Rejoice

I almost let the day slip by without attempting to put it down in record; almost. But today being the most beautiful day so far in 2014, I can't do that, now can I?

It never ceases to amaze me how attuned I am with nature. The day seems to take me under my arms and throw up upward and I rise, and rise and rise, with the gorgeousness around me. Yes, this is definitely Spring.

And it's March! Well, the end of March technically. I realize I had psychologically locked my mind toward experiencing this rapture of springtime in May - my favourite month.  When the warmth is really and truly in place, when the unpredictability of the weather has been tamed down, so much that it can be said to be tamed.

And I don't know. I have felt unhinged. Just as unpredictable the weather has been these days - sun, rain, snow, high winds, no wind - it seems that's also been reflective of who and how I have been. Some days I am down in the murky depressing world, and the very next, I seem to suck it all in, and give the optimistic route another try. I seem to portray the typical girl with mood-swings, but it isn't that. Is it ever?

 So it's hard to understand women, I hear. Hell, it is hard to understand anyone or anything really, if you try hard enough. Can you understand the weather? Blows hot, blows cold. We observe patterns in wind movement, we recognize hormonal patterns.

But hey, I'm not saying it's all about PMSing. This certainly isn't. I mean, not all this hectic candidness about how I'm fluctuating my moods - don't get me wrong. I'm just saying it's the season of change, and somehow it seems to internalize also.

Does this mean that if I lived in a climate that was more stable and constant, I would be so also? I don't know. Maybe I should experiment and try it out. But I can't help but admit something. Despite the months of cold blustery winters, or the weeks of musty, dreary rain, or the reddened noses, or the sweltering heat waves and humidity - I love it all. I love where I live because of the vastness of it's climate canvas. It goes all over the place, and is so vibrantly, emphatically, colourful. There is just so much that we get to experience, and yes, I love it.

Similarly, even when I get down in the dumps and break up with hope, when I torment myself with negativity, and then get over it, feeling really stupid about it all, even when I get really excited about the smallest things and go hyper-bananas-crazy and then come back down to earth wondering what the hell's wrong with me - despite it all, I love it. I love the million trillion gazillion shades of me.

Almost April

It's 2 degrees Celsius, which is a HUGE improvement over the blistering minus 20 degree Celsius weather we'd been facing the past winter. So it should be pretty warm, relatively speaking. And yet, in the slow, gradual and prolonged climb of the temperature, my body's decided to do what it does best and regulate itself.

So I'm still cold. But just not very cold. Oh sure, I should not be complaining, and please don't get me wrong, this isn't really a complaint as such. It's just the curious observation it is. So yes, I've moved on toward wearing t-shirts around the house, and going barefooted, which is a HUGE difference, once again.

But what wouldn't I give for the feeling of toes actually cozy in it's bareness.

March

This morning when I awoke, I somehow got this beautiful sense of inhaling spring. I know most of you won't be able to comprehend the exact sensation the way I assimilated it since you will have your own climates that make the foundation of what you know weather-wise.

For me, it was that feeling of smelling freshness, in the way the snow melts and the sun bounces off it, the way the breeze seems that much more balmy, and looser. The way it intoxicates the mind with the promise of something yet to come, because right now it's not there yet, but the promise itself is what is intoxicating.

Then I stood for a few moments at the glass door to the backyard, as my kitten did the same, and just soaked up the quiet ambience of pure undiluted sunshine. The 5 feet or so of snow that once filled the yard was diminished, diminishing, now a little section here and there, the scattered remnants of sunflower seeds consumed by our wildlife friends left hulled and empty.

I half closed my eyes, and let myself soak in the sunshine, thinking to myself that yes, it's almost here. But right now it is what is beautiful, and right now is what I shall enjoy.

Temporal

I have realized another change in myself. Not something that is deeply embedded or having to do with emotions and personality, exactly.

It is interesting to remember that there was a time when it was necessary for me to always have my earphones on, music on, plugged into the computer I was using simultaneously. For hours, days, months, years, this was my status quo. While studying, reading, essaying, writing, researching, designing, coding, forum-ing, chatting, I had the earphones in, music on. Without fail.

