tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2269511108097711612024-03-28T04:53:25.337+05:00Psych RantThe Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.comBlogger519125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-82636442032156432382024-02-02T05:53:00.000+05:002024-02-02T05:53:06.817+05:00<p> Lately, I've had this feeling, over and over again. That. The connections, bonds and relationships you build over your lifetime are the most precious things in life. To meet people, old and new, to laugh with them, complain about how sucky adulting is, reminisce, offer support and get back some - it's beyond beautiful. Family, friendships, kind words. That's the stuff of life. I often think of how when we die, no one will talk about our grades, our designation or that paper we tried to publish or the job we couldn't get. They won't talk about that time you were having a bad hair day or your outfit wasn't on trend. They will talk about how well you listened, the advice you gave, the stories you shared and the laughter. They will remember that you made them feel at ease, you didn't judge, you made their day, perhaps their life, better. Me and s1 were talking the other day and I told her that I feel that I have been well loved. To be able to say that, to have witnessed love in its multitude, to have lived in people's hearts, to continue to do so - what else can one want? </p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-68146946152560466272024-01-09T11:30:00.001+05:002024-01-09T11:30:24.555+05:00Fever dreams.<p> A perfect time to write. </p><p>It's 3:50 pm. Monday afternoon. Late afternoon? It's been raining non stop. Snowed a little while i was sleeping. While A was getting ready for work and I was dreaming up a murder mystery with an ensemble cast. Where I was the murder victim and right before the end, when the killer was looking for me and I was trying to call out for help, I lost my voice. No matter what I did, I couldn't shout for help. But then a stoned asian family sort of saved me. And then I woke up. It was 12. Noon. I had a two day old leftover falafel wrap for breakfast. And tried a new flavor of coffee. Both were great. The living room is cosy, the white buttery soft cardigan I'm wearing is cozy and so are my dog printed pyjamas. I'm watching that movie, Good grief on netflix. That is very cozy as well. </p><p>You know what I miss? I miss friends. I miss the proximity of relations, friendships. The sillyness and laughter of friendships. The variety. That version of you that comes out with that person. Different people, different versions. But more or less the same. I spoke to V on the phone a while ago, and we talked about the royal family and then a little bit about our own families. THAT was very cozy as well. A warm heart, a light heart. Full, but not heavy. What else can one need?</p><p>If I could paint, I would paint portraits of people and fill the background with colours and images of what I imagine their subconscious would look like. I also feel that a lot of art lives inside me. An excess of emotion and imagination. What do I do with it? I think I would thrive in rooms with similar minds. But those rooms evade me. Those conversations evade me. Why please?</p><p>A great thing about cooking, other than eating delicious food, is boxing up some for your friends and giving it to them. I really love doing that. </p><p>Another thing that I have realized about myself is that my personal style in terms of fashion, is very basic. Toned down, practical. Severe casual leaning. Not always. But it's what comes naturally to me. </p><p>Its 9:54 pm now. It's still raining. I went to the gym. I ran. The endorphins did me some good. It snowed and rained at the same time, while i ran on the treadmill, listening to <i>boyz in paris</i>. Haha. Before that I went up to give our friends/neighbours the food I made last night. She gave me some pizza dough and a jacket. Sat with them for some chitchat. That was cozy too. It gave me joy. I've had dinner, I'm showered and scrubbed, smelling nice and finishing up Good Grief. </p><p>This weekend, I'm flying. To meet s1 and to stay with her for a few weeks after which I fly back home. Since when is this my life, where I fly here and there. Who am I? A lot of things have worked out this year. I checked all the boxes, except for the main one, the one I worked all year for. Life is tricksy that way. I think I'm dealing with it better than I thought i would. Kudos to me. At the gym, I saw a Sean Bean doppleganger. Maybe it was him. I guess we will never know.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-15006026235625565442023-12-23T05:03:00.002+05:002023-12-23T05:07:01.258+05:00Glimmer.<p>Mornings these days smell of pakistan and childhood. My khalas house. My old house. Lawns and dhoop. It smells the same. And stirs all sorts of feelings inside me. And I'm not a fan of nostalgia, especially when I'm pmsing. No thankyou.</p><p> Lindt's caramel and sea salt is divine. I take two blocks every day with tea but today I had four. Oops. I'm watching the wedding planner. It's 10 am. I'm done with breakfast and I'm lounging in my big baby pink hoodie and feeling cozy. I will doze off when sleep comes. I'm trying to savor this feeling. The world feels bleak and painful right now. But it has also made me more aware of the safety and comfort I live with everyday. It's overwhelming.</p><p>It's raining outside. I'm having coffee. I'm going to head out to gym after this. I have things to do. But I don't want to do them. I'm allergic. I don't want to do anything cumbersome anymore. Last night I was thinking. Self reflecting maybe. That I am a creature of comfort. </p><p>Guess what I really miss right now. Heaters in the dark, back home. When the light is out, and all you can do it sit around the heater, possibly munching on peanuts with family lazing around different parts of the room. Then someone suggests we need chai, and everyone agrees. Then my mom offers samosas or <i>ghar walay chips</i> and we say yes please. And life is good.</p><p>---</p><p>This post ^ has been sitting in my drafts for over a month. So i will write some more and publish.</p><p>The past month has been mostly about me languishing. Gym saves me. The mall too. But other than that, haven't done much. There is so much anxiety and guilt attached to being free. Non productive. I know everyone says rest is good, rest is important. But, because my career hasn't panned out the way i planned, despite mountains of effort, I feel I might not deserve this rest. Then I tell myself no. I do in fact deserve it. I deserve to wake up and plan fun activities, waste time, take it slow. When else will I get this chance? I am trying my best to rest. But it's hard. Sound like first world problems. Sound like anxiety problems. But it is how i feel. </p><p>Things that annoy me about movies:</p><p>People brushing their teeth and talking at the same time.</p><p>People vomit all the time, and they show us the vomit.</p><p>They always say I love you accidentally, mid sentence. Then they're caught so off guard by the realization I mean fuck off already. Didn't you know?</p><p>The main character takes his/her love interest to a lake side or a rooftop and tells them how they used to come up here or down there with their grandfather or dad or mum or uncle who would impart endless wisdom and build core memories.</p><p>There are many more but I will pause for now.</p><p>---</p><p>It's a beautiful day. Orange and golden and three and a half shades of blue. </p><p>I am having coffee, so I can go to the gym and run for 30 minutes, followed by maybe 20 minutes on the AMT? Or will I do the rowing machine today. We will see. </p><p>We will have Palnadu biryani from this place tonight. I am salivating at the thought. </p><p>Alright bye.</p><p><br /></p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-45983099122097847052023-10-12T09:07:00.004+05:002023-10-12T09:15:53.204+05:00Volcanic.