Statutory Warning: Drama Ahead - Please do NOT read if you are a practical, prosaic person (unless you want to know how others live).

Today, after years I felt the urge to cut myself. For those hearing about this for the first time - please don't panic. I am not suicidal, neither am I intent on harming myself - I just hate the fact that I have no self control at times. For me, a little cut on my pinky finger used to be a great way of putting any "emotional" pain I was feeling into context.

Like I said, it's been years - so what made me slip today?

-Lack of self control
-Getting too caught up in my dreams (the real deal - not day dreams)
-The inability to believe the evidence of my fucking senses. I believed that I was practical enough and tough enough to have learned that there's no use banging my head against the wall. Much better to climb over it or find another route.

And yet today, like a sap, I gave in to this child inside me. The softie that is a sucker for a beating. The imbecile who makes the same mistake again and again. The absolute dolt...that just does not learn.

But... if for no other reason than to not let scorpions across the world down I will dig deep. I will find the anger and the wrath that can get me out of this soup, and I WILL NOT BANG MY HEAD AGAINST THIS FUCKING WALL AGAIN.

AND I WILL DO IT WITHOUT CUTTING MYSELF!

Miss Margaret

When I was 10 I changed schools, moving from a coed school to an all girls school run by nuns. My life changed completely in many ways - someday I'll write more about that - but today I want to memorialize "Miss Margaret".

In my old school every teacher was called just that - "teacher". I still remember the long drawn out "Good Morning Teacher" we used to chorus every morning. In my new school I was perplexed to find that every teacher was to be addressed as "Miss ___". For someone for whom "Miss" was the title of an unmarried lady, it was difficult to adjust to called married women in their 40s and 50s "Miss". But I learned. (I never did adjust to calling strange girls "girly" - but more about that some other time)

Anyway, the English teacher in the 6th and 7th standards was "Miss Margaret". Those of you who like what I write can thank her, those who don't, can blame her, for she was the first person who made me think I could write what others would enjoy reading. She was the first person who gave me that thrill that runs through you when you create something and someone appreciates it. I liken it to what a mother must feel when someone appreciates her new born baby. [Mothers everywhere must be up in arms at my daring to compare the creation of a baby to the creation of a story... but though I've not had a child I think any one who has created something - whether a story, a painting or a song - must feel something of the same.]

Anyway, getting back on track once more, thank you Miss Margaret for opening my eyes to one of my greatest loves. I may have found my way without you - but I'm glad I didn't have to risk it!

My new year was even worse than I expected.

The run up wasn't so bad...I decided to have some games for people in office on the 30th. Spent the money I'd been saving to party on prizes for the winners. I had fun but had an unexpected client call that evening and ended up stuck in office till almost 9. Went home, and around 11 after dinner, decided I was too tired to study. That's when things started to go south.

I planned to wake up at 5 am and study for 4 hours, take 30 minutes to get ready and an hour to actually get there in time for the 10:30 paper. After all it was Business Statistics - and our professor had assured us that the test would be a
practical one in the computer lab. Aanndd, I am pretty good at stats and
excel... soooo....I went to sleep. Nothing wrong with the plan but I did not leave room for things to go wrong. Which considering that this is my life was a BIG mistake.

I woke up at 2:45 am when my phone rang. My little sister was on the
phone, sobbing as if her heart would break. She'd had another run in with
my folks. I tried to calm her down but with a flair for drama, second to
none (not even me), and without saying the actual words, she managed to convince me that her bags were packed to run away. Terrified and remembering my parents
"tyranny" from my "childhood" (more about that later) I tried to convince
her not to take any drastic decisions while she was emotional. Finally I
had to tell her that I had to hang up on her cos I was almost crying
myself. It was about 4 am at that time. After that I enjoyed an hour or
two of crying until I realized that it was almost 6 am and I had not
studied anything. Sooo... I started looking through my excel files, had a
bath, drove the almost 40 kms to college, screwed up the paper so badly
that I still can't bear to think about it, drove home in a daze and
collapsed on my sofa to welcome the new year.

-*-*-*-

Funny thing is there was just one person in Pune that I wanted to meet that
day. And on the list of all the people who wanted to meet me... that name
was conspicuously missing.

After all it's one thing to actually be able or unable to do something. But
able or unable wasn't the question. The question was about the wanting to
be able. Very mixed up I know, but unfortunately crystal clear to me.

Trial and Error

Okay, so I was wrong after all. My last miracle was a joke but one I badly needed at the time.

I need another one now. God, are you listening?

