MY BUSINESS and 2) it must be so hard being him. or any one who is fat and has to face the world every day and be the target of looks and look aways and comments and all this equating of being fat to being lazy or dumb which btw a lot of people do here.

Anyway. I sometimes hate these two. I can't believe you want to be a writer and lack such obvious empathy for someone.

So I thought maybe younger people might think differently but no. Here is ED who is younger than me. Her bf has a kid from his marriage and the child has been diagnosed with some kind of special need and is in a private school where they use a lot of creative means to teach and ED tells me: you know, I think she should just go to a public school and just be like forced to learn. What is all this drawing flowers and singing songs bullshit. I went to a public school and I turned out fine.

Clealry, ED, clearly you did.

I don't even---
Anyway. These are the people who are learning to be writers with me. Isn't this amazing?Dont you just want to read the books these folks will write?

Treats and Fears

I just submitted the thesis today to L and HJin. I left early in the morning to print and format and bullshit and by afternoon dropped it off at his house and now I just need to spend three paranoid days wondering if he might say: REVISE. This won't sit well with me because I have an India trip coming up and a visa renewal. I won't even, I don't even have a contingency plan except begging to him. I don't know why he should say no, except why shouldn't he? I don't know.

Even so, I was pretty thrilled at submitting. It looked and felt like a real book. Like if I published a 90 page book, it would feel like this. So I stared at it for a while and then went for a movie and had lunch at a Indian place which wasn't good, but today I didn't mind that so much.

I saw To Rome With Love, and initially for the first 20mins, I was a little bugged. I mean the quirky Woody Allen thing isn't something I really enjoy anymore. But it definitely got better and there were some, only some, great moments. It ended on a good note though.

A and I and P will be New Yorking it this month. I have all kinds of fun activities planned for us! :) other than the usual touristy stuff.
and then A and I will be hitting up India and a trip somewhere-- Sri Lanka? Andaman? Somewhere and then I will be off to Istanbul for a month and a week.

So many plans and exciting things so no need to MOURN MFA END. OKAY? ok.

P has landed and I am so happy that she is a call away.

I have to start packing this week. I came here with 80 books and I have 140 now. :/ I probably will have to sell some of the not good ones. That's going to be a little hard but I do have some crap lying around.

Later

Shakespeare

All the Shakespeare I read when I was young weren't verses. They were abridged copies, so now when I am reading again the real words with a vague whirl in my head of knowing the story but not entirely remembering it, it is the best feeling in the world!

So far I have done Hamlet and Tempest and I just saw the movie by Julie Taymour with the female Prospera played by a wonderful queenly Helen Mirren. I definitely loved it, although I am sure I like the version I had in my head better. I am not even trying to be snobbish here, but when it's a production so many things change like Caliban. I love the Caliban in the movie but not as much as the one in head. But definitely like the movie Ariel better.
It's always amazing to note how the ideas he played with are so eternal. Why does that always surprise me?

My father keeps telling me for almost five years now about the virtues of forgiveness and the joys in it. When I read the Tempest and watched the movie I am almost convinced, but not yet. Why can't I be old and forgiving as opposed to now? The only difference I can think of is --awareness. To be aware of  being able to maybe let go and forgive now but still choosing to wait it out is probably the mistake I am making as opposed to someone so miserable and in their misery, blind to the joy of forgiving.

And like Prospera ( I love the female better) says: This thing of darkness, I acknowledge mine.

And I am sure I can live with it.

On to Titus Andronicus which apparently no one seems to read and Othello--of course. I think my paper is going to be on Othello and I am sure the Prof. will say: Oh, I wasn't looking for that subtle a meaning :/ Yeah, I have a Prof. who does that!

I said: the only reason I am not entirely convinced that Prospero's forgiveness is based entirely upon their penitence is because no remorse has been shown by the culprits and that to me, it seems a sign of self delusion on his part and a need to believe in the most base quality of being a human.

and he said, long pause later: Oh, I am not looking for that much subtlety.

I don't know!!


I am sure I will remember this because I was pretty pissed.

About Being Married

Here is something that is beginning to bother me.

When I decided to get married to A, everyone I knew was either a) glad or b) relieved or c) mildly suspicious or D) This is a mistake you are making, AGAIN!!
 It was all: you barely know him! Yeah, you do? How long? How long do you know him? Who knows what he is even really like! ( my dad!) Some of these NRI boys probably have other girlfriends on the side and you know do online chatting also for time pass!

