waiting for my world to change

What are these tears all about?
The tea was alright, the friends will call, this big dog loves me
I miss being uninvolved with people I barely know
I miss not having a cellphone
I miss being unplanned
I miss trouble-free skin
I miss getting my hands dirty after painting things that will be chucked in the bin before they dry
I miss getting up at 6.30
I miss life 10 years ago
Make that 15
Sometimes I wonder why I was born at all

In my life

There are two ways to solving most problems. And I have only tried one all my life. Taking the easy way. Apologising, hiding, lying, changing my opinion. Anything goes as long as I do not have to take the hard way. As far as I have seen, the hard way is too painful, it's very depressing and I cannot afford to be depressed.
But, not so surprisingly, it is catching up with me... this second way I have been running away from.
The facing people who put me down, regularly. The shouting back when I am insulted, the picking up the phone and dialling a number, and mostly, NOT picking up the phone.
I am not a very organised person and I am not very sure if I am tackling my problems correctly, but what I do know is that things are changing in my life and now, I know milestones on both roads.

Listen

The thing about routines is that even if what you are getting thoroughly bored with is good for you, you will get bored anyway.
And you wont rest until you change it, and you will fall ill trying it, but you will keep at it doggedly.
Maybe this trick was immensely useful thousands of years ago, but not now. Not with deadlines, appointments, weekly grocery shopping trips, visits from relatives, sudden but expected costs.
Shut up and put up with it.
Dont waste time trying to get yourself a makeover as well.

Oi Rowling! What's with you?

Firstly, I am disappointed that an author would change her content so much that the original fans of her books, when the series was a fledgling, would be left by the wayside.
By all means, write for adults. But, write for children too.
That's what made her books so enchanting, the fact that the first 2 books were heart-warming. I may be horribly old-fashioned, but I think that's what children (and the rest of us) need. Some good old heart-warming books. We have enough of newspapers to dish out the surreally disgusting side of life.

Would they read Book no 7 with as much happiness as they did No 1? I refer to those little ones who had lapped up her first book and industriously put pen to paper to write a thank you letter, which she so proudly published.

Ms Rowling, I shake my head in quiet frustration.

Friends

I don't make a good friend. I do not drop everything if a friend needs me. I don't lend money, or borrow, if i can help it. I cannot offer them a free rein at my home, although I would love to. I always change plans at the last minute if they want to meet me. I do not feel useful when they ask me for advice.
But, thats about friends.
When it comes to a few of the angels I know, everything changes. their worries morph into mine. I still dont lend or borrow money, but if they need to bury a dead body, i'll get my torch along. and thats a big thing alright. considering i never find all the batteries on time, motu will wake up and start jumping around and so on and so on

Contemplation

I wonder why I rush around so much. Hardly a month goes by without me starting something new. Not all of these things have good effects, not all of these things are seemingly for me.
It is not easy being a hypochondriac geminiian woman.
Hold on, this isn’t about self pity, and I am not just saying that.
Take my pup for example. He is more than I can handle. More than anyone else can.
I extend my paranoia to his well being and since he has come home, I haven’t slept for more than 3 hours at a stretch. I haven’t been able to work very well, and I have had aches and pains for quite some time now?
I think I am complaining. But, would I change anything?
If I had a choice, if I could find him a good home, maybe a better one, would I give him away?
Let me pause for a moment and ponder about this.



No, I will not. If I can find him a better home, chances are I can make a better home too. Mum has calmed down a lot and she looks happier, but, that is not the only reason why I brought him home.
He is as my child. I am responsible for him and I love him.
I think I can come here to let off some steam and complain for a while anyway.

And they call this puppy love

A few months ago, I was walking home, when the strays near my building pounced on a new, beautiful dog. He yelped and ran to hide behind me, and feeling braver than I am (because of this canine's trust in me) I fought them off (meaning I yelled and waved my arms about in a threatening manner).
For a few days, Sniffy (I cannot tell you why I chose to call him this) would lie in wait for me everyday. Walk with me to and from the busstop. And wag his tail.
For me. I felt 10 feet taller and was proud that I could manage, without trying, inspite myself, to make a canine friend.
I havent seen him for many months now. I suspect he is no longer alive. But I see in my new puppy, what I saw in Sniffy.
my own stupid little face, grinning.