<p> I have been in this situation before. Overwhelmed, stressed, stretched really really thin. Maybe it doesn't take much for me to feel this way, or maybe I am undermining my struggles. I don't know. But what I know is that here I am again. Juggling sand. And I can't wait to get out of this. But I also think, this is life. And these are the good kind of problems. These are not health problems, it's not grief, it's not discontent. It's just stress and struggle. If not this, it will be something else. So might as well.</p><p>A is out of town for the week. It's the first time I'm in this apartment all by myself. Interesting. I'm going to use this time to be productive AF. I'll try to go out for some time today. The air is fresh and getting chilly fast, which is what I like. </p><p>-</p><p>That ^ was weeks ago. In the meantime, I crossed a major milestone, a major something ticked off my list. And what is left is one last exam. So here I am, still going. Engines roaring, full steam. Onward. Forward.</p><p>-</p><p>PMS was devastating this time around. Reminds me of this scene from fleabag about women having pain on a cycle, having pain built-in. It's part of us. And it's not just physical, the pain. It's emotional, mental, social - all sorts. I mean, God really wanted to show us how strength can look different in men and women. I love how women are soft and strong at the same time. Divine stuff. Nothing less. </p><p>-</p><p>A is being too nice. I don't know what to do. The other day, he got me warm socks. And green tea. And he is making food. And giving head massages. And I think bringing me my favorite breakfast wrap from starbucks is his new love language. Thank God for companionship. And friendship. And love. And play.</p><p>-</p><p>I wrote a whole thing in my journal about what I miss about home the most. Its my funny little home, ,and the funny little place it's located in. Where I walk. And where the funny little market is. Our funny little living room with the curtains and the funny cushions. The tiles. The out of place furniture. My funny little room. That house is too much. But it's what I miss the most about home. Being there. With my funny little family. Uh oh, this made me cry. </p><p>-</p><p>I've been waking up at 7 am lately. It's nice. We watched the Pak vs Netherland match and had coffee and peanut butter toast. Then A left for work. I spent a long time cleaning the kitchen. I finished Fleabag and my tea an hour ago. The priest situation broke my heart, but why was it it so beautifully done? Didn't expect that. Some things leave an impact. Hmm. </p><p>-</p><p>Fall is here. So is thanksgiving and halloween. Everything is orange. Today was wonderfully cozy. I had a laser appointment which was excruciating, but then we had fish and chips in the rain. Some coffee, walked around the water, closed my eyes on the drive back home, listening to Abida Parveen. The trees look like magic these days. </p><p>-</p><p>I was thinking something today. About the concept of success. And how many a times I equate it to having more money and a better job, when I know that health, relationships, time, doing good, moments of joy and connection are what life is really about. Career, is just ONE thing. Yet it takes up 90% of my brainspace. And has currently given me an intractable headache that just won't leave me. <i>Sigh.</i></p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-48903643687127420282023-08-25T04:06:00.002+05:002023-08-25T04:06:49.325+05:00Love in Marriage.<p> </p><p>Its going out at 2 am to look for shooting stars. Giving him vitamins when i take mine. And vice versa. Its forced cuddling and hair stroking. Its not agreeing on a rug because he wants it soft and I want it stylish. It's fighting over who gets to use the new mug. And who gets the mug with more chai in it. It's cooking together. Elaborate breakfasts on saturday mornings immediately followed by a heavy lidded stupor. Him eating the parathas i made, that made our jaws hurt. Washing the car on Sunday. Letting me do the fun bits. Dirty jokes. Preposterous jokes. Inside jokes. Green tea every night. Hate-watching sex and the city re runs and psychoanalyzing all the characters. Racing each other to the washroom. Spontaneous purchases from Facebook marketplace that we kinda sorta regret but won't say out loud. Him force-feeding me blackberries straight from the tree. Competing over who is more tired and who has the worse headache. Ice cream at midnight. Spending an hour trying to pick the best paint by numbers kit and not buying any. Incessant requests for back massages and leg massages. Putting calamine lotion on his mosquito bites. 11 pm grocery shopping. Difficult conversations. Avoiding conversations. Apology hugs. Pep talks. Ugly crying. Laughing while crying. Crying from laughter. Teasing. Heavy meme traffic, two-way, 24/7. Custom ringtones. 'Can you turn the lights off?' 'Will you iron my shirt'? 'Do you want coke with this?', 'Come to bed', 'Can i tell you what all i did today?', 'Wow', 'So i spoke to xyz this morning..', 'I miss home', 'Go treat yourself today', 'Doesn't the house smell nice?', 'Did you get the keys?', 'Meet me in the mall', 'What perfume is this?', 'What should i make?', 'Come down in 5 mins', 'I'm happy we're so happy'.</p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-47969590962378070492023-08-10T08:26:00.000+05:002023-08-10T08:26:22.267+05:00So it is.I woke up early today. After A left for work, I came out to the living room, now that I have the apartment to myself. I made a quick breakfast. Something about a monday morning with a fully stocked kitchen. Exciting. I had some coffee, eggs, toast, peanut butter and jam. I watched another episode of In treatment, the newest season. Dozed off halfway through the episode despite the construction workers outside drilling directly into my skull. I spoke to my parents next. Mom said my eyes looked swollen. The first thing she asked was 'Did you cry?'. Thankfully, I hadn't. I was just sleepy. I showed her a point where my eye was hurting and she being she, told me I must put in eye drops and stop it from becoming a thing. And my dad being dad, did a cute joke where he took out some eye drops and mom said, look your dad has taken them out, he's offering to put them in your eye. And then he gestured as if putting the eyedrops through the camera in my eye across oceans. I played along. We laughed. It was cute. What a morning. I have realized I love taking care of our place. I like keeping it clean and smelling nice. I love getting groceries. I love eating the food i make. I still haven't mastered making soft roti, but i would say its pretty round and above average. So pat on the back for me. <div>I have made a list of tasks that I need to do today. Hmm, maybe I will document how I'm doing as the day goes by. </div><div>For now, I am going to study. After that, I need to work on another document and then start on citing my paper. Also, I need to fill some forms. And make dinner. Dare I add a yoga session? HMMMM. We shall see. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>--</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay I'm writing again after 2 days. So much for documenting an entire day. From what I can recall, I did manage most of the tasks from up there^, except yoga. Of course. And I think I didn't make dinner, we went out instead. Or was that yesterday? I don't know. Days are a blur. There is so much work to do. Yesterday I cried twice, while trying to trouble shoot my problems. But God is great as usual, and one of them did get solved. The weird thing is, I am moving, moving, moving. It's been years. Little by little, with too many lapses and too many guilt ridden, anxiety heavy, denial stuffed breaks. Still moving. That gives me hope. The fact that there is movement, means I'm on a path, and there must be a destination. And God willing, I will get there. Dinner for tonight is chicken chowmein. I have a suspicion that A bought lettuce instead of cabbage. Oh well. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>--</div><div><br /></div><div>Last night I was surprised to find out that it was thursday already and the weekend was just around the corner. I thought it was still Tuesday. That's how my days have been lately. And it was cabbage, not lettuce.