Disgust

Ever find yourself so drastically changed that you could no longer relate to the person you were just last year?

Ever go back on your work and think just that one word, "Eww"?

("Eww" can be substituted out for "No. Just no.")

It is disgusting.

I'm filled with disgust.

Im made of disgust.

Question is, will I take it down or leave it here for the world to see?

Or does this serve as some kind of warning that I no longer am the person that wrote the posts that seem like so many experiences ago?

Eulogy

I've been avoiding writing about this for too long.

Primarily because it means too much to me. It becomes real. Forever.
When I articulate my feelings, there's no hiding from them.

Today I dreamt about you. I've been dreaming about you often, but today hit me hard.

I was 9 years old when you came to us. You were so small you fit in my hand. I remember looking down at you all curled up in my arms thinking I would never love anything more fiercely than I loved you at that moment. I was right. Wisdom of a 9 year old, you really know love at that age right? The fierce, innocent love of a child.

We grew up together. You were so much fun. I loved the way my hair really perplexed you and you'd attack with the ferocity of a very small mouse. Im sorry I drove you crazy with all that scratching on the bed, but it was really funny watching you attempt to dig a whole in the mattress.
You were so brave. Not the intelligent kind of brave. The dumbass kind. I remember chasing after you so many times when you slipped out the gate to go chase cows. You realise that you were only 6 inches off the ground right? Its a miracle you never got stepped on.

I remember teaching you your name was Buzz by being overly cuddly with my stuffed bear calling it Buzz. You were such a jealous type. Couldn't even handle mom hugging me or Ro.

As the years went by and I got busier and had less time to spend with you, you got older and grumpier preferring to stare out of the window on your own or lounge on mom. She was, afterall, your portable sofa cum bed. I still maintained she ruined you. You were so good as a pup and as an adult, then, as you hit old age, she started feeding you off the table and you started begging. How many times did I tell you that was undignified and very unbecoming of your age. You didn't listen, but then again, you never did.

Atleast you learnt to not eat everything as you got older. Not that you were ever messy or immature about it. Though I think that lizard you ate and then almost immediately regurgitated in one piece would beg to differ. But hey, you learnt from your mistakes, that's more than I can say about most people I know.

You were everything to be Buzz, you were my friend when I had none, you were what made me feel loved when I hated myself. You were never too demanding and always waited patiently for me to find a few moments to spend with you. I wish I'd spent more time with you towards the end of it but the truth is I couldn't bear to see you that way. My strong, independant and moronic baby, barely moving. It broke my heart every day.

I was glad when it was over. I hated seeing you like that.

That last day, your last day. I walked into the house from college, already a mess. I knew it was over, our time together was over. I looked at you look at me and I watched as the last light left your eyes, that last flicker of recognition. I know you only held on long enough after that for mom and dad to get home. Im sorry she couldn't be there, but its better she didn't see you like that. It would've hurt her too much.

I still think about how you felt in my arms as they injected the pain away. Im sorry I made you suffer that long, I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to let go. I don't know if you felt it but I held on tight Buzzy, really tight. I held on till you were no longer breathing and for a while after that too. I don't know if you heard me but I kept telling you I loved you, that it was okay you had to go, that you were everything, I thanked you for all the times you'd been there for me when no one else could. I dont know if you felt it but I kissed you again and again till my face was covered with your fur.

Buzz, a little bit of me died with you that day.

I was sitting on the roof with Vikram and Rohin and Vikram said something to me that made that day a little easier. He said, "You know Rhea, Buzz had the perfect life. You got him as a puppy when you were still a kid. You had all the time in the world to spend with him and play with him. When he reached a point where he couldnt play anymore, you had grown up and had other things to do so he was able to contemplate life as all old men should. And now he's gone, but you, your life is just beginning. The way I see it, he left at a perfect time."

Maybe you did. But no time would ever be right to lose someone or something you love.

I was 9 years old when you came to us. I was 21 when you left.

Its been 8 months since you've been gone and not a day goes by without a thought of you but today more than ever I miss the way you'd curl up next to me when I felt like shit and give me the 'don't you dare move me you pain in the ass' look if I tried to readjust. I miss the sound of your feet pitter pattering all over the house at really odd hours and I miss the way your breath smelt like a thousand corpses. I miss saying "Buzzy, kaun aya" and watching you flip shit. I miss taking you on walks and carrying you around, much to your distaste. I miss giving you bones to chew, watching you keep at it for half an hour, going to bury it and forgetting about it. The backyard still has them and I promise you, no one will take them away. I miss how you'd sit at the bottom of the stairs and bark till someone carried you up and the scratching sounds you made at the door when you wanted to be let in only to promptly walk out. I miss how you'd sleep curled up on my bean bag as I pretended study. You kept my secret, you kept all my secrets.

Buzz, you owned this house and every living thing in it.
I love you as much as I did that first day, with the fierce, innocent love of a 9 year old.

Sometimes, I get a good feeling.

Hello world,

I guess this is the format I will follow for a while. I like the idea of someone listening to me. Not that I lack people who listen, I might just have too many of those if there is even such a thing. Once in a while though, even though there are a 100 people I could call I dont, I still feel alone. Sad ain't it?