Watching a movie

Forget ten years, even a year ago I would have never believed that I would enjoy watching movies. in the theatre. But now, its almost regular.
I like it. Wish I could book the whole theatre, on second thoughts, there are other ways.
Really nice other ways.

'Healthy' cynicism

Funny. I used to think that cynicism wasn't healthy. Thats why the bear, the "only funny books" rule. The throwing away of blue clothes. I thought these things would help. Didnt want to end up as a nicotine, alcohol addict.
Won't.
It is hard to go on 'as usual'. When I get up in the morning I am usually so caught up with finding stuff to cook, that it doesnt bother me.
Its when I watch dad leave, that I realise.
Parents can be mean, friends are busy, siblings are far away and the rest come in the way.
At the end of it all.... nothing is happy. And I cannot improve things.

Crying

As a kid, I had a really good lungs, I could cry so loud that once the neighbours yelled at my mom. She was giving me a bath.
In a strange way, I think that is why I do most of my crying there these days. The time of the month, dropping food, realising I have forgotten to renew the library books, to soak some beans for lunch, run out of steam, missing something, watching someone get what they have missed, articulate it -- all these things drive the tears out. Hot and salty.
Let me make it clear, I do not like it. Crying that is. I detest the act. I think it makes my dry eyes drier.
But, here is what intrigues me... In five minutes I am fine again...
What does this mean? Crying, makes me feel better???
Look, obviously it looks simple to you. I probably got over what was upsetting me and so on, but then here is the silly bit, I would cry again, over the same thing, any time.
This isn't really gripping you. I can tell. In a moment you will choose to click over that tempting red 'x' in the right corner. Right?
Ok, But before you go... I forgot to mention, I need a hug, I just cried.

Once bitten

I could never hurt anyone. Even if you drugged me. Maybe if you held ransom someone I knew, but I’d apologise immediately and take the blame. So, when you called me to come on over, I knew what would happen. You would confront me about your brother’s death and I would say, yes, I couldn’t help it, I’m very sorry.
I bought you flowers. I know you don’t like them, conservationist that you are, but I had to bring them anyway. My empty, big hands needed to be employed some way. I did not expect you to smile when you opened the door and before I could start thinking properly I had said, yes, I would like some tea, thank you. You had even cleared up the table. Now that I didn’t expect. You are famous for your messy home, that’s when I began getting suspicious and wondered if you were poisoning my tea. I heard your stifled yelp when you dropped some hot tea on your foot. I did not offer my help because I know you have your pride.
I wasn’t really worried about the ‘poisoned’ tea, although I hoped you would, but I knew that was too crude for you. I saw your brother’s picture just before you sat down on the armchair next to it. The armchair was a gift from me, but I never told you. You don’t drink tea so you were having a glass of warm water as usual. I was hoping you would say something but you just looked at me patiently. I really thought I would cry.
Three years ago, when you believed in me, I wouldn’t have cared, but now, I just can’t take things like these anymore. Death, disease, angry words, violence. I’ve left it too late. I’m helpless. You shouldn’t have hugged me when I started crying. It made me cry more. A big man like me, howling like a child who has just lost his first puppy.
Twenty minutes? Is that how long I blubbered? But I think, I gave you my best apology yet. You listened like a mother to a child, and I told you about the prayers, the bombs, the way I felt when I watched him hit the ground.
When I got home that night I couldn’t sleep, I still had lots to tell you. I wondered if I could call you and dreamt later that I did and that you shrieked in anger when you saw my face.
Thankfully, you did no such thing when I met you the next day. You didn’t stop me from resigning and i'm glad you didn’t stop me from going away. It hasn’t helped, running away. But maybe the next time I will make fewer mistakes.

i am getting married...

