New Year resolutions

Not that I believe in New Year resolutions, but there are a few things that I wish to achieve next year and I guess now is as good a time as any to resolve to carry out what I hope to achieve. Besides, putting something down in writing always seemed to me that things were then serious, not just some random thought in my head but something firmly cast in stone (cyberspace) and then I will actually have to take it seriously and evaluate my success or failure at the end of next year.

Anyway, my resolutions in no particular order:

1.   Lose 5 kgs - by eating responsibly, more exercise, reduce bad habits

2.   Visit 3 countries

3.   Read 100 books

4.   Run a half marathon

5.   Less tv, less procrastination, more activities

Happy New Year!

He loves me, he loves me not

Have you ever loved someone so much that you were willing to do just about anything to see them happy? Like give up everything for them, or die for them, or the worst of all, to let them go.

I only ever loved 2 people like that. And both relationships did not work out, through no fault of my own. So now I am thinking, could it be that they did not reciprocate the level of devotion, sacrifice and love that I was willing to show to them?

Some of my friends are of the view that if they will not sacrifice their happiness for mine, it means that they just did not love me enough. Personally, I can agree with that because I know I am capable of giving (or giving up) everything for someone else's happiness, even if it means compromising my own happiness. But a close friend of mine keeps reminding me that the world is not black and white, it's 50 shades of grey (pun intended) and just because I think in a certain way does not mean that other people think the same way I do.

Assuming for one minute that my friend is right - that they just did not love me enough - what this means is that I was never good enough for anyone to love me to the extent that he will do anything to see me happy. And that is just sad.

Of pianos and perspectives

My younger brother had re-arranged the furniture in the house. Because of that, the piano was readily accessible and no longer used as a storage item. One evening when I was alone at home, I decided to play the piano. My piano. And it broke my heart to learn that I had forgotten how to play the piano.

I hadn’t properly played the piano in close to 15 years now, ever since I left home to study and then to work. I didn’t take the piano with me because I don’t have a permanent address as yet. My fingers were rusty, the notes looked foreign and it was a struggle for me to get through one damn song!

And that got me thinking about how everything is a matter of perspectives. The piano was a big part of my life growing up. I had lessons once a week, so I had to practice almost every day. I remember the numerous excuses I used to give my poor piano teachers; I was the kid who was most prone to getting cuts, blisters, etc on her fingers!

I remember failing my Grade 7 exam when I was 16 and then giving up on piano for a while. I remember when I was doing Form 6 I decided that I had to finish Grade 8 otherwise I may never get the chance again. I remember practicing everyday for 6 months for my Grade 8 exams, on top of studying Form 6, and passing my exams. That taught me that I could accomplish anything if I really put my mind to it.

But yes, perspectives. Once upon a time, the piano was a big part of my life. Now it’s all but forgotten. Once upon a time the things that mattered to me, now seem so silly because there are bigger things to worry about in life. And I’m sure in 20 years’ time the things that matter to me now will not matter anymore because I would be facing even bigger challenges.

It’s all a matter of perspectives, and yet, when you’re 16, you cannot fathom what kind of problems you will have to face in the future, so that you think the problems you are facing at that point in time is the greatest obstacle in your path. But to a 16 year old girl, being there at that time, facing the things she had to face, was the biggest challenge in her life at that time.  

I guess the moral of the story is that everything and everyone changes. Nothing lasts forever. Even problems don’t last forever, however difficult or hopeless it may seem at any given time. I sound like a hypocrite I know. But I’ve always been a good preacher, and I almost never practice what I preach so what the heck.

Anyway, I haven’t given up on my piano yet. When I finally (if ever!) get a permanent address, I am moving my piano over and then me and piano are going to spend some quality time getting to know each other again. It’s a matter of time before we make music together again.

I'm still here

If it hasn't already occurred to you by now, it is quite apparent that I only write when I'm sad or angry. I haven't written for close to 6 weeks now. A good thing, right?

I guess. It's not as if all my problems have just suddenly evaporated into thin air. It's that I've become quite good at ignoring problems. Sweep, sweep, sweep everything under the carpet. In case you hadn't noticed, there's a pile of shit as big as an elephant hidden under the carpet but hey, as long as I don't see it, it's all good! 

Karma

I believe in karma. I don’t know if it works, but I believe in it. Call it an irrational thought process or a leap of faith or whatever. My biggest problem with karma is that it transcends lifetimes; so if someone does something bad today, he may only pay for it in his next lifetime. Or if something bad happens to someone today, it may be his past karma paying a visit as a result of something bad he did in his previous lifetime.

My problem is this. I need instant gratification. Which means that if someone does something bad to me today, I need to see that person pay for his bad deed in the next 24 hours. Ok, I can probably wait a little longer than that. But definitely in this lifetime, and I want to be there to watch him suffer the consequences of his actions. No, I am not a sadist. He created his own misery when he decided to do something bad.