From THAT, we moved to: Oh A, isn't he just wonderful! Aren't you just so lucky! Oh so romantic. Nah, you can't possibly be bugged about that!! I mean look at him!
No, don't tell me anything, he is your husband and you should just be thankful that you found HIM after all the losers. What is the matter with you complaining about the silliest things?

And so on.

Now I have mostly no issues with A and we get along fabulously and although my mother seems to think that I should be 'grateful' :/ I am mostly just happy to have found him. Although I suppose I was a little grateful for which I am a little ashamed some days. It's now three years, and I am comfortable with who I am etc or almost comfortable. But before this if my mum said that I should be grateful because he is so wonderful and kind and that I almost didn't deserve this for myself. Why? Why is that. Well, let's not open that bag but she and my father kind of hints that I am this very difficult person to be married to and that they are always so surprised that no "adi pidi" has happened.
I am not sure where this idea occurred to them of me being difficult. I suppose I should quiz them a little but I know it will end with me in tears.
Once they literally were laughing at some story of ours and then my dad said, God, A, I don't know how you do it.
and although I smiled, it definitely stung.

So I thought a little about what could possibly be so wrong with me according to them.
It could be that I am lazy. I prefer to lay around somewhere and read a book. or I kind of don't like exercising ( :/) or that I seem to have no job ambitions. I can't think of anymore reasons.

Yesterday when I was talking to Amma, she says: So what are your plans now? and before I could say: finish my novel? she said: Do you want to just sit at home and waste your life being a housewife? How are you going to live on one income? For now, A and his mother won't say anything but soon they will also wonder what is the matter with you.

Obviously I didn't bring up novel. But this stings. Fucking painfully. Yes, I am probably stupid for doing this but I am only 26. Just give me one fucking year to do this. Okay one and a half. but no. I should have the baby and do the Phd and be a Prof. somehow all together. But most importantly I shouldn't be a burden.

Now normally I can handle these things but I had just had a fight with A on something similar about a story and yes, I was wrong to have asked him to read in between his coding or whatever and I am sorry but he responded curtly and I was already so jittery. I don't know.

There is no complaining about him to anyone. I admit most days/ almost all days it's great being married to him. There is no reason to whine. But he does screw up, you know. Yes, on a smaller scale but he does. But no one wants to hear it because overall he is so wonderful that these little ones should always be overlooked. There is no complaining even to my friends. The response is always: oh give him a break. Don't sit on his head. Don't boss him, it's no big deal!

I don't boss him. I don't do any of these things. I do fight with him sometimes and that might look silly to others and it might be: 'the things people expect in a committed relationship' but I would like to be able to tell someone, sometime about one fucking complaint that I have. Is that too much to ask?

Eventually I thought of how I do behave to him. I don't need to know what he is up to unless he wants to tell me, I don't mind him going out to movies with a girl or hanging out with women till anytime in the night, I don't need to talk everyday and so on.
but the it occurred to me that these traits are probably of value only if A on his part wants his space. What if he prefers to talk? what if he prefers to tell me the things he has been unto? The same things that I put in my pros column could be his cons for me.

Actually I realized this a while ago and so I said you know, just because I am not a phone person doesn't mean you can't call. Please do call whenever you wish and so he does now.

I don't know. Sometimes I just detest this equation where no one can possibly understand why the fuck I have to even complain.

Young Adult

You know what the best thing about being an adult is? That you can eat anytime, anything, anywhere and not be judged/ reprimanded/ judged..
My friend S messaged me that she is eating a lot of bad foods because of the stress: Popsicles, frozen yogurt, deep friend chicken from a chinese place, dumplings by the bag etc. Although I am completely all right with eating food at any time and any hour, I thought about it a bit and realized that I don't quite do it. I think I will since I am allowed to indulge me whenever I wish but never like my friend.
For e.g, today I had lunch at 12. :/ after breakfast at 11. Because I couldn't sleep last night, I drank some nyquil and in the morning woke up feeling like zombies had danced on my skull. So I had lots of chaya and water and still felt groggy. and then I see there is no food. There is but it needs cooking. I look for a while at take out menus but everything looks queasy. So I fried the swordfish and made rasam and drank a lot of lime juice. I am sure there is something wrong with my bladder, I peed like 8 times in 4 hours/ less. Anyway that should be an other indulgence post. So around 3 I begin to feel really hungry and I think why not eat all of my room mates cheese puff things. But I DONT. No matter how much I wanted to, I don't. Then I thought fondly of this terrible place next to my house called the xx Roast Beef place and their cheesecake. I have been known to arrive there at 10 in the night in my pajamas and order just three cheesecakes, please. But I don't.