... to a nice gujju girl, who will cook nice yummy food. She will press my feet and ask me nice questions. Never shout. Never be in the way. And she will clean the house too...
(And in another minute I will wake up and realise that good feminists arent supposed to talk like this)
sigh.
ok got to go clear up the kitchen. You do realise how hard i have to work, doing everything by myself, and not a word of gratitude. And these feet that are hardening, what about them eh? So i can't even fantasise about a hardworking wife instead... grumble grumble.

i walk the line

Had a horrible quarrel with mom last night. I don't think things will ever be fine between us. I never really worried about her till about a few years ago. And suddenly, she takes up most of attention - what she does and what she doesn't, what she says when she is angry and what she says when she is crying.
She isn't the only 'difficult' person I know. By difficult I mean someone who won't ask for help.
Who will drag everybody down becuase of some martyr complex.

i won't fight

it's true we seem to lose the arguments that are most important to us.
i dont know how much more reinventing I can stand, i am through with being flexible. but that decision does nothing for me.
I can change my mind and can never stop. they dont let me.
i cant compete with her, i dont know in what way. even if i did, i would give up.
i am scared, of course, a small percentage of people are, of losing what's precious. but if i hold on tight, wont i break it?

Of telescopes and potatoes

I went to Vangani on Saturday night. That is all that I can say about my visit to an astronomy camp without sounding like I got a massive blow to my soul. Because I did.
It happend when I saw the Gateway to the Heavens, between Castor and Pollux from Gemini and Canis Minor.
Can you imagine that?
Can you?
Every planet in our solar system, makes its way through the Gateway, while orbiting through the Sun.
My mind boggles at everything that planets do. including moving along.
Which is something I desperately need to learn. I have been waiting for my life to begin, without realising that it already has. Quite a few years ago.
The other thing that I must try to describe, is what I felt when I saw those shooting stars. How does one continue to breathe?
I must admit though that the telescopes were slightly disappointing. But, what I shall never forget is the very sight of Orion, which is the name of the pointy arrow that I would see every night.
I knew I should be careful and not feel low about the many things that manage to break me, but how could I not sit and cry, when I finally found the name. Tears of what? happiness? ecstasy? because I am sure it isnt sadness, unless it is sadness so deep that it comes from some other part deep inside me.
So, I said ello to Orion, I waved a weak hand towards Gemini, I marvelled at the exquisite shape that Scorpio makes and from someone I got a whiff of a particular perfume I was hoping I would never smell again.
I am glad I went and saw. Of course it made me feel small and insignificant, but more than that it hurt me so bad, that now I am fine again.

Lion goes out of town for a month

The circus has come to town. My mum has reached her sister’s place and the house is looking neat but everything is crazy.
Food hasn’t been turning out well, and I am scared stiff about blowing up the house. Thinking about taking a rick to check that everything is aright at home. I know I sound paranoid. Wont hurt to just pop in would it? And I think I left the milk out on the table, and the muffins too. So, I can imagine dad’s expression when he comes home and sees all this. He will shake his head and proceed to undo my mistakes. Sigh.
I would be fed up with me already.
Got hurt yesterday, don’t know whether it’s serious.
And listen to this, Marjorie Orr says, "You will want luxury at home and your appetite may be more tempted than usual. What you secretly (or not so secretly) yearn for is to be applauded by everyone around."
How did she know? Which one of you squealed??? huh?

Aha, I am the fridge!

Last night, while editing an article on how to renovate your kitchen, I came across this:
"Vary your cabinet door styles to make your space more visually interesting. Also, if you find appliances to be rather unsightly, use panels that you can install to disguise these machines. Just make sure the panels match your cabinets."
!!!
Imagine the implications!!! "As the clock struck 2, Ally stumbled into the kitchen and looked for a mug for some cold milk. Suddenly, a voice rumbled, "I am the fridge."
Ally screamed in terror as the hulking shape in the corner lifted up its funny glasses and false moustache and grimaced..."