After all, in nearly all legal systems in the world, a criminal who is caught generally gets punished for his crimes in his lifetime. Why can’t karma work the same way?

Seeing bad people flourish in life makes me think that the bad guys always win, and the good guys always finish last. That being the case, there’s nothing to stop me from being bad I guess. Except my conscience. And karma, which I believe in. It’s a vicious cycle I tell you!

Fire, fire, burning bright

There was a fire near the office yesterday. Not that I'm a busybody (or maybe I am), I went to watch the commotion. I've never seen a building on fire before, and it was quite a sight to behold. I can almost understand why some people are attracted to fire. There is something rivetting, spellbinding, dangerously attractive about fires. You almost wonder how something so bright and lustrious can at the same time be so destructive.

The heroes of the day were undoubtedly the firemen. They are really not appreciated enough, our fire and rescue personnel. In a culture that is ripe with corruption, it occurs to me that by and large, the fire and rescue department (I'm sure there are exceptions) is probably the only department that is not motivated by monetary rewards to do their jobs. And for that, I respect, salute and thank them.

I am angry

I have a few things to say to you:

 

(1)    The world does not revolve around you.

 

(2)    Nobody died and made you God.

 

(3)    Having one worshipper does not make you God.

 

(4)    Bullying people into compliance by threatening suicide does not make you powerful; it is pitiful. Suicide is not a game. It is not the sword of Damocles.

 

(5)    You are not right all the time. You do not have all the answers. People can have different opinions, it does not mean they are right and you are wrong, or that they are wrong and you are right. Sometimes it is what it is. Different opinions. Agree to disagree.

 

(6)    Depression CAN be overcome naturally without medication. Not in all cases, but in some cases, it can. I should know.

 

(7)    Grow up already!

 

(8)    Respect should be earned, it is not a birth right. You have done nothing to earn my respect, and now I have lost what little respect I had for you.

 

(9)      You are not suicidal, you are an egomaniac. Go get treated for that.

 

(10)  You have no idea who I am. And now you never will. It's your loss.

 

Life is good

Life is good. It's not great, it could be better, but right now, life is good. And good is good. Haven't had a morbid thought for quite some time now which I perceive as an improvement. I'm not happy, but I'm not sad either. Which suits me just fine.

Running

There’s something exquisite, almost magical about running in the outdoors, with the wind on your face, with the birds chirping away, with music in your ears (from an I-pod which is not natural I know, but still!) and with nothing in front of you, just a path waiting to be trodden on. It reminds me of days long gone, of better days, of carefree days, days of innocence and wholesomeness and goodness. Before the villain called ‘reality’ entered into my life. Maybe I like running because it feels as if I’m running away from the villain, even if it’s only for a little while.

 

 

It almost makes life worth living. Almost.

The past still haunts me

All he wanted was a hug goodbye. And I refused. I didn't know I was capable of being so cold. So cruel. Must be all the anger, frustration, sadness and hopelessness that I've been sweeping under the carpet these past few months. Him walking away so forlornly was such a heart-wrenching scene that it broke my heart. He didn't know that after he left, I immediately regretted not hugging him goodbye. He didn't know that after he left, I burst into tears reminiscing about what could've been, what should've been.

He doesn't know that after all this time, I still love him. I always will.

Ramblings

Whoever said suicide is a coward's way out obviously does not know what he's talking about. I don't care what amount of psychologi​cal nonsense he has studied, he just doesn't know what he's talking about. It's not easy to come to the conclusion that your life is not worth living anymore. It's not easy to say goodbye to the things you like or love. No matter how depressed you are, it's not easy to make the decision to take your own life.

And even when you're about to do it, there is a part of you that tries to talk you out of it, that says but you haven't done this and you haven't done that, that you always wanted to see the Great Wall of China, that you always wanted a German Shepherd named George, that you may or may not want a child, that whatever, and if you die now you will regret not doing all these things that you dreamed of in your life.

And then there is the other part of you which tells you that even if you have all of these things you will not really be happy. Because you can never really be happy. You think it's an easy choice? You think it's a coward's way out? I think psychology is written by those on the outside looking in i.e. those who have never experience​d real helplessne​ss telling people who have given up that they are cowards.

I, for one, think otherwise. I think cowards are those who live life for the sake of living it, because they have no balls to change the way things are. And by change I mean if you can't change the world, and you really can't, then change the way you are. And if you don't like the way you are, and you can't do anything about it, then just cease to exist. And who the fuck is anyone to tell me that I'm a coward for choosing to cease to exist? At least i'm brave enough to do something to cease the sadness. Granted, I don't know if I'll be happy, but at least I know I will be sad no more. And that is not a coward's way out. That is taking charge  of your life.

