All Growd Up

When do you really grow up?
When are you no longer a child?
When did I cross over that liminal space of "Not a girl, not yet a Woman"
Was it when I turned 16? 18? When I got my licence? When I started College?
Or was it when I moved on campus and had to, for all intents and purposes, live on my own?
I believe it was the day I found myself advising my Parents on this wonderful, albeit painful, journey we call Life.

This came up today in conversation with the ever inspiring Ambika Singh, aka, Potato.
We bonded over how we had to Bring up our parents.
It went beautifully with the "High School Never Ends" discussion.

Ive noticed this over the past two years maybe. I mean, aside from the questions I get asked about "The Facebook" and other baffling phenomenon on the ever confusing computer or cell phone, and the questions about current slang and chat speak*, I am also questioned about serious things. Let me paint you a picture: One half of the parental unit gets stumped on how to deal with a social situation and approaches me, the offspring. I listen, call upon my 20 years of experience and wisdom, and deliver a heart wrenching, inspiring monologue sprinkled with good advice. The concerned half of the parental unit looks at me in shock and proceeds to take this advice, which then in turn renders me absolutely baffled. There is always, this exchange of surprised looks. From the parent it generally says, "When did you grow up? Only yesterday I was trying  to get you to quit sucking your thumb." My response, "Where in the hell did THAT come from? This is too fast for me, I want a bouncy castle and cotton candy!"

Somewhere between 16 and now, I grew up.
Somewhere between asking for advice and ignoring it, I started advising.
Somewhere between asking questions and demanding answers, I found myself answering.

Now, I'm the type of person who runs from growing up, my mother will testify to this. I hate the idea of not being a child, or being responsible. I want to be silly and ridiculous and have people look out for me. I want to jump about in a bouncy castle and ride that stupid choo-choo train I don't fit into anymore.
Needless to say, I was not happy with this discovery. Add graduation to that and you have a very distraught me.

The other day I found myself advising my parents on parenting.
I don't advocate this. It is a bad idea. They've managed fine till now without you telling them how to deal with you. Don't start now.
However, this situation did warrant a friendly word or 500 on the subject.
By the end of the conversation, I found myself exhausted, emotionally and surprisingly, physically. The only physical movement I had made whilst discussing said topic was holding the phone to my ear and swapping ears. I might have possibly switched seating positions once or twice but nothing more. Yet, I was exhausted. And from what I hear, once you take this job, there really is no quitting, no going back. Its a life time appointment, what the modernists call a "no exit" situation.
I'm going to take this moment to say Kudos to the Parental Unit. Trying to sort out just one situation almost got the best of me. You have brought up both me and my brother reasonably well with minimal to no damage. You have dealt with such situations on a daily basis and made it through and are still sane. You are my inspiration. Some day, I hope to have brought up relatively damage-less children.

However, until then, I shall practise on you.

Bringing up the parents.

I hear trial and error is the only way to go about it.

*Once I was asked what ":)" was. On another similar note, old people, LOL does NOT mean Lots of Love when we say it. It means LAUGHING OUT LOUD. Though chances are, the person who said it isn't. Laughing out Loud that is.

Useless Self Indulgence.

Clearly, structure and adhering to deadlines is not my strong point. I guess it doesn't help that I set them for myself. No punishment if I don't comply.

Useless.
That's what Id describe myself as.

If you are expecting purpose from this post I'm going to stop you right there. Do not. If you still do, I appeal to you to quit reading this now and move on to the next post. This is me being self indulgent.

I wanted to write something, anything. Just because I could. Just because they've always told me I could. Yet, as I sit here, yearning to share, to explore, to relate... I cant. There a block, a wall if you will. I do not know how to get around it. I do not know how to find that inspiration that used to strike so easily. I never had to go looking for it. It was always there, triggered by a word in conversation, lyrics to a song, a friends smile.
I now find myself struggling.

The only reason, I believe, this is happening is because life itself no longer has a purpose for me. In school, when my ability to write was at its zenith, there was purpose, something to look forward. I was happy, I was growing up.

What changed? I'm still growing! I'm still happy sometimes, even if it is rarer than it used to be.
I am aware of a void, a lack of purpose.
Why should that exist?
I found a goal, a purpose.
I have a plan. An academic plan, a career plan.