My friend was also telling me how despite it being so hot and having no ac she refuses to buy a fan. She takes a shower every few hours and sleeps fitfully. I was incredulous! Trust me its sick hot and kind of humid. She keeps saying she is going to leave soon and there is no point. I didn't exactly understand but today when I kept looking at food pictures and resisting, I kind of felt like I got her point.

When I was young--I feel very old and cranky these days-- and we went to my lovely lovely grand mothers for the summer there was a store muri where she would keep all the chakka, manga, thenga, pazham for it to ripen in a sack. Around afternoon everyone would take a nap. Me, settled comfortable against her warm belly and then we would wake up around four and she would go to clean the lamps for the evening and I would make a visit to the store room and happily eat five-seven pazhams and a mango and then eat some fish pieces with it. One day they caught me! They were amused, I can see that NOW, but I was so embarrassed. I didn't do it for a really long time. They kept telling the story to everyone saying how we have this poocha in our house that comes in the afternoons when everyone is asleep!

I miss her so much. Every time I get sad over something else, I end up coming here. By here I mean memories of the summers with her. She was the most kind hearted generous woman for whom I could nothing. It is on her behalf that I let go and forget so many of my Amma's crankiness. Because not only is she my mother but the daughter of the most benevolent woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.


So anyway I starved till now, which is 8 o clock and now I am going to fry a batch of papadams and eat it with homemade salsa!

PS: I decided to change the background to white. I think it agrees better with my aged eyes! :D

Working Alone

Now that all that workshop craziness is over, I AM ALL ON MY OWN. It's almost like a withdrawal symptom, although I don't know what that would be like, but let me just make the analogy. So now after finishing a chapter, all I can think is: Who must I somehow coax into reading this. It's so strange this dependence and I try telling myself- look at all the people who DID finish their novels before MFA programs were invented. It isn't enough to tell this once, but I have to repeatedly force myself into thinking this.

So I make A and P read. The only problem with this is, while I am indifferent/ open to criticism from classmates and the likes, anytime these two say anything less than--That's good-- I get all worked up. :/ Obviously I shouldn't, BUT I DO.

Also everyone I know is writing a novel. Why wouldn't they? I recently read this article--http://www.thenervousbreakdown.com/amims/2012/07/et-tu-nemesis/
I forgot how to make the link a single word magic thing. So anyway I have a lot of feelings about this both pro and cons but am I glad that I never got this far. As in any problem I have is all within me and about me, and never projected on any person or outward issues.

Anyway as of now I have 50 pages! And I just keep editing these 50, refusing to move forward. because most times I am like --What the hell is wrong with these characters.

Okay then.

MONEY

Which I really don't have at this point was spent on fish. Like 25$ on Mackarel- which better turn out great or I am going to throw a fit and clams--which better be kakka erachi. I hate experimenting!! No, that's not true. I hate experimenting when I am broke.

I am losing sleep over the smallest things. Yesterday night I spent three hours reading about IVF treatments for no reason at all and then I had horrid neck cramps and my ear was red because I had somehow twisted it while sleeping. This is all because my cousin had a baby. Even through my unreasonable jealous I managed to make the expected call and her mum said: oh he is so beautiful, a little man with lots of hair! Which then made me cry both happy and sadly?

I am in this Facebook group full of writers so neurosis isn't new or anything unexpected and every time someone posts some kind of rant about their issues and jealousies, and then will round it off with : I am a horrible person, am I not? And ten thousand people will chime back: NO! You are a beautiful human being with flaws. And this makes me smirk but tbh I was a little consoled knowing I could post stupidity and be told I am wonderful and then I tried it on Parus and I said blah blah blah, I am a terrible human being, am I not? And she said: Yes. You are. And I thought phew that was good. I needed that.