In the last few days though, I suddenly realize that I have almost no tolerance for doing this anymore -- I feel irritated, and disoriented, plus there is this sensation of cognitive dissonance. I, the once notable multitasking queen, am losing my touch.

Or am I? I feel that it isn't just the physicality of the context. There are so many other variables contributing to this difference in me; now I feel that I am much more busy - mentally, emotionally and physically. I have more on my mind, and more emotional responsibility...I guess you could say.

And it's just another symptom of the same thing, when you correlate it to why my writing has changed as well - something I already discussed a few times. Writing....music...they were my constant companions and go-to's for my loneliness. Ah, those times back then, sure I had friends and was filling my days with that constant chatter of comraderie...but that too was also another sort of balm for my loneliness.

Now that's all changed, somehow. My days of filling lines in a notebook have diminished in being able to share it all to someone else instead. My hours of filling silence with music have also floated away with time...

But then lately, in the past few weeks, there has been a quaint revisitation to old songs and themes long past. Thanks to a co-blogger who has been steamrolling ahead with sharing songs, I've been finding myself navigating old alleyways searching out certain tunes and it's sort of a lovely feeling to refind old tracks and blow the dust away from them (figuratively) and remember the.. memories.

And finding old memories has also happened in terms of my writing. I first started blogging on Xanga.com way back in 2004. Before that, I used notebooks to write any thoughts (and also had this 'thing' about writing actual letters back and forth with friends). Last week, it occurred to me to go revisit those old blog posts on that domain, only to discover that the site was undergoing some changed that entailed anyone who wanted to use their services having to pay. Basically, all my blogs were gone.

For a memory-hoarder like myself, this sort of thing was simply disastrous. Heartbreaking! I immediately emailed the website admin. Paced about a few days. Then they replied back with a link to download my archived posts. Phew.

So then I downloaded the xml code. Figured I could import it to Blogger, but nope - for some reason it wouldn't allow the parsing. So...well anyways, this is the point: my old blog posts are now posted on Lucid Iridescence (my 'prose' blog) and going through them again was sort of like another revelation of remniscence. I had quite a few of the posts that I had kept as 'private' when they were on Xanga. I didn't want the public to read those emotions and thoughts. I thought about this briefly when posting to Blogger, but felt that since those emotions and contexts were detached from the person I am now, I do not feel so uncomfortable with having them see the light of day. Or rather, have other people see them. So they are all there in all their glory. If you are interested in this, I have done some simple organizing: the posts from my first blog on xanga are labelled 'Sapne' (that is what my first blog was called). The posts transferred from my second blog on another domain are labelled 'Read My Lips' (again what that blog was called). All my posts that had been posted since, directly during my time here on Blogger remain unlabelled.

The interesting thing to note is that going from each different blog phase, the difference in me itself is startlingly stark. Or, maybe it is for me. I don't know. Again it's quite amazing to remark on how the state of a person's lonesomeness can correlate to their state of mind.

Bay At Midnight

I liked to have at least the illusion of control over what happened to the people I love. [He] said that’s why I wrote fiction: it gave me total control over every single character and every single thing that happened. He was probably right.

- Diane Chamberlain

Kreativ Blogger Award Part 2

Okay so moving forward, I have to tell you all 11 things about myself. Usually I relish the chance to prattle about my 2nd favourite person (yes, moi), but the thing is, whenever I come to this segment of these award processes I always baulk at what I'm supposed to tell. Anyways here let's try again.


1. I am a very very emotional person, and I cry easily.
2. In person I am very jokey; I say dumb things, make goofy remarks, faces, grin here and there and do the silliest things.
3. I love reaching out to people, making them feel better. This is one of my good points but also detrimental to myself in many cases.
4. I can be a really cold ice-queen bitch if I choose to. When someone loses out in my respect or good terms, it becomes amazingly easy to pull the shutter down on that relationship, black or white.
5. I hold onto emotions, and memories too much. I am attached to attachments too easily.
6. I am extremely idealistic, and will argue an argument to death.
7. 'Not-giving-a-damn' comes very easy to me, it was for the most part who I became for a very long phase. I won an award for most likely to not give a damn.
8.  I care too much too often.
9. I don't swear. Ever. The most I say shit, crap, damn or 'what the hell'.
10. I have been in love with the love of my life for a decade more or less.
11. I have issues with people having habits of extravagance and waste and unhealthfulness.