</div><div><br /></div><div>--</div><div><br /></div><div>I am now writing this on another Tuesday. The weekend came and went. But it was a really good one. We did a desi nashta, grocery, I SWAM IN A LAKE, just hung out, ate delicious pizza and what not. Today, I submitted the final draft of my research manuscript. Only God and I know what it took for me to do that. I am not the most disciplined person and DAMN was this hard. I hope i don't have to do a lot to it for it to be submitted. Let's see. </div><div>I'm making chicken karahi, I want to make it spicier today. I mopped the floors, and handwashing two of A's t-shirts. Also re-watching the movie Closer. I don't feel well. I have cough and a bad headache.</div><div>Today i was coughing like a madman while on the phone with someone and she asked me if I missed home when i was sick. And i was like, are you trying to make me cry right now? Well I didn't say that but of course I miss home when I am sick. But I hardly ever go down that road, because i can't afford to. Well the food is ready, and the shirts are washed and the aata is goondh-ed, and my headache is worse. Thankyouverymuch.</div><div><br /></div><div>I do love life, nonetheless. It's quite a challenge. And I hope to God I'm doing okay, because sometimes i'm not so sure. Am I doing enough? Is this my best? I don't know. </div><div><br /></div><div>Isn't it funny that everyday when A comes home, I pretend to be asleep and we do this entire play-act thing where I open one eye and find him staring at me from the door, and I pretend I didn't notice him come in and get startled, and then we laugh about it. Every day. </div>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-25161312127807352902023-05-30T10:54:00.003+05:002023-05-30T10:54:27.193+05:00Little notes from Notes.<p> Today is Friday. Feels like a Friday which is just the way I want it. I made biryani today. From the recipe on the box. It came out good enough. I also made sewiyan again. I want to make something sweet every Friday. Let's see if I can follow through. There's something about creating your own little traditions. </p><p>It's almost golden hour. Me and A had a good meal and watched Ted lasso. Now he's on the phone and I've come to the room. I might nap. Afternoon naps can be so nostalgic. I'm conveniently ignoring the mountain of strange and frustrating work that's pending for me. I need to do more if we want to go for a hike tomorrow. Yikes. </p><p>We did the hike and it was glorious. I feel like writing more now. That's good. I did a ton of laundry this morning and I'm happy with the results. Speaking of being happy with the results, I have been trying some more of mom's recipes lately. I made mutton last night. And the masala tasted just like my mom's. To make something that my mom makes and have it taste just like hers. It's like recreating Home.</p><p>It's Friday again. I have showered and used a new towel and wore a new shirt that says 'Less Monday, more summer'. Whatever that means. And I rubbed a little scent on my neck. I feel good. I'm going to have Chai and a vanilla biscuit. I've been avoiding work since I woke up. Maybe I should dive into it. Confront the anxiety monster. Maybe just a little hello. Let's see. </p><p>I was going to wake up early today and be productive. Instead, I took the day off. Day off from everything. The laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, the working, the studying, the walking, the visiting. I lounged on the couch most of the day. Me and A went to the Desi restaurant to have my favourite daal which was disappointingly bland. But good day overall.</p><p>I find it insane, Beethoven's progressive deafness at the peak of his career. You couldn't write a better script. Speaking of scrips, Watched the Succession finale last night. What a show. A masterpiece. I love it when brilliant art leaves me in awe. Aren't we lucky? That creativity exists. Genius exists. And perfect execution exists. To even have the ability to appreciate such craftsmanship.<i> *chef's kiss*</i> These are the good things in life. </p><p>I'm flying to see V in a few days. That's combined with a career related thing. Anxiety and excitement. I hope June is kind to me. I am afraid I wasted May a little. I have so many conflicting thoughts. Some thoughts I'm afraid to think. I don't know man.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-55015271686412414112023-04-28T12:39:00.001+05:002023-04-28T12:39:09.660+05:00Portion control. <p> I haven't been writing. Not in my journal, not here, not in my notes. Maybe a line or two in the password protected app on my phone. A little bit on tissue papers. I haven't been writing because I have been afraid of feeling. Still am, but better. I'll give this a shot.</p><p>I'm typing, btw, on A's work laptop. It's a strange feeling. We went for a walk around the lake earlier today. Around 8ish. The sun was setting, a man was fishing, the ducks were being a*holes, and the birds chirping away. The walk turned into a nice steady jog, one that I badly needed. I was working on my research article most day today. Almost gave me a migraine it did. I needed the run and the ducks and the endorphins. </p><p>I don't know what else to say. I don't know how to write without being consumed. My thoughts go back home every time I start to write, and that makes me teary eyed and I just don't want to go down that road. Still don't. It's not that I have not cried. I have. I do. Every now and then. But i know that if i let myself, I could - I would, go on for days. I don't want to do that. So bite sized palatable portions of homesickness for me for now. </p><p>I have more work tomorrow. I really really hope I can get some shit done. </p><p>Something that I enjoy doing here is going for grocery runs with A. We go to the mall every other day. I don't know why suddenly, it is so much fun to get grocery every day. I enjoy that. I enjoy going to the nearby drugstore as well. I enjoy wiping the kitchen counters clean and the stove top clean before I sleep. Its easy to do, and makes me feel productive. I've been cooking a lot. That's huge. I feel great when I make something good. I have made Chicken karahi three times now. It was good every time. Yay me. </p><p>M says I need to validate myself for my achievements because at the end of the day, no one will know my battles, my mountains, my struggles the way I do. Maybe for someone, its just chicken karahi or sewiyan. For me, it's a triumph over the stickiest mental barrier.</p><p>I have one month before I go visit V. DAMN. The excitement. We will be meeting after maybe 6 years? I don't know. We talk every day. Every. Day. Now that we are in the same (well, almost) time zone, we talk on the phone more often. And we finally get to meet in June. I think it will be wholesome.</p><p>My hands are cold. But I have the window open, cuz I'm trying to air dry our laundry. The dryer apparently shrinks the clothes. What's the point then? And why has no one solved this problem in 2023?</p><p>A is home and brought back some cheesecake. I'm going to have it tomorrow morning after or in prep for my zoom class that will induce stress thankyou. </p><p>I am going to start writing more in my notes app. And hopefully some of it will end up here. </p><p>Let's see. </p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-45945905761159011222023-03-27T08:34:00.004+05:002023-03-27T08:34:53.350+05:00Tiger in a tiger's mask.<p> I've been trying to write a post for a month. I guess I'm not the only one. But the reason I haven't written is because I'm afraid of emotions to spill over. I'm barely keeping afloat. </p><p>I have moved across the world. </p><p>I will write more later. It's not that there isn't much to write. The opposite actually. But I can only do that when I have my wits. Currently, not sure If i do.</p><p>Tea tastes good today, finally.</p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-31755588569353322372023-02-02T01:07:00.001+05:002023-02-02T01:07:23.972+05:00Feb.