Because when it comes to your life, YOU are the expert, not some psychiatri​st or
psychologi​st or therapist who think they know you in all of 2 minutes. It took you 34 years to figure yourself out. You are the expert. I am the expert. I decide. I choose life or death. No one can stop me. No one ever could. Only I can stop myself. And if I choose not to, that's my choice and my choice alone, made after years of deliberati​on.

So don't you dare tell me it's a coward's way out. I may be a lot of things, but I'm certainly not a coward. I never back down. If I do, it's because I choose to, after thinking about it for 34 years. Go write another theory on psychology​, because I'm not another footnote. I am real. This is real. Suicide does not equal cowardice. Suicide is a choice. Suicide is empowermen​t. Suicide is taking your life into your own hands. Suicide is coming to the conclusion that your life is just not worth it. That someone who is seemingly less advantaged compared to you, for example someone who is homeless, someone who is born without limbs, someone who does not have food to eat, someone who is born in a war torn country, is still better than you.

When you actually feel like that, what's the point of living? You may as well give way to the 'brave' people who think that they really want to live. Besides, everyone dies anyway, right? So why am I still here? Good question. It's certainly not hope, I've lost all hope. It's because I'm just not ready to go yet. But it's getting close. Some day, sooner or later, I will die on my own terms. Most of the time life wins. Sometimes you just have to win. Not because you are a coward. But because you're just tired of losing. And if you still think that that's a coward's way out, so be it. If it makes you happy so be it. This decision, this choice, makes ME happy. And that makes all the difference.

No one

In the end, you only have yourself to rely on. Not family, for they can only do so much. Not friends, although they will tell you they will be there for you (I'm sure they mean well but it's all lies, no one will really ever be there for you). Not God, if he even exists. So in the end you only have yourself. And if you have let yourself down, then really you have no one. A non-entity. An invisible being. That's what I am.

It's not that easy

And so it goes on. Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. And nothing changes. Everything remains the same. This sadness, misery, hopelessness just goes on with each passing minute.

I'm barely hanging on, and everyday I ask myself what the hell am I even hanging on for? You see, I never asked for any of this. I never asked for this life. People say I should be grateful for what I have. There are people in this world born into a broken home, or born without limbs, or born without eyesight, etc. And yet they make the best out of the situation.

The problem with being normal is, you will inevitably have expectations, ambitions, hopes and dreams for yourself. It's  normal. And when you fail to achieve any of those expectations, ambitions, hopes and dreams, you ask yourself how are you any better than someone less fortunate than you are? You're even worse than them because with all their shortcomings, they still managed to make the best out of the situation. They still managed to be happy.

So what am I supposed to be grateful for? I never asked for any of this. I never asked to be born in the first place.

No title

Someone told me last Friday that there is no purpose in life. That life just is. We have to make the best out of it, take one day at a time, make life interesting or worth living, and then you die.

I always thought that everything happens for a reason. Which means that I was born for a reason. But maybe that's not true at all. Maybe there is no purpose in life. Maybe I'm just here to fill some quota before the next big thing happens, whatever that may be.

If that is true, it is a sad world indeed and I really don't know what I'm doing here. If I was really courageous, if I had any ounce of dignity (knowing that I'm nothing) I would end it here and now.

But alas, I am not. I will wait patiently for my time. Until my designated departure time or sooner if this bloody life will permit me.

Sometimes thinking is no good

An idle mind is really the devil's workshop. But I can't help it, I think all the time. From the moment I'm awake till the minute I fall asleep, if I have nothing to do, I think. About everything and nothing. It's quite bad because I can be thinking even when I'm having a conversation with someone, or while driving, or while exercising.

And I also can't help it that I'm so negative. I tried to be positive about life in general but there's nothing positive to think about. I can't change the world. I can't do what I really want to do, because I've all these responsibilities and obligations.

I tried to keep myself busy so that I won't have to think, but like I said, I can think even when I'm doing other things. And I think negative thoughts all the time. Self destructive thoughts like what can I do to torture myself today. Every time I'm sad I go into this self destructive phase and this time I'm trying really hard not to go down that path but it's so so difficult, when all I think about is that.

And then there are temptations everywhere. Oscar Wilde said, the only way to fight temptation is to yield to it. I agree. But what if it destroys me? Ok let's not be over dramatic. It will not destroy me, I'll still live, but it will destroy my self esteem because it's really not me, it's not who I am.

But then again, I don't have much of a self esteem to begin with.

See what I mean? I have to stop thinking!

Question

"...They say that the world was built for two
Only worth living if somebody
Is loving you..."

Lana Del Rey, Video Games

So what happens if no one loves you?

How do you forgive yourself?

I don't know which is worse, letting myself down or letting my parents down.

Some 3, maybe 4 years ago, my mother bought me a set of dishes, pots and pans to be brought into my new house when I started my new life as someone's wife. My mother also took a jade stone belonging to my grandmother and set it into a necklace to be worn with my wedding saree on my wedding day.