The Spikey of Life

I think I am losing my mind. It is a scary feeling.Maybe one day I won't wake up as myself. But then do I, anyway? Sometimes I feel as if putting myself to sleep is a whole lot easier than waking up. I have decided to set the alarm on the stereo, and not play Cranberries or Aerosmith first off, but maybe some John Mayer or Simply Red. That should calm me down somewhat. On the whole I find that, once I gather enough motivation from various parts of my body a hundred miles away, to open the guitar case, playing Cmajor, Eminor, A minor and rounding it off with G7 makes me feel very good. I also nod slightly, which is a positive body movement, and involuntary as well please note. An acoustical representation of Saturday and Sunday.
Some days are easier but I think the days are getting longer, the afternoons certainly seem to be longer by a few weeks surely. Everybody else gives me a startled look whenever I ask them the time and quickly pick up their cellphones and dial frantically, pretending to be in conversation so I can stop bothering them. Hm.
Met Spikey today, little rascal. She still seems to be very fascianted and hungered by the very sight of my toes. I am flattered, but she gives up easily. Wish she would play with me some more, without me having to beg.

performance evaluation

no point in pretending. there is a masochist in here alright. In fact Ms M seems to be the healthier half of me. While evaluating myself on a scale of 0-3billion, I found that I have scored plenty more than I can count when it comes to people skills (all negative though, surprisingly)
Yes, I don't do parties, I cannot drink for fun and I certainly do not gyrate the hips, my own or anyone else's. This seems to be a problem according to the others I know.
Never mind, it isnt too late apparently to join in. Sure, sure, why not. Hey, is that back door? How fascinating!

spluttering at the government

seriously. how much can one endure? I mean this question philosphically. So anyone with wise answers involving the speed of light and the pull of gravity, can please leave the room. Now.
And, this one is more mysterious, do they ever wash the buses? Or do old puke stains fade away with time and shoe marks?
Just asking.
I don't even have so much blood to spend it on boiling in anger.
Spluttering

in search of lost time

the english translation of the title of a book written in french by marcel proust.
Proust's works were explained by, dare I say it?, a friend.. there.. that's it right there, a friend, called alexander mccall smith. yes the alexander mccall smith, the author, whose words bring me such relief.
How does he do it? I don't know. Maybe it is because there are no cynics in the book. and i cannot tell you what that means to me.
I worry a lot. about everything. about germs, about accidents. i have this great, huge, embarrassingly large fear of death.
I don't know what to do about it. and until then... i read.
coming back to proust, apparently, he is very good with descriptions. I havent read him yet. have you?

scold's bridle

sometimes people hurt others by an unintended or well-planned verbal attack.
I have been the victim of many, mainly because I take everything personally. Thin skin. Everythign gets through and doesn't heal until I cry for a fortnight, buy something expensive and decide to get a dog.

I cannot explain what it is i feel when someone is rude. Why does it hurt? I know it isnt a fair world, then why do i persist in willing it to be so?

I wish I could tell them, the way they tell me, what my current state of mind is, but it never comes out, and if it does, it shouldn't have because I end up sounding infantile and pushy.

But, I have to get this out in a public space, the bathroom is not such a sacred space, since I believe that my neighbours can hear me. Yes, everything. For a year now.

blackberry

i really want to buy one. am thinking by november i should have saved up enough. why do i want a blackberry? i have no clue, must be some crazy new marketing gimmick that has worked on my subconsience coz i am not a brand crazy person at all.
and i must clear once and for all that i do things for me. not for a certain snooty somebodies.
i couldnt give a s***.
so there.

second class gents walla butterfly

as the train, i was in, pulled into the station, there was a butterfly hurrying to keep up. I stepped aside. but it didnt want to get into the first class ladies. it got into the second class gents, where i suppose it did not get a window seat.

Three traffic policemen laughed at my joke!!!

Nice day so far. went on my first assignment for my new job. this was a car rally and it was way behind schedule, my employers are sponsoring it. anyway, so i was skulking around and saw these 3 huge fellows keeping a safe distance between them and the cars... i wanted to 'get a scoop'.
went over and asked them if they thought that the drivers knew the rules... they evaded the question. i liked them very much indeed. and they didnt look at my boobs, which i must say is a First.
Anyway, we chatted and complained in an amiable manner about everybody else. i think that the reason why there are so few honest people around is becuase we dont encourage honesty. everytime i would sit to write an exam there would be those hopefuls who would try to ask me answers and i would refuse. getting out of the class after the exam would be hell, coz they would corner me and make fun of me and make me feel mierable.
what do you get for playing by the rules when no one is looking?
about the joke... it doesnt sound funny when retold unfortunately, its one of those... you had to be there...