Ok, that's 1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.11 things, okay done done doneeeeeeeee. Have a great weekend!

Kreativ Blogger Award

Oh god, I am the unlucky recipient of an award again! Haha, well okay, of course being considered for awards are great things, and being considered worthy of one is an awesome thing, but the irony is that good things come with a catch! And in this case it's the regular 92480248029840238 questions that come along with these blogger awards.

But before the person who awarded me sincerely thinks I hate him for it, I would like to clear that up and thank you Mr. IHeardYou, for the award and your....interesting (-_-) questions that I must answer.

So although I have to additionally tell you all 11 things about me, I'm going to first address Mr. IHY's questions... ahem.


1. Do you think it's unusual that we're the products of horniness of two people? You didn't answer this last time :P

No actually, I don't think it is unusual at all. It's simple biology, and as we're all hormone machines it's only logical that these hormones are those which induce us to be inclined towards such attraction and procreative activities in furthering our gene pool.


2. Forget about all your crushes and all, I wanted to know have you ever slept with anyone really or you just give free love advice? Actually the people I am nominating are wonderful people who don't advise at all ! :P No actually they're real sweethearts and advise only when asked to :D  So for them, I want to ask, what is your definition of love?

Love! You're asking me this?! Holy pakora, I can write books about this if I was capable of putting this into words. And boy have I tried! That's the whole point of me even having a blog really, because it's the recording of my feelings and thoughts and emotions and I pretty much LIVE for love (no exaggeration). So I can't define it, sorry...

3. If you become filthy rich what would you do with all that money? If you ask me I would try and help bring down suffering in this world. Honestly. What would you do?

I know, right? They say that this 'relieving suffering' answer is such a cliche. BUT IT'S NOT.  I already give part of each paycheque toward charity and so if I actually became filthy rich, I could only lessen the filthiness by sharing the burden of wealth to those who could do with some of that kind of filthiness...like actual water and soap, yknow.

4. What do you weigh more- Self respect or relationship? Why?

It's totally impossible for me to say either weighs more. They belong together and why? Because the fulfillment of my relationship is based on love and results in the fulfillment of my self-respect by being loved and considered worthy of loving and my self-respect is giving toward that relationship in such a way that it remains full of mutual respect and balance, to be constant and successful.

That said - if a relationship (not strictly that of the love kind) starts eroding on personal self-worth and becomes something less healthy, then it goes without saying such a relationship should not be worth its while if no other solution works, and of course then self-respect comes first.

5. You're feeling down from a very long time. Noting good has come your way from quite a long time. Would your faith in religion be still intact?

I don't think I have a faith in "religion" as such. I have a faith in spirituality, in the goodness of the self. I believe that what I put "out" into the world is what comes back around; consequently I try to be the best person I can be. At times I fall down pretty hard and become very depressed, but that only serves to come back around to kick me in my backside really hard. Nothing good will come out of just moping about. The smallest positivity in thinking is a small step, but then it gets better and better when you keep believing that it will. So I think I could say that THAT (circumstance as outlined in the question) should be the proof of my faith; if I doubt my faith, why should my faith believe in me?

6. Why do you think we love our family the most? Is it because of that special bond or just because we have become habitual of spending our lives with them for so many years?

Um, wait. Who says I love my family the most?

OK seriously. Family is that which we know first in our developing years. The idiosyncrasies, the habits, the bond established through continuous interaction is that which we are most familiar with. Like a teddy bear when a baby, or our comfort blanket, we have this psychological instinct to feel comfort with that which we know best. Additionally, we become who we are through those who brought us up - not just taught us, but who were around us when we grew into the adult we have become (or are becoming). So, when you look at family even if you do not realize it, you recognize subliminally that you are looking at yourself. Another point to think about: to say that the 'special bond' and the 'habit of spending our lives for so many years' are mutually exclusive may not really be accurate: both may be one and the same.