That was when she thought I was going to get married. That was when I thought I was going to get married. Now I will never use those two things my mother got for me,  acquired out of nothing but love for her only daughter.

I have broken her heart. I will never be able to forgive myself for that.

Letter to God

Dear God,

I have always believed in you. Well, except for the time when I questioned what was taught to me as a matter of course and duty, and started on a quest to try and determine what I believed and what I didn't. During that period I lost you temporarily but when I found you again I never looked back since.

I believe you do everything for a reason. There are times I never understood why something happened or why something didn't happen, perhaps I never will. But I've always believed that you had your reasons, and it had to be all good in the end.

There have been times when I lost my path and descended upon dangerous and destructive roads,  but in the end it was you who always pulled me out of the darkness and set me on the right path again. In your mysterious and cryptic ways you have always given me your hand to hold, even when I ignored you, even when I didn't ask for your help.

So what I don't understand is, why you are ignoring me this time around. Is it that you think I'm no longer worth your time? Someone once told me that you will never give me a challenge that I will not be able to handle. I am now faced with a challenge that I cannot handle. For the first time in my life, I do not know what to do. I've always been a fixer, if there's a problem I fix it. But now I have a problem that I cannot fix and I do not know what to do.

You may think that I'm strong, but underneath it all I'm just a girl. A human being, a mere mortal. I have limits. I have dreams. Just like everyone else.

I've asked you for help, something which I rarely do because I like doing most things on my own and I really don't want to trouble you when you have the weight of the universe on your shoulders. But I really cannot handle this on my own.

Now when I need you the most, you have left me. Or maybe you're still there but I cannot see or hear you. I'm losing the plot. I need you to tell me that there's a reason for my existence in this world. You're the only one who can tell me that. You're the only one who can cure me. You're the only one who can heal me. You're the only one who can save me.

And yet, all I hear is silence.

Is that my answer?

Love always,
Sheila

When a dream is not a dream

It's almost as if you're living in a dream or a parallel universe. It doesn't seem real, you perform your normal role and functions but it's as if you're on the outside looking at your normal self. And you tell yourself that the dream is not real, that the person outside the normalcy is the real you, and the real you is trapped somewhere while your doppelganger has assumed your identity and is pretending to be the real you.

At some level you know all of this is not true, that the person living your life is the real you, and the person outside looking in is not real, perhaps your subconscious or your imagination.

Confusing? Welcome to my world.

The end

This is the end as I know it. I've finally fallen into an abyss so deep no one can help me out this time around. I don't think even I can get out of this one this time. Or maybe I don't want to. I've become so accustomed to deep dark desolate places that I feel quite at home here actually.

I've tried. I really have. I've tried to live like a normal person in the real world. I tried to have friends, to socialize, to have hobbies, to do normal things. None of these give me any satisfaction anymore, none of these make me happy anymore.

Over the years I've dug an abyss where I can retreat to whenever the world is cruel to me, or whenever I feel I am not good enough for the world, which is almost everyday. I didn't realize every time I hid in my own little abyss, it kept getting deeper and deeper.

And now it's so deep that no one can ever find me. No one ever will. I will make sure of that. I will hide here in the comfort and familiarity of my own deep dark secret world and watch patiently as the world goes by, until the end.

Decisions, decisions

I have made a decision that will change the course of my life forever. It is devastating but at the same time, strangely liberating. I have decided to let go the burden that I was carrying around for so long and now I feel lighter, but because that burden was carried for so long it became a part of me and it's always difficult to say goodbye to familiarity. This is just like the Bhagavad Gita except Krishnan was giving things up to achieve a higher purpose, I'm giving up for purely personal, perhaps selfish,  reasons.

When the world gives you no reason to live, you have to do whatever it takes to make life tolerable until you die. And that's what I did, for better or for worse.  Perhaps it's selfish, but I call it self-preservation.

Question

Life has never been good to me. Today I find myself asking a question that has been asked by many without a satisfactory answer - why do bad things happen to good people?

All in all I think I'm a good person, within the boundaries of human limitations of course. Never mind the stupid things I did when I was young, it was done in the heat of the moment without much thought of the repercussions, whether in this life or the next. Compared to the evil that is taking place in the world today, my minor transgressions are next to nothing. If anything, I did more harm to myself than to anyone else.

So what I don't understand is, why is life so bad to me? Everyone deserves happiness, but that is the one thing that has eluded me all my life. And if I cannot be happy, what's to stop me from doing bad things now? Things that I strive so hard to avoid, deluding myself that there must be a reason for being good, when nothing good ever happens?

If there is a God, and if he's reading this on His break from saving the world, YOU WIN! I give up! Go save some bad person because obviously he's worth saving and I'm not.