Yet, this void exists. A dissatisfaction.
The logical conclusion would be that I have reached that point where I begin to ask questions like "Who am I?" and "Why am I here?", all following some existential strain. I haven't begun to question, nor do I desire to.
I know many who would direct me to spiritual texts and different faiths.
Yet, in the moment I may be intrigued, but 20 minutes later, I don't want to know.
I know who I am. I don't know why I am here but I don't think it really matters, not right now. I don't care if my life is ruled by destiny or a series of coincidences that were my choice, free will. To conclude, I don't believe this is an existential crisis.

Yet, it shows all symptoms of one.

Look, a post, a piece of writing! I guess I did manage to succeed halfway. I say halfway because I am in no way satisfied with it. All I have done is attempted to explain a void, one I don't understand, one I want to fill and lament the lack of inspiration.

Like I said initially, Useless.

What's this? TWO posts in one day?!

So Ive decided to post atleast once a week.
I don't know about what.
If you have been reading whatever I've already posted, or you know me and found this by mistake, you'd know that I am CONVINCED I've lost my ability to write.
I have mother!
So this is my attempt to find those lost words and "turn of phrase"'s that used to flow out of me like a.. a..
See what I mean?

Anyway, Im hoping putting this up here for the 3 people who read this will motivate me to post. I feel like some kind of regime might be good for me.

Also, Ambika made me do the MMPI. Questionnaires like that always make me question myself and my character. The last few questions pertained to laziness and self motivation. I had to do SOMETHING productive.

This is productive.
So there.
I showed you, didn't I you stupid MMPI.
And as long as I've got you, why on earth would you want to know if I enjoy fixing door latches? Also, could you get more obvious with the questions about suicide? Depressed people don't know they are depressed! and they don't like to admit it if they do!

Ill attempt to be back with something worth reading in a few days.

Hopefully.

Even I can't get myself to believe this.

That Night

It started with a feeling, just an inkling. You felt it and you reached out for me. I saw it in your eyes and I knew it was here. Then it hit me, I felt it.
I held you close protecting you, rocking you to sleep, hiding you from it. I felt it searching for a way to you, a path, a hole, a gap in my protection. It wanted to get to you. It had to go through me.
All my defences, all my energy was directed at you. You were invisible to it, I was all too vulnerable.
For the first time, it infiltrated me.
I covered you, who was now gently snoring, at peace because you knew I was there. I, satisfied that you were safe, now turned and walked away to battle that which was within me. A battle I had put off for 14 years.
It was time.
So it began. I surrounded myself with my weapons, all the positivity I had in the world, my friends, my strengths. I faced it.
It rushed, I stopped.
It twisted, I undid.
I can do this.
It screamed, I was silent.
It attacked, I defended.
I need to do this.
It pushed, I pulled.
It stretched, I compressed.
I was stronger than this. I will always be stronger than this.
It won, I lost.
It lost, I won.
Conviction.
It faded away, it gave up.
I was a rock. A mountain.
You were still asleep, unaware that I was fighting my battle and yours. Unaware that you were the only reason I was strong.
I changed that night. I no longer fear.
I will protect. I will fight.
For you, I will.

Note: Take it as you will.

"There's No Place Like Home."

Note: I found this short piece in my diary from a few months ago, thought its sounded good and would please my mother who is my most loyal and probably only reader. This ones for you mom, you make "Home" what it is.

It was a cold winter morning, I walked in to the house shivering at 10 am.
I had been out all night.
Awake, through the night.
I dragged my exhausted frame up the stairs and crawled into bed.
I curled up under the covers inhaling the sweet smell of the detergent my mother used to wash the comforter with. It smelt like home.
I closed my eyes.
Two rooms away my father was singing "Rasputin" as he pottered about, tinkering with his model railroads or fixing his helicopters.
I heard my dog Buzz run from one room to the other as my mother sneezed as loudly as was humanely possible.
Upstairs my brother was strumming his guitar.
I sighed. content.
I smile.
I'm Home.