<p> February is right around the corner. My favourite month by FAR. Something magical about feb. AND I am hoping i will get my visa next month as well. Its a feeling. And its the last touch of winter. And I was borned in feb too.</p><p>I have developed a new obsession: Fragrances. </p><p>Its an expensive obsession. I want a huge perfume closet. I want all of them. There a couple on my list that i will definitely get once I move. Last night I wore a very nice scent and enjoyed it through out the time I was out. However, no one complimented me. Wtf? That's alright..I guess.</p><p>Can you tell, I'm a tad bit over caffeinated right now. A little wonky tonky.</p><p>I've got to say. A bed side table is an amazing thing. Everything you need is there. Mine currently has my water bottle. A night cream. My watch, charger, lamp. Floss. A couple of hair pains. Melatonin. A hair tye. A gel pen. A mug of green tea. My earbuds. A box of tissues. And an eye mask that I don't use. WHAT ELSE can one need? I also think I need to declutter a bit lols. On the other side however I have my journal, another pen. A tasbeeh. Panadol. And a tweezer. I think I am equipped for life, just sayin.</p><p>When they say emotional regulation is the most important skill to have, perhaps they are right. At times I stick out like a sore thumb, more often than I'd like. And more often than not, I channel my inner snail. And retreat to my shell. And more often than not, it seems to be the only way to go. However, I'm glad that tomorrow is a new day. Its almost a miracle. How we get a new shot at life every 24 hours. We take it for granted, but it really is a blessing. To begin over and over. </p><p>Well. Today is the 1st of Feb. And guess what. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>My visa arrived. </b></span>Miracles do happen. I told A, we will be cuddling ten hours per day and I will glue myself to him and he said I can do whatever I want. </p><p>But also guess what, I've been mush inside all day. I am feeling at least 73 emotions right now. And have cried about 15 times as well. I don't know if anyone can understand all that I am feeling and why. But I do feel it all, and intensely so. A mountain of uncertainty lies ahead. There's that saying that goes something like Tell your mountains about your God. So i guess I shall. </p><p>Every thought in my mind is tagged with an emotion. Sometimes I wonder how life would be if I didn't have to hold back my tears so much, so often. Hmmm. Easier, I think. Life would be easier. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-84587887373842887382023-01-15T23:28:00.004+05:002023-01-16T01:30:48.439+05:00 a ten second poem<p> I go for a walk </p><p>and the trees</p><p>the ones with no leaves</p><p>are so beautiful</p><p> i could cry</p><p>i try </p><p>not to stare</p><p>at the white house </p><p>on the way</p><p>the house with</p><p> the lights</p><p>so bright </p><p>I walk by</p><p>I try</p><p>Not to pry</p><p>At orion and his friends</p><p>but I do take a peak</p><p>every now and then</p><p>while Mozart</p><p>moves my heart</p><p>then i fall</p><p>lol</p><p>why?</p><p>cuz my head is in the sky</p><p>again.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-40259294469430133322023-01-12T18:02:00.003+05:002023-01-12T18:02:40.738+05:00Attempts.<p> So, the new year is here. Its the 3rd already. What? I did not make any resolutions. To be honest, all i want is to have some control over my day, or days.</p><p>I love scented tissues. Scented most things actually. I have this black-grey cape shawl that my mom got me. It's something I've used quite consistently every winter. I love the way it smells. Of a blend of perfumes I've been </p><p><br /></p><p>There is some kind of a romantic living in the house next door. Two of his/her favourite songs are 'Summer wine' and 'Hello' .And he (i think its a him) always plays them in the morning. Its 11 am. And it feels kind of nice to have coffee in bed right now, and listen to Lionel Richie say I love youuu.</p><p>Aren't I a little too old to be dreaming of riding a bicycle in my old housing colony where i grew up, where the pedals get harder and harder to move? Can you get more basic</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A post has been stuck inside me, and I write a sentence or two every day, but nothing sticks. </p><p><br /></p><p>Right, long distance is hard. But me and A have had some wonderful conversations during this time. Its a comfort, being on the same wavelength about life. To laugh about the silliest things. To be best buds with your life partner is an exquisite kind of joy. </p><p>Blah</p><p>My cat ate a hair tie today. </p><p><br /></p><p>I'm going to post this. </p><p>Hello to everyone who commented recently. How refreshing to know there are eyes on the other side of the screen as well. :) </p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1261213945234281792022-12-10T20:16:00.003+05:002022-12-10T20:34:33.899+05:00Freestyle<p>Is winter even winter if you don't sit by the heater and eat peanuts? </p><p>I feel lonely. Even though s2 was here the past 2.5 days. I'm back to feeling this way. I feel unmotivated. And anxious. I got my cat spayed a few days ago. And boy has it been tough. I think I am not the best candidate for being a cat parent. I worry way too much. People tell me not to obsess but. I obsess. I have tried not to, but I am baseline worried all the time. I don't think I should be a cat parent. Even though I love my cat. There I said it.</p><p>Two other things about me, are that I require a certain amount of control over my routine and my time. And when it is involuntarily taken from me, my battery drops so fast - before you know it I'll either explode or implode. Another thing about me is. I don't like to multitask in life. Bas.</p><p>I'm weirdly nostalgic about my hostel life right now. I don't recall the last time I felt this way. Somehow lately, in spite of living alone more or less, having a lot of free time and not many obligations, I continue to feel out of control. As if, I'm trying to keep up and do what needs to be done but constantly falling short. I'm half tempted to start one of those '<i>living alone diaries</i>' or '<i>study with me</i>' vlogs. But I hate putting myself out there. Publicly. Inviting people in. I just can't. That's maybe the main reason i haven't switched to insta-blogging. I just like this better. M said some things that resonated with me today. She said I have been so used to having my routine be controlled by external factors that now when most of them have been removed, I don't know what to do with myself. She said I will have to cultivate motivation myself. </p><p>I cooked Achari aloo today. I wanted more praise than got.</p><p>Last night I baked some sweet potatoes for the first time. I overcooked them, but they still tasted beautiful. I have realized that i love sweet potatoes. Yum!</p><p>These days I'm exploring the pleasures of sitting in the steam room after a swim. The first day, I could barely sit for 5 minutes. Now I think I can sit for 15 mins easy. Its somewhat cathartic. Just passively exfoliating my emotions. </p><p>WHY. WHY is is that just because I have a phone. Anyone can reach me, and then I am obligated to reach back? And give some shit ass excuse to why I didn't answer earlier? Why why why why why. I don't like being so accessible. :(</p><p>My cat's had her 10 day follow up at the vet today. To get her stitches removed. And unfortunately, and because the world hates me, the incision has not fully healed. And now I need to apply an ointment to her wound twice a day for 5 more days and continue to limit and monitor her. Kill me. </p><p>I have missed out on all FIFA matches. Will I watch the semi final tonight? Its the semi final is it not? Not sure. </p><p>Watching The White Lotus lately. The soundtrack is the main character of the show. </p><p>I think Im going to change up my blog's look. Its too dark and what not. We'll see.