My life

Imagine a place so dark you can't see anything. Not an iota of light. You don't know whether to stay where you are or take a step in any direction, because you don't know what's out there. You could be standing at the edge of a cliff and your next step could be your last. The problem is you can't see anything. So you just stand where you are, in the deafening silence, in the blinding darkness, waiting. Forever waiting. You don't know when this will end. So you just wait. It's all you can do. Imagine yourself just waiting at the same place, all alone, in the dark, in silence, for decades.

This is what my life is.

Today I bury a dream

Today I bury a dream.

A dream that was forged on the fringe of adolescence, when the world was a happier place. A dream that was filled with idealism, hope, aspiration, ambition, blissful ignorance, innocence, and love. Lots of love.

A dream that I now know is incapable of being fulfilled. A lost dream. A dream that was a part of me for so long that it is almost as if I’m saying goodbye to an endearing and familiar friend. A dream that was entrenched in my heart for so long that I almost cannot accept that it remains unfulfilled.

And now it will be a dream that will forever remind me of my failings because it never came true. Because I did not make it come true. The dream has died.

Today I bury a dream. It used to be my dream. And now it’s gone forever.

People say I think too much

Is it possible to like contradictory or conflicting things? For eg, is it possible for someone to like smoking (which all experts agree (for once!) is bad for health), but at the same time like exercising (which all experts agree is good for health)? It seems to me that it is almost impossible for someone to like things which are diametrically opposed.

Life and death. Is it possible to like both? There are aspects of my life which I like, which makes living almost worth while sometimes. But there is always a certain sense of melancholy, brooding, some perpetual dark cloud hanging over my life that sometimes makes me think that I am better off dead. Death is not something I am averse to. Sometimes I am drawn to death. Just like I am drawn to the sun, or flowers in bloom, and all else representing life.

I suppose it's ok to like things that are at the opposite side of the spectrum, so long as I am not made to choose.

Choose your battles

I used to be a person who will fight for everything, nothing was ever too small for me, everything was worth fighting for. Of course, having a temper didn't really help.

But now that I'm older, I find more and more that I choose my battles. There are some things still worth fighting for, but most things I find are just not worth my time. There are many other things that I'd rather be doing with my time than fighting for things that frankly wouldn't make a difference in my life one way or another. Maybe I've lost my youthful energy in my old age, or maybe I look at things differently now that I'm older, or maybe I've become wiser (I like to think this is what it is!)

I used to think that walking away from a fight is a sign of weakness. That I'm backing down, admitting defeat. But Jesus Christ and Buddha were both right. Turning the other cheek and choosing peace sometimes gives you more strength than fighting with someone, especially if the person you're fighting with is just not worth it. In which case, there's just no point in proving your point, no matter how strongly you may feel about something.

And besides, what you think is right may be wrong. As a friend told me a long time ago, it's not always black and white, but various shades of grey. I don't think it's only grey, but a myriad of colors. And that is what makes life interesting. Sometimes.

History keeps on repeating

They say history always repeats itself. Empires emerge only to be brought down, or fall, often at the hands of another rising empire, leaving only remnants of past glories that once captivated the civilizations of yore.

The same is true on a micro or individual level, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. You fall in love, and suddenly all is good in the world, everything is beautiful, the sun never shone so brightly, all your enemies are forgiven, nothing can possibly go wrong.

And then you part, and everything that was ever good in the world takes on an evil, sinister, diabolical aspect, your heart is broken into millions of pieces and you think you will never ever fall in love again.

But history always repeats itself. Given sufficient time, your heart will mend, slowly heal, and one day when you least expect it, you find yourself falling in love again. And knowing history, this too may end in disaster.

So what do you do? Make a conscious effort not to fall in love? Stay away from all things carnal such as feelings and emotions, live your life like the Buddha and renounce all worldly desires? That’s one path of course. But being the mere ordinary mortal that I am, chances are I will give in to feelings.

After all, if falling in love makes me happy, positive and see the beautiful things in life, why not? Even if it doesn’t last forever, why not? At least I can die knowing that I’ve experienced happiness. And going through difficult periods in your life, to the point when you think there is nothing else worth living for, makes the pleasure of falling in love that much more worthwhile and meaningful.

As the poet William Blake postulated in Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience, only when you have experienced sadness can you truly appreciate joy and happiness. Or if you prefer, as Aerosmith sang in Dream On, “you gotta lose to know how to win.”

I couldn't believe my eyes

Watching the violence that took place at the Bersih 3.0 rally, one would have thought such things only happened in volatile countries like Afghanistan, Iraq, Sierra Leone, Sudan etc. Have we really descended into such a state of anarchy? I don’t even recognize my own country anymore! How can I ever respect a policeman ever again?

It's complicated

Whatever happened to old-fashioned romances – boy meets girl, they fall in love, get married, have children, and live happily ever after. Or divorce. Whatever the ending is, the journey is as old as time, and there’s a certain comfort in the familiarity of romance.