7. Do you feel the need to change someone's opinion. On any topic. Just as long as you know their opinion is not right and it's unjustifiable. Why? Is it because you care about them?

Yes, sometimes (maybe often) I do. I have a fascination with the 'truth' and with 'fact' and often when faced with the opinion of another person which is different from mine, I end up arguing for my point because I usually will not entertain an opinion without having just cause (grounded in fact, for example) and will then do my utmost to show the other person where their opinion is flawed. Sometimes, I realize, opinion is just that - a matter of personal opinion - and you can't force a person to change that. Does it have anything to do with if I care about them? Sometimes. Often it's simply a matter of impersonal debate: right vs. wrong, fact vs. fact.
I do agree though, often I will not bother to continue what could be process of argument, simply because I couldn't care less about what the other person thinks; it's not worth my time and effort.

8. What qualities do you look in a person when you're at your weakest, emotionally.

In my significant other? A rock: supportive, loving, caring, and yet logical and practical. (That said - Hallelujah! I am blessed.)

9. Do you think people who have suffered a lot in the past need to be given any extra favours or special status than those who didn't? In general sense as well as in personal sense. And also do you believe in extending those favours to the successive generations as well? (This last line is specifically for communities)

I think the question is ambiguous.

10. Our isolation or mood swings. Are they a result of the circumstances or just your own pre-assumptions and exaggerated situations in your head?

Circumstances, hormones, perception, list goes on. There isn't just any one cause.

11. Final question. It's tricky! You had proposed to some guy/girl in the past and he/she had rejected it. Now you also dislike that person to the core. If you two were the only beings left on this planet, would you have intercourse? Supposedly you do. Would it be for continuation of human species or just out of umm.. lust ? :P

Nah, I wouldn't. I'm not that desperate. I think I'd have more important things to worry about. 

Oh hello,  no more questions? Woohooo. I am freeeeeeee. Rest of the Award stuff to follow..

Symbiosis

While I turn to writing as solace, without expecting anything in return other than the expenditure of those built-up emotions through the act of writing, I was very much overwhelmed with the feedback I got recently. Not just in quantity but the quality of what you guys gave back to me - thank you, thank you, and thank you!

Really and truly, I don't think I have felt such immense gratitude through my blog before. Sure most of you are absolutely amazing with how frequent you praise me and my writing and there are those special ones who go beyond to show this in more ways than one. But this time, it was different. I guess it was different for me because I haven't been used to letting go of my restraints and just showing my vulnerabilities. 

That said, I really did not expect anything at all - maybe the briefest lines of commiseration - but what I got in return just...it simply made my heart smile. But yup, I didn't expect the mini-essays of support in whichever form you chose to express it, and that was because of my 'disclaimer'. 

As one of you noticed, it's there as an addendum to my posts, and I am not sure why it is still there - I guess that only means that I'm going to try to be 'keeping it real' with my expressing myself. It's a bit of a hard thing to do actually, because usually I feel really dumb about having let myself go down into a state of depression, and because they don't last too long, I feel that it's something like making a drama out of things, by doing so. I don't know.

The main reason I put that disclaimer up and have worded the way I did is pretty much rooted in the same reason why I feel hesitant about even writing about my struggles and sadnesses. I'm pretty self-sufficient, and usually my depressions are based on the fact that the few emotional dependencies I allow myself haven't been too stable - either in my mind or for some real reason... so yeah you can imagine the state of chaos going on inside my carefully constructed emotional self. 

(If I am not really making sense right now it would be because I am listening to some really great Buddha Bar and it's really distracting me; it puts me into a total different mood and sometimes I feel like I am in an intoxicated fugue while listening, so yeah...)

Aah what was I even saying? 

(Oh wow, I just checked which track was playing on my extensive Buddha Bar playlist and whatdyaknow, it's Opium. See? There was some subliminal thing going on there..)

*falls into a trance*

Seena Pada

aaj main jism nahin aaj main parchhaayi hoon
har jagah bhir ka sailaab tere chaaron taraf
main apne aap mein simti hui tanhaayi hoon

What's My Point?