</p><p>Bye I'm angry. </p><p><br /></p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-49322402237244316602022-11-26T00:51:00.001+05:002022-11-26T00:51:43.303+05:00Intermittent. <p> You know what I am really craving right now? Going to someone's house for tea. Or dinner. Or lunch. Not a family gathering, no. Those are tedious and have too many aunties. I want to go to a friend's house. A couple of friends just hangin' out. There was a time when this was possible. Not anymore though. Everyone lives here and there. Somewhat like British Asian actor Ahsan Khan. Iykyk.</p><p>On the other hand, swimming has been going super. I've had some hiccups. But my freestyle has improved a great deal and I am so proud of myself. No one is interested in my enthusiasm regarding this but i tell everyone nonetheless. A shows interest. I report to him my swimming updates everyday. About how my goggles were bothering me and how I fixed them, and he suggested what I could do to get a better fit. I tell him about the women who come to swim at the same time I do. The old aunty who can't really walk but swims. Their conversations. I tell him how clean the water was on a certain day. How I like it when I can see sunshine in the water halfway through the length, a patch where the sun leaks through the roof. How, when I get the pool all to myself, I break all rules and swim diagonally across it. Sometimes in circles. Sometimes I imagine I'm training for something. For a day when I'll have to swim in the sea. Other times, I'm happy to just build on my relationship with the water. At times I glide so effortlessly through the water, i wonder if it looks as beautiful as it feels. Who knows. At least in my mind it does.</p><p>Just finished watching Emily. It's based on Emily Bronte. Now I must begin the process of separating fact from fiction, and google will help. In any case, at times movies that make me feel things. it can be a double edged sword. Because then I too want more adventure. Connection. More connection. More experiences. And more..just. My kind of more. </p><p>V said I don't mention her in my blog. It's weird that I haven't. I guess I used to when we lived together but not anymore. Which is also weird because we do talk every day. Great thing about V is. She asks many questions. She's curious about the weirdest things and it gives one something to talk about. Not that we have ever had an issue finding something to talk about. I hope I can visit soon. Sooner rather than later. Fingers crossed. </p><p>I do also want to mention cricket. I wish i could be poetic af about it. But its too late at night and my head hurts. But. The amount of joy and exhilaration Pakistan cricket has given me and my friends s2 and mr.s2, it was something special. Definitely outstanding. I think I am officially a cricket fan. Now there's Fifa and I'm a little slow to get on the bandwagon. But I'll get there.</p><p>I don't know how much more of this limbo I can take. I am also tired of silently dealing with the toll it takes. Some days are hard. And some nights are really hard. But then there are days when I am okay. I hope the ratio shifts to the latter. </p><p> The melatonin's kicking in. </p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-9270757082801151602022-11-08T16:28:00.001+05:002022-11-08T16:31:52.735+05:00Maybe you should talk to someone.<p> I just finished reading 'People we meet on vacation'. Light hearted, yet tender with a dash of idealism and cheese. Finished it in 3 days. Exactly what I needed. But now I miss A more and want to travel the world together. We won't be delirious with untapped chemistry and volcanic sparks like the lead characters in the book are. I'd take marriage over that any day. But I also think OD-ing on contemporary romantic fiction is not a very good idea when you're stuck in a long distance relationship. Hmmm.</p><p><br /></p><p>The past week has been good. s2 and Mr.s2 came over and stayed for three days. It was more fun than I expected it to be. The days flew by. They left today, and the house is silent. I had the laziest day. I ate and I slept and I read on repeat. And its already 10 pm. Feels like 6. </p><p><br /></p><p>A maid that we had living with us for the past few years, left today. I cried as she packed up her life from the room next to mine and left. I hid in the washroom so I won't have to say goodbye. I hate goodbyes. I don't know why I had to hide though. Isn't this a normal reaction to someone leaving? To be sad and cry and mourn their absence no matter who they are?</p><p> </p><p>So in other news. I got covid. What a weird time to get it. Out of the blue. I'm drinking a disgusting ginger tea to soothe my thorny throat. Binging on Greys' anatomy. Yes I still watch it and I love Meredith Grey, sue me. My new swimsuit is here, I'm so excited. It's so skimpy. Last night I was on video call with A and he was sticking our polaroid photos on his fridge. And I started to cry. Long distance is a bitch. Ouch my stomach hurts.</p><p><br /></p><p>At night, I am inundated with feelings. The ones that threaten to drown me. Consume me. When the time comes, I fear it will feel like I'm getting married all over again. Leaving my family to go live somewhere else, with another family. Only this time, I can't come back on weekends. I tell myself this will only be for a few years, but for someone who is as bad at goodbyes as I am. That's no consolation. I know we will find a new normal. I know I will visit. And I know life doesn't stay the same and at some point we have to venture out and experience it separately from our families. But it doesn't stop me from feeling these heavy feelings that drown my heart. When it feels like I can't bear it. Daylight, of course makes everything better. Tolerable. But at night, I resent my soft heart. It is not easy to feel so much all the time. So much that you are googling '<i>How to care less about your cat's feelings'</i> at 6 am in the morning. It's tough, being soft. </p><p><br /></p><p>I am so bored. And it has only been two days of me being in my room. I am SO bored. How much tv can a girl watch? I don't have energy to do much else. Showering and eating are pleasurable, yes. But what do i do the rest of the time? Maybe. Maybe I should write write and write some more. Maybe I will do that. Ugh. </p><p><br /></p><p>BYE.</p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-82086055035812951532022-09-28T22:21:00.002+05:002022-09-28T22:25:56.000+05:00Versus. I'm here in the other city. I'm up on the terrace. Dragged an office chair out and here I am. Sitting in silence. I can smell tea being made somewhere nearby. I can hear women conversing in a language - fuck. A mosquito just bit me. This isn't worth it. I'm going inside. <div><br /></div><div> This has been a month of catching up with old friends. Its a joy to know that we are able to talk for hours after not talking for years. After quietly existing in each other's lives with barely a text or two, it is great that our hearts are still warm and toasty and there's no ice to break.</div><div><br /></div><div> Can I say that this might be my favourite time of the year? The rolling in of winter. The wrapping up, and drying up and packing away of summer with it's heat and its noise. A stillness slowly settling in. The silence of no fans and no A.Cs. The faint smell of ilaichi on my evening walks. Oh how nostalgic and how wonderful. It's funny that A was born at the start of winter and I was born at the end. Just an observation.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> The other day I listened to a podcast about loneliness and connection. They said loneliness is the disparity between the connections you have and the connections you need. Accurate isn't it? I liked that. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> Swimming is going better. I'm not in the city these days and I already miss it. At times I start to get frantic with my face in the water, trying to get enough breath in, and to move my legs right and my arms right and my head right. But then I remind myself to let go. To be in the water. Actually BE in the water and not fight it. And before I know it, my body unclenches and relaxes and suddenly I breathe better and then I swim better. Isn't it fascinating how there are lessons in literally everything?