I don’t know why life cannot be simple. There was a time when I was in love with someone right in front of me, but for whatever reason we couldn’t be together. And then I love someone and we can be together, but he is so far away physically. Nothing is ever easy in life. Maybe it’s just that I keep falling in love with the wrong people. Or the right people at the wrong time. Or the right people in wrong situations. But the fact of the matter is, you can’t choose who you fall in love with. Love just happens. 

And they all wonder why I’m depressed.

Work-life balance - myth or reality?

I didn’t really want to work. I liked my university days. Not just because there were still next to no responsibilities, but I really liked the academic world. I like learning. I like books. I like being around books. What better way to indulge my interest than to work in, or with, a university?

But I ran out of money. And there went one of my dreams. I had to step into the real world. I didn’t want to. But I had no choice.

In a way, I wanted to also prove to myself that I could make it in the real world. In the corporate world, the dog eat dog world, the world without boundaries and familiar faces. So I put in all I had at my job. For myself. To show myself that I could really do this. That I could rise up to the challenge. That I’m just as good, if not better, than my peers. That meant putting in late hours, working over weekends, losing touch with my friends, one by one. You can’t have a life if you’re working all the time.

8 years down the line, I think I’ve proven to myself that I can do it. I’m happy with what I’ve achieved thus far. However, I’m not happy with my personal life. Mainly because I don’t have one. And it’s difficult to even try and have one. Once you’ve established yourself as a workhorse, people just expect you to be that way forever and ever. They don’t want you to change. They pile more work on you even if you’re already swamped.

By contrast, the younger generation came in with attitude, with work-life balance strongly entrenched in their outlook on life. Which is irritating because they are not willing to put in the hours, but in a weird way is good because they can differentiate work and personal life. At some point there has to be a clear distinction between work and life. Work is NOT life. Who was it who said, at your deathbed, no one ever regrets having worked too little?

Trying to change my lifestyle is not easy. I see the younger generation being given more leeway than I was ever given. No matter how much I give, it’s always never enough. No matter how little they give, it is always accepted without recrimination.

I can’t change the past. I can’t undo how I used to be. All I can do is change the future. Sure, there is resistance at every turn, but I don’t give up easily. If I did, I wouldn’t be still here after 8 years. So I guess I have to keep on reminding people that I have a life. For as long as I can, until they finally understand. Truly understand that even if I’m single, I can still have a life outside the office. That because I’ve paid my dues in the past, I deserve to have a life outside the office. That it’s the younger generation who owes them, not me.

And if they don’t listen, well maybe it’s time to pursue my abandoned dream of getting a PHD and working in a university.

Think again!

Who am I kidding? Underneath it all I’m still depressed. About the past, about the present, about the future. I still feel like a failure. Sure, I’ve managed to repress all of that by working and exercising like crazy. I try and fill my days with as many things as possible so that when I come home I’m so tired all I want to do is sleep. And tomorrow is another day. And so the days pass. As if everything is ok. But it’s not ok. Nothing is ok. Sure, the tears have stopped. But that is because believe it or not, I’ve no time to cry. My life is one big rush now from one thing to another. No more tears. But who am I really kidding? Having no time to feel sad or cry doesn’t mean I’m happy. Deep down I’m still sad. The heart ache lingers on. Like a never ending story. Oh well. This story will definitely have an ending.

And it just goes on...

I don’t know why so many people are obsessed with negativity. They seem to really thrive on it. They’ll point out everything negative about you to you, and never mention anything positive about you, as if there is nothing positive about you at all! Is it just me or has the world become a meaner place to live in??

Give me a break!

Due to excessive binging in December, I have put on quite a bit of weight. I am taking serious steps to rectify the situation, but it is proving to be a long and arduous process, especially at my age and with my Indian genes. I love food. Always have. But desperate times call for drastic measures. I have to cut down on food, especially fatty food which somehow always tastes better than healthy food. And increase my exercise. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing, but it’s still proving to be a long and arduous process.

 The thing that I notice about most people are that they are so eager to point out to me that I have put on weight, but when I lose weight, they almost never mention it. Why? I’d like to know. They feel a need to let me know that I’m fat, but not that I’m slim. Why why why? It’s almost as if they take delight or comfort in the fact that I’ve put on weight, but are not happy (or perhaps jealous?) that I’ve lost weight. Or perhaps they just wish to warn me that I’m getting fat in the hopes that I would do something about it. Yeah right. Like they really care.

 And it doesn’t just stop at weight. It can be anything; if it’s something bad or negative they will not hesitate to tell it to my face but if it’s something good or positive I get nothing but silence. Didn’t their mothers ever tell them that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all??