Folks heading home on the 25th. N me with exams till the 31st. Christmas has always sucked. This year it'll hit a new low and probably be joined by the New Year... the one occasion I've always enjoyed. The only thing that used to make up for the crap that went before.

This year I'll probably be home alone for the New Year. Growing up sucks. There was a time, not too many years ago, that I'd have been happy enough partying with a bunch of friends. This year, just friends aren't enough. I want my love around. Or at least my best friends, my connections. I want to bring in the New Year with someone I love. So I'll lie to my friends, and tell them I have plans. Pretend someone has come by from Goa or Mumbai. Anything to avoid partying with them.

And so I'll be bringing in 2012 alone. Life in Pune just turned rotten. Realising there's no one to spend New Years with will do that to you.

Maybe I'll fulfil another of my life's ambitions and get drunk. Drinking alone at home.... yay.... my first steps on the road to alcoholism and a nervous breakdown.

Head v. Heart

My heart has never done a very good job of looking out for me. As long back as I can remember it takes great pleasure in getting me in trouble.

My head on the other hand would have me lead a very boring but 'safe' life.

I still don't know which of them is looking out for my best interests and sadly I don't think I'll figure it out in this lifetime. Maybe each of them should have a blog of their own. Maybe then I'd understand what they want from me.

At least my head speaks clearly. Right now it's chanting the same speech continuously. Don't trust peoples words. Trust their actions.

My heart is pitifully begging me to listen and believe one more time.

"Listen to what or who Mr. Heart? Did you hear something I didn't? Did you hear something that made you feel better? I didn't. So if you think you did, you must have been listening to the words of a different song."

Not a fairytale

Once upon a time there was a girl. And she had a friend that she was very fond off. He stepped on her foot deliberately, and when she tried to explain that it hurt, he did not understand because you see no one had ever stepped on his feet (or maybe he just had strong feet). So the little girl, sad and lonely decided it would be better not to have any friends because she had very sensitive feet.

Then one day lo and behold she met a boy who had had his feet stepped on before. And she felt so safe. Finally she could risk her precious feet. He told her he understood how much it hurt when someone steps on your feet and he said he would never step on hers. They became best friends.

Last week he stepped on her feet.

And God Was On Holiday

She lay on the bed, stuffing a blanket in her mouth to stifle the sounds. Not that anyone would hear her anyway. Her next door neighbours were 3 walls away. They wouldn't hear her unless she screamed.

You may wonder why she tried to hide the sounds of her crying. She wondered too. Maybe it was more dramatic that way. Also, that way she didn't shock herself out of her crying jag. She'd been crying off and on all day. Putting on a fine performance for the Lord. Only he didn't seem to be watching.

Earlier in life God had actually responded to her pleas. Maybe now she was too far across the line for Him to be interested. Or maybe He felt she only remembered Him when she was sad. But that wasn't it. And being God He should have known that. She prayed to Him even when she was happy. Maybe cos she was always scared it wouldn't last. After all, it never did.

But still she tried. She'd lost faith in people. If she also lost faith in Him what else was left for her? Poor miserable piece of trash that she was.

But only inside. And only to herself at times ike this. People who saw her never saw the trash. Some saw a snob. Others a slut. Still others saw a child. All of them were right but all of them were wrong.

So she cried. Because almost no one saw her for who she was. And the one person who did, no longer saw her at all. And that,my friends, was the most painful loss of all.

Love, money, friends.... she'd lost them and lived. But this was the first time she did not have a single soul to look at her and see her for who she was. And God was on holiday.

Where have all the smart people gone?

I've just been reading random posts from my blog and here are my conclusions:

I need to blog more often. -> I need more blog-worthy material -> I need to stimulate my mind with interaction with mentally stimulating company ->

And that's where I get stuck.

Everyone in my life has their own little niche. With people from work I talk about the office, with my sister we grumble about family, with my non-office friends (a rapidly dwindling species heading for extinction) I talk about everyday life (ergo,their problems and mine).

This sucks. I need to get to know people who will help me rearrange my brain and who will not fit into any of my life's patterns. But I don't want someone who's too intellectual to have a nonsensical conversation with. See the problem?

Hmm.. the hunt is on... :)

Anger and Money and Nero Wolfe

I'm angry. And the problem is that just one thing is keeping me happy these days... n that's Nero Wolfe books. Which means in addition to being angry I'm also spending an average of 300 bucks per day buying ebooks online. And there are about 42 books in the series!

:(

I need anger management therapy... It'd probably save me money in the long run...