</div><div><br /></div><div> I have to say. I have said it before but I'll say it again. Making my parents laugh is one of my biggest joys in life. And watching them bicker with each other. What a treat. What a privilege to have grown up around a love like that. A love with laughter and madness. A love that stays.</div><div><br /></div><div> One way to describe my relation with A would be that he is the wind beneath my wings. I'm thinking I'll write that on his birthday card next month. So that he knows.</div>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-29044887141854018002022-09-23T02:24:00.001+05:002022-09-23T02:24:48.539+05:00Of no help.<p> Something that I really appreciate about my parents is how they let me be in my room. I mean, yes I am an adult and staying here indefinitely, not for too long hopefully. But I'm still their kid. And it's refreshing to be left by myself. It's 2 pm. And i can hear them watch TV downstairs, but they don't care. They don't give a shit about what im up to. How refreshing. It makes me want to spend more time with them. Because I get to choose. Little freedoms can mean a great deal at times.</p><p>*</p><p>The other day i tripped and fell, while walking. I haven't fallen down in a while. Or had my palm scratched on gravel. It was so nostalgic. Funny isn't it. Anyhow turns out that my feet have betrayed me. I can't seem to continue walking for long hours anymore without it feeling like i have somehow offended the earth itself causing it to attack my toes every step i take. Bummer. BUT. I had my first swim today. After maybe a decade? Or more. Loved feeling the water around my skin. Not on my skin, just around it. What a feeling. </p><p>*</p><p>The other night i wrote an entire blog post in my head about all the ways therapy has helped me. Maybe I will write one eventually. Maybe i won't. But the awareness of how far I've come, the work I've done, the persistence with which I have fought for myself, to be myself, is something I am so proud of. Maybe proud is not the right word. Its more like comfort. An assurance. A warm blanket. It is me being on my team. Me coaching me and me cheering for the me who is on the field. That on its own, has been quite the experience and I'm glad for it.</p><p>*</p><p>Today has been odd. In due consideration of my hormones and shit as fuck mood, the entire day was spent on the bed. Binging on Ted Lasso. A show after my own heart. Eating chocolate and banana bread. Journaling. Napping. Sulking. Frowning constantly. Listening to Brene Brown try to explain emotions. Hiding from guests for 4 hours. And crying a little bit. Its almost midnight and it feels like .. I don't know. 4 pm? or 10 pm? I don't know. I am down in the dumps and i don't even feel like picking myself up. I just don't have the energy. </p><p>*</p><p>Things were better today, even though it seemed impossible. Did a lot of sorting and getting things ready for Monday which is an important day for me. I hope all goes well. I went swimming again today. There was a cockroach in my slipper. I felt it on my foot. Prickly. I told A this happened and he said You must've died right there, and i said yeah. I was pretty stunned for a bit. And then I tried to be brave about it. But I am still curling my toes right now, thinking about it. ICK! </p><p>I got to talk to A for longer today. </p><p>*</p><p>The funk continues. Despite a great weekend with a quick solo trip outside the city, wholesome reunion with two friends, and a very, very good news. I still feel low. And did not go swimming today either. Watched a hundred videos about proper breathing techniques under water, but did not end up going in said water. Great. I think it's time that i force myself to make some changes. To push myself out of the funk. No one else can or will do it. So. Tomorrow, hopefully. </p><p>Enough paragraphs. Time to hit publish.</p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-43596038642287373522022-08-25T13:28:00.003+05:002022-08-25T13:36:07.886+05:00Baby, you have no idea.<p> At times I wonder.</p><p>What did I do? What have I really done, to be loved this way. </p><p>Last night I was re-watching La La land, and there's a line in there that says 'Why do you say 'Romantic' as if it's a bad word?'. And then I found my heart breaking over the beauty of some of the scenes. And i thought to myself. Love, is really all that matters. Or at least, it's one of the big ones isn't it. Or maybe the biggest? I'm also reading a book called All about love. And she too talks about how we just don't talk about Love that often. Maybe we don't know how to. We do make attempts. With our movies and poems and art and books. But have we really figured it out? No, i don't think so. It's ever elusive. It escapes us. Its bigger than us. Describing it, defining it, is containing it and reducing it. It has to be Felt. Lived. Shared. Screamed. Breathed. </p><p>Coming back to me feeling loved. Wanted. Appreciated. It is the greatest privilege of all. When old friends tell you they've always missed you and you're still their go-to person. When a stranger waves at you excitedly every time you run into them. When your cat recognizes your scent even though you don't live with her anymore. When she lets your pet her. When you allow yourself to disintegrate from stress, someone picks you up and brings you ice cream. When you celebrate in the middle of the road. Not alone. Knowing someone. To have been seen. Even missing someone, mourning someone. That's love. The absence of someone is love as well. Wanting to be loved is love as well. It exists even in non existence. Like God. Well. Let's dial back a bit. </p><p>What I mean is. What did I do? To have love surround me this way? Why is it that when I go for a walk, I feel the sky loves me too. The wind, the trees. Why does it feel that it's all for me? Why do I get to bathe in beauty this way? Woe to anything that makes love take a backseat. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>A rush. A glance. A touch. A dance. </i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>A look in somebody's eyes, to light up the skies</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>To open the world and send it reeling</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>A voice that says, I'll be here</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>And you'll be alright.</i></p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"></p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-14607466577696903172022-08-20T13:26:00.004+05:002022-08-20T13:26:56.265+05:00Savalanche. <p> I have always felt like God has me under His wing. I do complain, and fret and whine and sulk. About mostly everything. But inside, I know He got me. And I got this. I've also always known that I am great company. Lately I've had the privilege of spending a ton of time by myself and with myself. And it has been a riot. Yesterday for the first time, I went to watch a movie alone. I am so mad at myself for not having done it sooner. I had the absolute best time. Can't wait to go again. </p><p>I've been reading again. Getting in touch with old friends. Haven't made any new ones but that's alright for now. I've been walking. Smiling to myself with a jump in my step as I do so. At times it takes me by surprise how at ease I am, being this way. I think of course, the reason it comes easy is because I am loved. I am alone, but I'm not lonely. I have love around me and love waiting for me and I am waiting for it and looking forward to it as well. It's what keeps me going. </p><p>I am also grateful. Incredibly and incredulously so. Are things too good to be true? Well, I know a curve ball awaits me somewhere in the near future. It will be either this or that. But it will be something or the other. But I guess that's okay. For now, I'm nourished. I'm grateful to have the space and time to pause. To recharge. To play hooky a little bit longer. Things will be dealt with. Curve balls will be hit out of the park or dropped or get my nose broken with. We'll just have to see. </p><p>Till then. Smile! </p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-60692236285067505502022-08-06T10:51:00.001+05:002022-08-06T10:59:22.519+05:00Cat hair.