I am fat

I used to be a chubby kid. Then I lost weight in university (no more of Mom’s cooking and the stress of living away from home). And now I’m steadily gaining weight again. It all started in December when there was one party after another with almost unlimited amounts of drinks and food. And now it’s so difficult to lose the weight I’ve gained. I’ve tried dieting, I’ve increased my trips to the gym, but still it doesn’t work! Some days I’m determined to go all out, some days I just give up. Nothing seems to work. Some people say stress can cause weight loss. Not for me. Work is pretty stressful at the moment but that has done nothing to decrease the weight. It’s driving me nuts. I hate to fail. And this feels like failure. One would’ve thought with 16 years to go why bother? Because I only have 16 more years to go, and I want to look good. Go out in style so to speak. But that is becoming more and more difficult by the day! Yet another reason to be depressed.

Stop the blame game

One of the characters in Julian Barnes' England, England has this rule - that after the age of 25, one should not blame one's parents anymore.

I think this is a fantastic rule, it should be made into law if possible. Because then it will teach one to be responsible over one's own life instead of just shifting the blame onto where it all started - your parents. I think too many people use the blame game much too easily, be it serial killers or ordinary people on the street.

At some point in your life (and 25 years of age seems to be a good place to start) you should just stop blaming everyone and everything else in your life, and take charge of your own life. If you succeed, you have yourself to thank, if you fail, you have yourself to blame.

If you're not happy with the way things are, do something about it. Don't just sit and whine and say if only I had my own room, or if only things were different, or if only they loved me more or whatever other convoluted excuses that you can think of, if only if only if only, I would be better off today. You can't change the past.  But you can change the future. You are your own person, so why keep blaming the past?

After you are 25, you’re on your own. You can think for yourself, you know right from wrong, you can do whatever you want to do. If you don’t, don’t go blaming anyone else but yourself for your hesitation or fear of the unknown. Because that’s what it really is. You don’t do something because you don’t want to or because you are fearful. Not because you cannot. There is no such thing as cannot anymore. If you don’t do something or do something after you are 25, whatever the outcome, it is your own doing. Not anyone else’s. Certainly not your parents’.

Who am I?

Who am I? I mean, who am I really?

I’m not talking about labels – daughter, sister, friend, acquaintance, employee, etc. Neither am I talking about philosophy – the purpose of life in the bigger scheme of things, etc. or chemistry and physics - that I'm made of molecules, atoms, etc, or religion - karma, reincarnation, prana, etc.

I’m talking about right here, right now. Who am I? Am I the cheerful one who says hi to everyone she knows, am I the angry one who is pissed off at the world, am I the sad one who always cries alone?

Let's see. I used to be happy. I was the happy one. Now? All of the above. None of the above. Now I am just lost. I actually don’t know who I am. Is life really a choice? Can you choose to be who you are? Don’t extraneous factors such as experience, friends, lifestyle, etc also contribute to who you are? Was I the same person I was 10 years ago? 15 years ago? Of course not. You can't remain stagnant. Change is inevitable.

So who am I, right here, right now?

A critical analysis of the novel ‘Cutting for Stone’ by Abraham Verghese

This blog is dedicated to my boss who is a diligent anonymous follower of my blog, and who recommended the book below to me, which I have read and have the following criticisms:

A critical analysis of the novel ‘Cutting for Stone’ by Abraham Verghese

1.            The backdrop does not really reveal much

This book revolves around twin brothers born (allegedly) mysteriously to an Indian nun and a British doctor (always remember, there is no such thing as an immaculate conception, it’s only a matter of time before such stories are revealed as mere fiction not unlike Hang Tuah and gang), set against the backdrop of tumultuous events in Ethiopia, including an attempted military coup.

However, I feel that the backdrop does not really address the history of Ethiopia both from an international perspective as well as from the main character’s perspective. At the end of the novel, I had no idea what Ethiopia’s history was, and had to Google the same to get some answers.

In this regard,  Khaled Hosseini’s ‘The Kite Runner’ and ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ provide excellent reads both in terms of plot as well as the history of Afghanistan.

2.            Medical jargon

The author, Abraham Verghese, is a doctor. And like most doctors I know, they tend to forget that some, if not most, of their listeners / readers do not have medical background or knowledge, and (surprise, surprise) are not interested in medical stuff, otherwise they would be in the medical profession.

The author spends too much time writing about medical conditions, surgeries and the like in some detail which does not interest me at all. There is only so much medical jargon that one can take. I may condone it if it was actually important to the plot, but most of it was not. At times I felt like I was reading a medical text book. Not fun.

3.            Talk about the Ramayana!

If there was ever a competition on who can write longer than the Ramayana, this book will surely be in the running. The plot is fairly simple. But it just went on and on and on and on for 541 pages! Brevity is the soul of wit? Certainly not for this author!

