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.