That was not the point of this particular post.

I just had a relatively amazing day and I want to share it with you, world.

I went to meet my friends at Khan Market after class today and due to some pretty unexpected circumstances, I found myself alone. I consulted with a friend and after a little deliberation took myself up to the rooftop of Market Cafe.

The weather was beautiful. It was the kinda day where you feel like its early morning all day. I was listening to some old music I hadn't heard in a while. I ordered a lemon iced tea with mint, pulled out my ipad and started to read Oscar Wilde who may be one of my favourite authors. It was essentially perfect.

My server was a very sweet, slightly camp fellow. I don't think he had ever seen a girl alone before and he kept coming to check up on me. He told me about the student discount as well and we got talking. He said I looked about 16. My ego swelled up. Its taken quite a bashing in the last few days, I think I might have hit an all time low yesterday. Let me tell you, a random gay fellow telling you that you look 5 years younger than you are, if taken as a compliment, is one of the nicest feelings in the world.

Winter was in the air.
The tunes were right.
My ceasar salad was crisp, cold, perfect.
I felt something I hadn't in so long.
It was an indescribable feeling that one can only really get in their own company.

I looked out at the world, the breeze making my hair dance, a good book in my lap, good music surrounding me, enveloping me and for those few moments, all was well with the world.

Its a moment that doesn't come too often.
Its a feeling worth all the shit life may throw at you.

Today, I feel good world.

Thanks for listening.
Ill be back soon!

Goodnight.

Some Nights

Hello World,
Its been a while.
I feel the need to share. To write. Whats going to come off it will, as usual be a surprise to both of us.

I graduated. Did you hear? It was awful. I don't like change. I loved my life on campus. I loved being a part of something bigger than myself. Well that's done. I miss the life, I do. However, Im older, Im different. I wont be able to live that life again. It was wonderful while it lasted. I will always miss it, look back at it with fondness, and for now, try to retain what I can of it. But, its over. It took me a while to say, but its over.

I turned 21 too. No escaping life now. I have a job, yes, a job. I woke at an online art magazine part time. It can be found at www.thewallartmag.com. Infact, I was published this month. Worst piece of crap Ive ever written. just. WOW. Such shit. But hey, I plan to write here more often and Im hoping the practice will bring me back to where I was.

My baby passed away, my buzz. He was my dog. I grew up with him. I loved him. I feel the void he left behind every single time I walk in to the house. Id always yell out his name earlier, now I do it in my mind. I'd walk in yelling "BUZZ" or ask my maids, "buzzy kahan hai?" Now I just walk in with a sinking heart. Its a shit feeling. I want to write a post dedicated solely to him. I dont think Im ready yet. I feel like that would be it. I would have accepted it. I haven't yet. I still expect to hear the clattering of his much too long nails as he walked about the house. It's a terrible thing to lose something so dear, something you grew up with, nursed, taught, scolded, something that loved  you no matter what, something that was always around, in the background, doing its own thing till you needed it. I lost that two months ago. Im not ready.

I started my masters too, in psychology. Its amazing. I genuinely really enjoy it. I find myself at sea quite often, but I feel like this is where Im supposed to be, or atleast, at any rate, supposed to be doing. Ive found my place. Its nice to want to come home and read something academic. Or just read really, I kinda lost that along the way somewhere in my 3 years of DU.

DU is still messing with me. It started with me not getting my results, then my professor refusing me internals and therefore finding myself with an ER. I hope that shall be sorted soon.

So this is where I stand right now, I have a job, I have a master degree I'm pursuing. What does that leave? My identity.

For the first time in a long time, I know who I am and where I stand with most people. I know who I want to be and how much further I have to go to be there. I spent so much time as a teenager wondering who I was, where I was going. I finally decided, there's no point. Life will take you where it wants, exercise the little control you have, beyond that, there's nothing you can do. Everything changes and things rarely go as planned. Just be prepared to be thrown out of your comfort zone, expect the unexpected and take it as it comes. Sometimes you'll find that you cant cope up. Take a deep breath, remember it could be worse and remember that you HAVE to cope up. Then, break down, cry, throw things and give up for a day. You'll find tomorrow's a lot easier if not better.

All this being said, any sane human being would see that I am exhausted. But it is a wonderful kind of productive exhaustion that I have missed. I'm not going to lie, some days juggling all this and attempting to have some semblance of a social life or trying to keep up with relationships does get the best of me and  travelling 4 hours a day in a car or metro doesn't help in anyway and is a downright waste of time. Somedays I dont think I can do it anymore and I just want to crawl under a rock and sleep my life away. Other days I just want to give up and just let everything go.However, I still am happier all around than I think I could've been in any other situation.

Sure, there are some things I'd like to fix, may be a second shot. There are alot of things I'd redo a bit differently. For sure there are things Id like to change to be able to do and be everything I want to do and be. I'm still messy and disorganized, I'd still rather be sleeping and Im still always late.
All in all though, I'd like to say, Im content, even happy some days.

All in all though, Im getting there, Im fine.

Thank you for listening world.
I'll be back soon.

Goodnight.

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.