4.            Conclusion

As long winded as the writer was, he did write well at times, but unfortunately the well written verses do not really stand out in light of the tedious and lengthy phrases  that seem to go on forever with no end in sight. On a scale of 1 to 10, (1 = sucks, 10 = must read) I’d give it a 3.

By comparison, books that I have rated as 9 include ‘1984’ by George Orwell and ‘The Sense of an Ending’ by Julian Barnes.

Sorry boss!

Ramblings...

There’s nothing like a bit of nostalgia to calm a restless heart. Going back to where it all started, where dreams were first planted in one’s soul, and after being carefully nurtured over the years, some blossomed into beautiful trees, trees that would provide shade and shelter to the people around one; whilst other dreams just wilted and faded away. Perhaps it was meant to be this way. Perhaps going back to where it all started is what one needs to start again – to replant those dreams that have failed, to nurture them and see where it takes one. It’s not too late; it can’t be too late if one is still alive. And while one is at it, I suppose there is nothing to stop one from planting new dreams – dreams that heretofore seemed impossible, but with time and experience, have become possible.

A picture paints a thousand words

iPad 2                : RMX,XXX
Cover                 : RMXX
Screen protector : RMXX
Router                : RMXX

The look on Dad's face when receiving gift : Priceless

Help me or don't help me - it's as simple as that!

When I ask you for help, I am well aware that I am asking a favour. You are not obliged to help me. So I’d appreciate it if you would just tell it to my face whether you are able to help me or not. If you can, well and good. If you can’t, I won’t hold it against you.

But if you can’t or don’t want to or won’t, TELL ME! Tell me so that I can ask for help from someone else, or figure something out on my own. Don’t give me the impression that you will help me and then make me wait for you while you give me the run around. It is disrespectful. It is shameful.

You think you’re letting me down gently by telling me you can help me, but then giving me 10,000 excuses about how you have to be everywhere else in this world. You think that by doing that, I will get the hint and understand that you really don’t wish to help me.

But you don’t realize that by telling me you’ll help me and then giving me excuses as to why you can’t, you are only delaying the help that I needed, help which I could’ve gotten earlier had you told me in the first place that you can’t help me.

So do me one last favour. The next time I ask you for help, have the guts to tell me to my face that you can’t help me. Not that I’d ask for your help again anyway.

Misery loves company

Sometimes I think I find my own misery. Like I cannot believe that I can actually be happy. Truly and genuinely happy. Or maybe I’m just afraid that the happiness won’t last. It never does. So before the universe puts a spanner in the works, I find my own misery.

Reminiscences

As cliché as this may sound, have you ever wondered why you were put here on Earth, right here, right now? I have asked myself this a million times and I’m sorry to say that I still don’t have the answer. If everything happens for a reason, then there must be a reason for my very existence right here, right now. Or in the bigger scheme of things, I am meant to do something, either minute or colossal, which may then trigger other events which in turn will trigger other events, etc. In other words, something in the future that is meant to happen will not happen without me.

I often entertain morbid thoughts, usually to do with my own mortality. Even when I am not entertaining such thoughts, taking a flight on a budget airplane during the monsoon season would soon put such thoughts into your head, trust me. So as I was sitting through some pretty rough turbulence, as usual I thought whether this would be the end and if so, I would actually be happy right then and there because I have nothing more to live for anyway.

And then this stray thought just comes into my head, telling me that it’s not the end yet for me because my mission as it were on Earth is not done yet. A random thought borne out of fear? God whispering to me? The universe reaching out to me? A voice from the past? A voice from the future? And no, I’m not schizophrenic.

Whatever it is, I have 17 years to find out what it is that I have to do, and more importantly, I hope that whatever history altering feat that I have to perform will be duly performed to the standards of the powers that be before 17 years is up. Maybe the fact that I die in 17 years is the thing that I’m supposed to do. In which case, how ironic is that? To survive 50 years of death defying accidents, murder, disease and other anything-can-happen nonsense, only to die in the end at my own hands.

Saying goodbye

Every time I say goodbye to my parents, I am transported back into my 6-year-old self, standing like a lost puppy at the door step of my kindergarden, being separated from my parents for the first time in my life. There is a feeling of helplessness and loss, like my whole world of warmth, security, protection, seclusion even – was all crumbling down like a house of cards. And the kindergarden teachers who pulled away a tearful 6-year-old that day were all wicked witches who ate little children for fun, and they would be sure to eat me for I was the fattest of them all.

Fast forward 27 years later, I still feel the same way every time I say goodbye to my parents. Like I am leaving the safest place I know into unknown, adverse and hostile territory where only the valiant and resilient will survive, for if you don’t watch your back, the world will surely swallow you whole. Nay, tear you to pieces, watch your tortured body and tormented soul fester in pain and agony, and then swallow every last piece of you, and then some.

Saying goodbye to them was never easy for me then, and it isn’t easy for me even now.