A Moonlit Walk with Buzz Lightyear of Star Command

This is not the Buzz Lightyear of Star Command you all know. This is my buzz, the daschund. I swear that's his name. You can check the birth certificate Rohin and I made for him when we got him about 11 years ago. Let me paint you a picture: hes black with a tan nose and feet. His claws are humongous and his teeth, a not very attractive yellow. He smells as pretty as a dog can, but his breath could put the kraken to shame. He walks about with the air of one who owns whatever his aura touches. You can try calling him to come over to you, he will not dignify you with more than a look in your general direction that says, "Yeah. Right." He has the grace to look embarrassed and confused when he farts and audacity to walk away from you when you are on your knees grovelling for his attention. He is the quintessential dignified old man one would not want to cross and dare not patronise. Try making coochie coo sounds at him. Go on. I dare you.
Anyway, I had the pleasure of taking this incredible, albeit useless, creature for his evening walk. His walks generally consist of someone hooking on the leash so he will walk out of the house(he never leaves without it on) and unhooks it as soon as they step out of the gate. He is then allowed to run free about the clearing adjacent to the house for about 5 minutes. Not today though. Today, I would walk him around the park. I think he sensed this because he was very excited. More than usual. Not that I blame him. He's been sniffing at the same blades of grass and car tyres for a while. He needed a change.
So we set off, going from one side of the road to the other. For all intents and purposes we were following the path of an absurdly large drunken snake. You could sense his excitement.. all these new smells! Oh my. You could see the sparks flying from his eyes..
We zigzagged across the road till we came to a hill about two feet high. Considering buzz is about 8 inches tall, this mound of earth was to him, a challenge. HE climbed it repeatedly, slipping off just as he reached the top. When he finally made it he turned his ass around so he wasn't facing me and took what seemed like a healthy and satisfying dump. He looked confused and slightly annoyed at the sound of his poop hitting the hill and slowly rolling off it. I dodged.
We walked on and he revelled in the aroma of new tyres. We jaunted along, him lost in the Ecstasy of new scents, and I, lost in various deep thoughts that at the time seemed life changing. It was a calm moment, both of us existing in our own worlds in our own heads when suddenly disaster struck in the form of an absurdly large indistinguishable fruit falling from the tree. Buzz jumped back, petrified, tail between his legs. he gave the fallen fruit a wide berth only to spy a cow coming out of the shrubs. This miniature genius went into full on attack mode, barking and pulling on his leash with all 3.5 kgs of his weight. Talk about misplaced sense of fear.
Barring this one explosive incident, the walk was largely uneventful. We strolled back towards the house, buzz picking up his pace as we got closer. He bolted in the gate, waited for me to take of his leash and jaunted into the house, his tail standing erect, his body wagging side to side with pride. He stepped into the kitchen and promptly collapsed on the floor with a sigh of contentment and was snoring not a minute later.
Needless to say, it was a good walk.

Potato

Height of self obsession: I stalked myself on facebook.
there were two conclusions I came to aside from the obvious, "I'm a narcissist".
One being that I'm never gonna be as scrawny as I was in school and that's okay.

The other was that somethings are meant to last forever, and while 8 years may not be forever, its two years short of half my lifetime. Seems as close to forever as Id like to get.
This post is not going to be some brilliant piece of writing. This one, its just for you. I know its going to be relatively useless because to actually explain what I am feeling seems like an impossible task. One of the reasons I'm writing this is because I want to be able to come back to this moment and feel like I did something about it. I want to be able to look back 8 more years further down the line and think, "Yeah, I knew what I was talking about, I knew what I felt was right". Sometimes you just know right?

If only I could show you the smile on my face.
I haven't checked in the mirror yet, but I'm pretty sure my eyes are all sparkly.

Yet, I know that when you read this, you will know EXACTLY what I am talking about.

8 years Pots. Give or take a few months of silence.
8 years.

And look at what we have to show for it.

Words escape me, as usual. Man, I really need to find those words. :/
So I'm just going to copy paste what I found on one of our old pictures yea?

"A hundred smiles. a thousand laughs. lots of wiped up tears. surrendered thoughts. confidence in strength. a little jealousy. a pinch of contempt. a dash of irrational joy. =)
a crystal vase, still intact. shards of a broken heart, put back together. hugs and dances. friends and family. insanity. insecurity. saving a fish. saving a life. popatoe. backstreet boys and blink 182. music and lyrics. oranges and sunshine. nani chai and the perfect hug. flowers and vodka. just boys. bumps and bruises. a few more moments. tingly and dieing. soul mates and best friends. potato and butterfly. forever and for always."

So incredibly gay.
but like I said, I'm feeling it.

So dance with me, like we did before the dresses, the shoes, the makeup, the boys and the drama. Dance with me, like we did when we were spinning in circles with the moon in our eyes.

Lets sing to the wind as we dance through the night..

I love you.

Addendum: I am just incredibly attached to this friend of mine. Im not gay. Just Saying. Mother, that's for you.