For as long as I can remember, 'a sense of humour' was the criteria I checked off in the answer to the question "What do you want most in your significant other".

The question is a bit ludicrous in itself since it requires the dismissal of all other traits in favour of your choice. But a much younger me had no problem - I was always so sure of my requirement - because I was (am) a person who survives on humour.

But then in another phase, when I was much older - and more subdued by life itself - I found myself questioning this choice. I would ask around among friends and colleagues to see what their choices were and why; an open-ended question where they could choose whichever trait it was they most wanted in their significant other. This was a time when I was thoroughly in my 'one day' waiting phase and was very much immersed with thoughtfulness and daydreams about this 'one day' and 'prince charming'.

Somewhere down the line, I started considering 'understanding' over 'sense of humour'. But it was tough to let go of the hope that one day my prince charming would be the one to make me laugh like no other. I'd chosen 'sense of humour' for as long as I could remember most likely because for once I'd have loved to be the one being made to laugh, instead of making others laugh.

But what these questionnaires never teach us is the fact that despite all the wants and requirements we would want in our significant other, it's never so simple when it happens.

Lately, I have been down in the dumps with respect to 'communication'. Or the lack therof. I have been feeling way too depressed with feeling that the things I say aren't important. And it isn't just that. I guess I need communication. I need the bond built with words - however mundane or trivial - the communication, the sharing, is a bond as intimate as any other. And when it's breaking down...I just don't know. I feel lost.

Maybe my seeking these things, sense of humour, understanding, appreciation, communication all stem from a lifetime of never having them.

I have always been made to feel that when I say something no one really listens, or that what I've said just goes unnoticed or unremarked. Or the things I say aren't deemed noteworthy because I was the one who voiced it. Or I feel this cold impatience from the other person. I've spent most of my life feeling like a ghost or a shadow. And I suppose, that is why I've ended up writing to express myself. A symptom of loneliness.


So here I am again: writing.

For Me

Sometimes I'm stuck in a rut, again suddenly confronted with this overwhelming sense of loneliness. And I end up thinking whether there is something lacking in me, that I keep feeling that I'm left behind, or lose the grip on a string that's just slipped out of my hands, or that maybe I just fall short. Sometimes I kind of feel maybe my problem is that I try too hard. I'm a people-pleaser, and of course that doesn't really work out too well when you're too much of one.

Then at the same time, I try to not be one, and I hold back. Or rather, I   hold back from stating things which are confrontational or overly sentimental, or way too personal. That's why I stopped writing the way I wish I could write. 

Today I got a huge, umm, not sure what to really call it - a wake up call? A shock it was certainly, because it hurt me immensely when I came across something that made me feel absolutely ridiculous. Not ridiculous only, because that sort of implies a self-consciousness grounded with ego. But further, a sense of betrayal. A sense of being taken for granted. Or of failure. 

I had a huge cry-out. And yeah I am actually admitting this here. I normally avoid opening up completely on this blog, and one of the things I had a good think about was this also; specifically, why I do this. Avoiding becoming too personal or vulnerable; opening up fully was something I had grown to avoid like the plague. Consequently, I ended up writing extremely vaguely, and furthermore, this resulted in loopy, wordy and vociferous posts that might have sounded profound and poignant, but must have definitely confused my reader.

But the point was that I wasn't supposed to be writing for anyone else, right? For myself? But that is something I lost in trying to balance the forces of expression and art. And I lost myself somewhere also.

So yeah, I had a huge cryfest. FYI: I have these often. I cry easily. I also laugh easily. I'm a softy, and this is something I try to guard like the crown jewels, because well, this was just another consequence of bad experiences. The more I opened up and showed how vulnerable I was, the quicker people were to lose interest and drop you like a hot potato - or, maybe worse: take you for granted.

Being taken for granted is something I have strugged with for...well pretty much my whole life. From being the eldest in a family with huge hardships, and having to take care of everyone - I lost the sense of being able to be me from a very young age. I couldn't be me, because I was busy being a mother/wife/sister/servant for everyone else. So I was molded into being a people-pleaser. This stuck with me in varying ways over the years. Trying to be this, or trying to be that. Working harder to do things to make someone else feel better or pleased. 