<p> *fingers crossed* </p><p>This is my sixth attempt to write a blogpost in the past two months. The other five are rotting in the Drafts section. I'll try to write and quickly publish before I can have a second thought.</p><p>What prompted me to write however was a feeling of bliss. Slightly melancholic, yet bliss nonetheless. </p><p>Its 10 am and its just me in the house. Living alone can do wonders for your soul. I think I want to do this for longer but these few days are all I have. Anyway, coming back to what prompted me to write. Just a tummy full of yummy breakfast. A steaming cup of tea. The rain is loud and fat outside. Dim lights. Cold room. Chocolate covered almonds. And Only murders in the building. This show has pleasantly surprised me. I'm quite enjoying it. Just heard some thunder. This moment is perfect. Hence, the urge to write. And maybe save.</p><p>I've always enjoyed being on my own to be honest. Such liberation. I'm glad that hasn't changed. With time and trouble. There is a reunion of sorts happening inside me. Meeting parts of myself again. The ones I didn't have time for, amidst deadlines and dread. I'm walking again. And practicing yoga whenever I can. I think, maybe, lately everything has been an exercise in some way to meet myself. The old and the new. I love both. Both are me. </p><p>I have this urge to write and write and write. Imperfect words all of them. All my disjointed thoughts. I feel I must describe everything. </p><p>Gratitude comes easy. Peace somehow doesn't. I mean. Sometimes all this emotion. I wish I could dial it down. Just sometimes. Enough so that I don't have to google my cat's feelings and cry over them. Or enough to feel like I do deserve the boundaries i struggle to create. </p><p>My tea is getting cold. I do hope I go outside and spend some time on the porch. Dim lights are nice, but nothing beats daylight. I smile as i type this. Because I had a sticky note next to my bed back when I lived at the hostel. It said 'Nothing beats daylight'. I'm glad some things never change.</p><p>Isn't it funny how. Love without action can be quite useless? I have an abundance of love inside me. But imparting it, often exhausts me beyond capacity. If only feeling it were enough. What a world that would be. But i guess. Good things don't come easy. This just reminded me of the Work and energy principle we studied in physics. I just googled it and look what i found :</p><p><i>A person that holds a heavy object does no physical work because the force is not moving the object through a distance. Work, according to the physics definition, is being accomplished while the heavy object is being lifted but not while the object is stationary. </i></p><p>Well. Well. I guess holding all the love doesn't amount to shit. You gotta keep it moving. That's when the work happens.</p><p>Okay I think that's enough for today. Pressing Publish. Yes!</p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-84445448961481757682022-06-07T14:12:00.001+05:002022-06-07T14:15:01.245+05:00Jigsaw cuddles.<p> You tell yourself that everything will eventually work out. Things will fall into place, where they belong. Deep breaths. Pep talks. Muted palpitations. Compartmentalising. Procrastinating? Patience. Think positive. Take it one day at a time. We can do this. It's worth it. Much needed breaks. Paralysing anxiety. Deadline fatigue. Attempts to focus. Learn. Memorise. Repeat. Sleep. Dreams as deep as sleep itself. Wake up. A barrage of kisses and hugs. Every morning. To do lists. Shit to do. Shit to worry about. Shit to be sad about. Shit to panic about. Shit to cry about. Shit to brush under the rug. Exploding love. Jigsaw cuddles. A quiet understanding. Shared silences. A premature longing. Amidst all of it, you tell yourself. Everything will work out. Everything will eventually fall into place. </p><p>*</p><p>Yesterday was a full day. But a good one. We hopped from one government office to another. Stood in long lines, in 47℃, under direct attack from the sun itself. Got a lot of shit done. Had falsa juice and lemonade and top pops. Had a late lunch, early dinner at a place we like. Came home exhausted and binge watched Stranger things till late in the night. Made each other laugh through out. I cried in A's lap for a bit because of course. At one point, i told him i felt a lot of negative energy pent up inside me. When i'm done ranting, more often than not, his answer is either Yoga or Prayer. We often go for walks outside the house followed by Yoga with Adrienne. Makes my heart rest better. Last night i chose prayer. </p><p>*</p><p>Lately I feel as if my heart has softened a great deal more. With love. The way you soak a wet cloth and it comes out drenched. Heavier. What has caused it? I don't know. But i feel it. Almost as if i have to take care of it. Guard it and nurture it. I don't know. I don't know. </p><p>*</p><p>F*** double standards. </p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-67479847899866113852022-04-11T12:02:00.003+05:002022-04-11T12:02:52.364+05:00Don't let the monkey drown.<p> I'm having a tough time focusing. I'm having a tough time holding on to a single thought for more than 30 seconds. Ir maybe 5. I blame instagram. I've never been one of those people who go off social media and delete their apps when they decide to study for long periods or be productive in anyway. But now, at 30, (wow im thirty), it has finally started to make sense to me. I need my mind back. Also, I don't appreciate how just because I have a phone and i have whatsapp, I'm somehow available to everyone who has my number. At all times. Why? I think the solution is to just keep my phone away. I still do that from time to time, keep my phone at the other end of the room or not charge it when it has died down. Just for some respite. But unfortunately, before long, my monkey mind prances about, grabs my phone and checks out 20 different pages of online boutiques trying to decide what I want to wear on Eid, to impress aunties i don't even like, saving page after page because what if i might need it later?</p><p>Last night, while half asleep, i had this thought..that. This is not me. (keeping up with my theme of describing what is ME on this blog). I'm the girl who wears sneakers and a t shirt and goes happily about her day. Chirpin about. I'm the girl who has one good bag and one good wallet and refuses to hoard more because why should i? I feel i'm still that girl. Who is being held hostage by this IMPOSTER who wants to impulse buy 8/10 of the things instagram tells me i should buy. How did i turn into this monster? Well granted, my tiny t shirts don't fit me anymore. But still. You get the idea right. I don't need that shit.</p><p>Its true i'm not 20 or 25 anymore and my life doesn't look the same. I don't look the same. My wishes and dreams have evolved as have my struggles and strengths. But for some things, I'd like to lean back into parts of me that I might have left behind. This is one of them. Simplicity. It's a core value and I'd like to hold on to it.</p><p>When me and A were about to get married, i told him I'm not very 'lady like', and am sort of a clumsy monkey at heart. And he said he wished and hoped that i would stay a monkey even after we got married and i wouldn't let the monkey drown amidst all the shit society throws at me. He probably doesn't even remember this conversation, but i do and so Project Monkey is on from today okay?</p><p>Project monkey sounds like a good name for a song i'd write. Now i almost want to write it.</p><p>I wanted this post to be about something else. I slept badly last night. I had a dream so elaborate and long, it felt like a Lord of the rings movie. I can't recall it right now but i do remember when i woke up i couldn't believe ALL that was just a dream. It was magnificent is all i'll say. I do impress myself I do.