July Movies and Books

Movies:

Indecent proposal **
The Elephant in the Living Room ****
Food Inc-****
Planet of the Apes **
Carnage:**
In the Mood for Love:***
The Return:****

Fahrenheit 451 ****
Into the Abyss ***



Books:

Tamburlaine The Great
Dr. Faustus
The Spanish Tragedy
Hamlet
Pride and Prejudice
Mansfield Park
Volpone
Emma
Tempest

Lonesome Suzie

The title is from a Blood Sweat and Tears album, circa 1987, when I was one year old! Anyway. I am sad and I 'almost' smoked a cigarette but I stubbed it out after two hits. Instead I watched a baby video--the Charlie bit me one! Because in my head babies and smoking are related. I am really sad, annoyed, bugged, tired. I tried doing well in the Lit classes but I am so new to academic writing that I got only a B+. Yeah, okay, that isn't bad, but I really needed to do better and then I question if I worked hard enough and a tiny wiggling spot of doubt says-  Nope. Every day after the morning class, I would come home and then later after lunch and some reading go for the six o clock one. My friend who got an A stayed in the library all day. She stayed in campus ALL DAY. I get so sweaty and cranky if I do that, that I end up not listening well by the time the evening class rolls to nine o'clock but really, I should have stayed on campus.

I am kind of little worried about the thesis. Of 90 pages, I have exactly 19 pages edited and needing to be still reviewed. I really can't afford another semester which would mean out of my pocket and my pocket isn't really a pocket. It's got a hole through which all my money has magically disappeared. The lease runs out August end and already a new girl has agreed to take the place. She will also buy all my furniture, which is good except I can't believe she will literally substitute my material life. She is in the incoming MFA Fiction class, 2013. She will buy the bed, the chair, the desk, the little lamp and then she will write fiction in my large lovely room. Fucking bitch. Okay, not really.

People are asking about babies. I mean yes, I did think about it and still thinking and I do have the crazy baby obsession but what if after months of real baby making trying, I end up not making one? I can't imagine doing all the treatments. I probably would, but the hormones and worrying about it and the hypochondria would probably send me over the fucking hills. And I can imagine people going nuts if I say, umm, maybe not? Maybe I don't want the treatments. People are going to be so upset that I AM NOT WILLING TO TRY. I think I am going to be upset at me too. Plus I am turning a number --that sounds terrible-- next March and terribler with no baby!! The only consolation I have is my own mum seems all right. She has got this-- it will happen whenever it does, which kind of upsets me and is yet a relief.

I am sad about leaving Boston. I am so happy here. I wasn't lonesome S. But soon I will be. I have also-- to use a trite expression--got used to having my cake and eating it too! I love alone time so much.

I love being a sloth, a slob and naked and examining fat in the mirror, analyzing triple chins, eating in bed and leaving crumbs and if no hanky--wiping my face in my pillow case and eating two eggs in a single day without feeling guilty and coming home and not washing my hands and feet and plopping on the bed and hogging the blanket and sleeping with a pillow on each side and waking up and dig my nose patiently or fervently--depends-- and not sharing a bathroom!! I am not saying the better half frowns on all this, he is almost an equal slob, and so saying all this makes me feel terrible and then superstitious issues come up.
Because  somehow I am so wired to believing in terrible act cum thought leads to terrible consequence/ punishment that I can't help think whoever is doling out punishments will make me actually alone! You know what I am saying?

I am crazy! I am crazy for thinking all this. Well, most of it. I also have such a long way to go before applying for a Phd, and that is depressing because even though I know how to get there, I am sad it's going to take so fucking long. Meanwhile all fellow MFA'ers are fervidly working on their novel. They are all so optimistic! I need some of that. Somedays, I am willing to believe there is a point in writing this book and ignoring the fact that almost half the population is writing a novel.

You know what's funny? The number of people in the past years who have said to me : You should write about my life! I have fucking lived THE LIFE. Isn't it crazy how deluded we are? Like Anne Lamott said, The biggest mistake we make is in thinking that everything that happened to us is interesting.

Really, it's not. Everyone has had a heart broken, almost everyone has lied, many have cheated. Many have been submitted to crazy parenting, so many are depressed, and so many will continue to lie, cheat and live. What's the point. Stripped down we are all the same. Almost ie.

Land of cynicism.

Atleast I am talking to my father again after two and half months. I had to make the first move. It's silly I thought, and you know what made me? You want to know how I made myself make the 'move'? I figured in all likelihood he would die first. I am selfish, the first thought that comes to mind when I think of his death is me. My selfish thought as a child, what will happen to me? And then two of my friend's fathers passed away, suddenly, just like that and that send me into a panic mode. None of us were talking to him. Not my mum or my sister. The only person who was calling him was my husband and I am grateful for that. The thought that my father might die all alone,with no one to talk to was unbearable.
And so I said, Hi, I miss you and then he said: How can you miss me, when you are in my heart all the time.

My father, he has the words, the moves.
I am glad I let that one go.