Anyways, all this is already making me cringe with how sentimental it all seems. I hate having to express myself or explain myself in the form of describing whatever experiences; as if in some way that's asking for pity. It isn't that I have ego or pride to not want people to pity me, I just don't want to use whatever experiences to gain it, when I feel that so many people out there have it way worse. I just gotta deal with it so I'm okay. 

But there was something else entirely that I had wanted to write about. Being taken for granted - I don't know. I already hesitate to label it as this, because I already know that the reaction of those who I would 'accuse' of doing this would be hurt. And there again, I don't want to hurt someone else, so I hold back from doing so. But isn't that already a symptom of the problem? I don't know.

Sometimes I wish I weren't the person I was really. I wish I wasn't so kid-at-heart ish. Because maybe my thoughts and words would be more meaningful. Or that I was more aloof and restrained with giving myself to others - maybe other people would want to try harder to please me. Maybe there is something afterall that rings true with this concept of playing hard to get. 

Much of this might be eye-opening to some of you - because I don't talk about most of this. My personal life story, the idea that I am a real kid (at heart), or how sensitive a person I am. Which is ironic in comparison to the previous paragraph, isn't it. 

Anyways. So post-cryfest, I decided to go slave in the kitchen (doing something I love, and also keeping me busy and productive) but of course, I had to think through everything. Who says I think too much? 

I had to first gauge if my reaction was overdone. It might have been, nevertheless, even if I cut away the extra-sensitivity, there were things which remained that still hurt. Then I considered, why must I keep trying to mould myself to meet another person's standards? And why was I putting everything of myself and my world centered around this one person? Was it reciprocated, equally? No. 

Then I figured, why was I doing all this, then? Just because love said that I shouldn't expect anything back? (And oh yes, this gets heavier, gee whiz, love.) I don't know. Something I considered long time back was that I put more into the pot so that it felt that there was enough in it to provide for the amount given by two people. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should stop.

Ah, I know - there is someone who's thinking I told you so. That's okay. You told because you cared. And I reciprocate your care by listening to you. So yup. I think I'm pretty much vented out.

 Today is (was?) International Women's Day, and the theme for me is loving myself. And I'm going to stop caring about whoever gives a damn about the things I give a damn about. It hurts but what can you do. Yesterday I was looking at this website for lyrics, looking at the lyrics of "Let It Go" from Disney's Frozen (because 1. I'm totally a Disney child and 2. I love the song, dammit)...and other than the aptness of the lyrics for my own state of mind, when I scrolled down to the meaning of the lyrics as interpreted by the commenters, I stumbled across a flame war by a bunch of 9 year olds. It was hilarious, in a way. In a sad, pathetic way, I grant you, but funny, because you just imagine these little imps tapping away into their keyboards with their tiny faces all scrunched up, and almost half of them can't spell, nevermind grammar, so they're arguing in between asking "wat dose unighted meen". But the gist of their argument was whether the song had anything to do with love at all or not, and one side was declaring that it was love for the self. So yeah. Let it go!

A kingdom of isolation and it looks like I'm the queen.
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside.
Couldn't keep it in, Heaven knows I tried.
Don't let them in, don't let them see.
Be the good girl you always have to be.
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know.
Well, now they know!
Let it go, let it go!

Happy International Women's Day

What would it be like to have your appreciation? To have you look at me the way you look at others, and not be blinded by the fact I already belong to you, that I am already yours. To feel that what I do is something that you are intrigued by, that what is important to me is something you feel gives you momentum to take the time to understand and appreciate. To have your attention and your interest the way you give it to others. Instead of feeling like a duty, that I must understand that you have no time for me or rather  my unimportant things, because other things are more pressing - I understand - but others get your admiration instead. I wonder what it would be like to see you there as my number one supporter, without me having to ask you to be. To have you going on your own inclinations because you want to. To not have to ask you, again and again, to make what I rendered with love a chore. Maybe I just suck at whatever I thought I was good at. Maybe this is too much but the contrast was a stab in the back and right now I just cannot write anymore.