</p><p>I plan on having a good day today. I'll do some yoga. I'll study at a good pace. And sleep peacefully. </p><p>Thanks.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-58914143172669710202022-03-17T18:51:00.002+05:002022-03-17T21:10:07.857+05:00Where the light don't shine.<p><br /></p><p>Sitting on my bedroom floor last night,</p><p>the room quiet, the lights dim, hands warm, feet cold,</p><p> in a stolen oversized t-shirt saying 'I refuse to sink',</p><p>not an ounce of makeup on my skin, hair let loose,</p><p>having Rice and Spice from KFC, </p><p>about 50 colour pencils sprawled around me,</p><p>trying to pick the right greens and the right reds,</p><p>listening to Joe rogan talk about sleep and psychedelics</p><p>comfortable in my own company,</p><p>I thought to myself..</p><p>this is Me!</p><p>Just like the rest of what is me. </p><p>And maybe i should write more about what is Me.</p><p>Tell my story in my own words. </p><p>When i was a kid, We used to write essays in school</p><p>'My self' - it was titled. Beginning of every year we did that.</p><p>I said I like fish and chips. With Fanta. </p><p>And badminton was my favourite. And reading books was my hobby.</p><p>i was gonna be a doctor. And open a hospital for poor people.</p><p>My mom told me to say that. The doctor bit.</p><p>I didn't write about how i hated cockroaches, </p><p>and rude people, and scoring less than an A+.</p><p>Wow, i digress. </p><p>I was just saying.</p><p>Maybe i wanna re-write the essay. </p><p>Re tell the story.</p><p>Maybe I will.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-33365874403502360722022-03-12T13:08:00.001+05:002022-03-12T13:08:55.952+05:00Hearts on a t-shirt. <p> </p><p>I know I've said this before, but i'll say it again. The person i am when i am out for a walk. I think that is who i really am. It's all me. Completely and absolutely. It's me and the trees. Me and the music, the podcasts, the phone calls, the thoughts, the silence. The bats, the birds. The <i>khrch khrch khrch</i> of my shoes on the gravel. The exhilaration. The wind in my face. Biting cold, or pleasantly cool. Even moist and heavy. It's me in my habitat. It's me and the sky. The moon, the clouds. The smell in the air. It's mine. I really think it's all mine. </p><p>My cat is on heat - AGAIN. I've had enough. Time for some snippety snip. </p><p>Two of my friends gave birth this week. How surreal. </p><p>Life likes to do a funny dance sometimes. I cried in the shower. Shadows of emotions followed me around all day yesterday, doing a dance of their own. At times, i really want to cry out loud about it. Really announce my grief to anyone who will listen. But no. It's a slow fucking mourning. And its taking its sweet time.</p><p>On the brighter side, it was s'2 birthday yesterday. It was plenty fun. Me s2 and mom went out for lunch. Girls day out. The weekend before that was also fun. There was laughter and food and stupor and some misadventure. Wholesome. Oh my. And the weekend before that. I turned 30. Yes. That happened. It was sweet. How do i feel about being 30? I feel ready. </p><p>I think if I ever get a chance to give a giant acceptance speech for something amazing that I've done. I will definitely be taking time out to thank my gut. I am an anxious person. Remember that scene in Infinity war, at the end where Dr strange thinks of the gazillion future possibilities in the metaverse all at once? That's me 76 times a day. At least. Haha okay fine maybe not but. I can get like that. Yet every once in a while, my gut gets a feeling about something. It just knows. Like in the movies. And every time Ive leaned in to it, it has served me well. It has allowed me to make decisions not out of fear (a mistake that I've made many times in the past) but despite of it. And I'm so, so grateful for it. For a gut that has IBS, but also a gut that knows. </p><p>Wow, all this talk of gut. I'm hungry.</p><p>Also this shade of white nail colour makes me look chic.</p>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-17096789785419973042022-01-04T12:05:00.007+05:002022-01-04T12:19:51.005+05:00A little bit about last year.Today seems like a day for writing. It rained when I wasn't looking and it's wet and grey outside. I'm wearing my extra warm sweater today. The haggard maroon one. Not letting this one go anytime soon. My coffee finished too fast. Some green tea will do. My green tea is called Morning glory. Or morning glow? One of those. An appropriate hot drink for this cold grey January morning. Well hot coco would've been more appropriate but I made an intention this morning that today was going to be a day of health, self care and productivity. How ambitious. New year new me right? New day, new me more like. <div><br /></div><div> Lately, I have been all about gratitude and cherishing and savouring and acknowledging. The good in life. Feeling wholesome, full, warm. Despite the anxiety. Despite doubt, uncertainty, unsent messages, unresolved, unexpressed emotions. Loneliness. Stagnation. Loss. Guilt. Let it take it's place inside you. There's always room for more. For joy, laughter, for quiet evenings and quiet love, dancing with abandon, shower concerts, rambling poetry. For affection. To give. And receive it in abundance. To receive it over and over. There's space for old wounds that bleed fresh every now and then, and there's space for healing. There's space for doing the work and healing yourself and there's space for a little help. In fact all the help you can get. Why not. There's beauty. In feeling whole - with parts missing, broken, hurt. Et al </div><div><br /></div><div> The year for me. Hmm. It was about. Oh it was beautiful. We went to a new years thing the other night (well, on The New years night i.e) and someone asked us what our biggest achievement was for the year. The answer came easy. For me. It was growth. I did some growing up yes i did. I worked, found fulfilment in it. I made friends and i worked hard. And then I quit when leaving wasn't easy. Struggled with self discipline. Worked out. Showed up for myself. Loved feeling my body change even though it wasn't the way I expected it to. Worked out for the joy of it. Wrote poems. Wrote a paper. Managed a household by myself. Made hummus and hot wings and banana bread. A lot of banana bread. Became a mama to a cat. Took time off for mountains and clean air. Got closure handed to me on a plate. I opened myself. I opened boxes inside me that hadn't been looked at in years. Got my hands dirty and sorted that shit out. Some was painful. And gut wrenching. Like when you cry from your chest and your intestines and it just keeps pouring out from God knows where. Your entire body is holding that shit. I don't save that kind of crying for deaths and devastation. It comes to me on a random Wednesday. But I also forgave myself for crying. I asked for love. I asked for safety. And I found it. I let my inner child come out to play. I made effort for change. I kept at it. Particle by particle. Block by block. Mountain by mountain. And I'm happy about where I am. A friend asked me what my new years resolution was. I said. To keep going. And she's like. That's not a resolution. That's something you'll do anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div> But it's not something I'll do anyway. It will take all of me. To keep going. To do things I've set out for myself. Even if it's terrifying. Or seems impossible. To not give up. To keep working on myself. To build relationships. To build myself. To keep making mistakes and then fixing them. Forgiving myself. Over and over. To understand my limits and then push them. And not hate myself every time I fail. To choose to live from a place of abundance and courage. Not scarcity and fear. To be one step closer to the person i aspire to be. And to stay kind. Through all of it. Kinder to myself. Kinder to those around me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Its hard.</div><div><br /></div><div> But it's what I plan on doing. I want to just keep going.</div>The Me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376noreply@blogger.com3