Friendship Fears

I am extremely tired to write this post but I have to. I actually ended up sleeping through the whole night and it is 7:45am now and I cannot believe that I did this. I would have normally woken up in the middle of the night, remembering that I had to write. But this time, it seems like I completely collapsed and slept, out of control. But I only have myself to blame, I have put off some very clear warning signs by my body in favour of getting some work done. It is only expected that my body would pull a rebellion and shut down. But this sleep felt quite great, I was plagued by dreams (which I don’t remember much of), but it was a long, sustained sleep. My only horror was I had left my laptop open here and I hadn’t finished the post. But I guess I will just post this at a different time than right now. But I just wanted to mention that I screwed up, a bit.

The day was pretty great and there were many moments when I was filled with a deep appreciation for my friends. Especially one of my closest friends, because of the amount of nice things he did for me that day. It is quite funny, he is as ruthless as a sibling, never holds back from the snark and sarcasm, is genuinely excited by gossip and knowing about my crush and what’s happening, is extremely annoyed and makes it known when I skip meals or behave as a general bad child. He reminds me of my mother sometimes, especially today, because my mother has this way of scolding me but still saving my pathetic derriere, because that is of prime importance. Anyway, he got me breakfast (because I nearly skipped it), cleared my desk space up because he thought it was too cluttered (and it is actually so neat right now!), came to see if I was having dinner because I had messaged him about feeling slightly sick and he gave me such a look when I said I probably might not go for dinner and he actually managed to convince me to have dinner and dragged me along. How will I survive university without him now, that is the question.

And it is not just him who is this wholesome, it is about all of my friends. I cannot believe that I have created for myself this circle of friends who are all lovely creatures, who seem to care for me and help me at multiple points in life. I have people to hug, to cherish, to love, and it is a wonderful feeling, I love them all from all of my heart. It is times like these that the pain of an unread snap or an ignored message does not pinch as much. There will be more people in the future, hopefully. It doesn’t do for me to forget what I have already in the pursuit of something that may never be. And it hurts to come to terms with this, this idea of finality, almost. Maybe there was a small corner of my heart which had hoped its wish will come true (read, quite a big corner of my heart, actually). I think the hardest part to deal with was the fact that communication still kinda happens between us and I invest myself in it a lot more than he seems to do. But once again, it is friends to the rescue, they keep me away from my maudlin moods, most of the time at least. Head pats, hugs, calm, soothing and kind words, and sometimes, just the pleasure of company that exists for its own sake, that’s what I have come to get from these friendships. Is that true friendship? Why should I/Why do I even want to qualify something that I find absolutely beautiful?

Now, here’s the fear, the end of these friendships when they realise that I probably may not be a deserving recipient of their love. This fear is legitimate, it is scary, because it runs from a deep insecurity about my own worthlessness in this world. It also affects the way I look at romance, it drives home a narrative that I shall never be worthy of love, no one is obviously going to like me. So, when someone seems to show no interest, I am not surprised, I was expecting it. Maybe this colours my perception in other places, where someone might actually show an interest in me, I would very well just brush it off (as of now, no one, but maybe in the future?) Anyway, it is a fear I have held for the longest time, that there is nothing great about me that will hold my friends to me. So I have to prove my worth at every junction, so that all will be fine and dandy. Also, now that I have proudly proclaimed my friends and how nice they are, I am also afraid I shall jinx it. Why are there so many issues that I build up around everything?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Sleepy Words

How does one draw the line where they become desperate and clingy and when they give the other person the space they need? It is actually something I am struggling with at the moment with the status with C and so on. So a friend of mine tells me that I should not respond to messages immediately, belying a sense of eagerness. I should instead be keen on giving an impression of being slightly aloof, not enough to seem like I am not interested, but enough to not seem like I am obsessing over the person (and well, it is quite common knowledge that I am obsessing over the guy so much) and being too eager. It is a tricky conundrum no doubt, one that definitely left me feeling extremely confused over where I stood in the bigger picture.

But anyway, moving away from ponderations of this kind, I have increasingly been falling asleep while doing my work. It has been happening much too often now that I am once again reminded of the time last semester when I would fall asleep in the oddest of positions, at the oddest of hours and then wake up and write my half-finished blog post and fall asleep again. I remember feeling perennially tired during that time and that is somewhat similar to what is happening right now. But I am hoping I don’t push myself to the lunatic limits I employes last semester. But going by how early in this semester it is and how I am already losing my mind over everything, I will not be surprised, if this semester ends up stressing me out more than I ever thought possible. I dread it, but I am also weirdly resigned to it and of the opinion that I shall cross that bridge when I get there. In retrospect, that is really not a great survival strategy but it is one I shall reluctantly adopt at the present moment.

When I read the last few stuff I have written, I can visibly point out the places where I sound similar to the theorists we have been reading in our Literary Theory course. This is not a good thing because they write in the densest language I have ever seen. They could use perfectly comprehendible words but still make as much sense as an old lady without her fake teeth. And if someone were to ask me why they did that, I wouldn’t know. I am only influenced by their style of writing and unconsciously aping them, I don’t understand the mental processes that created that. Moreover, it is a little too much to ask of me to explain that, when at the most basic level, I cannot explain myself and why I am aping their style. Now, one can also be extremely mean (or teasing) and come up with a convincing case for why the way I have written is not in a style similar to those theorists I have read. I shall only nod my head in agreement, sing a little tune and buzz away to do something more worth my time, which is, at the present moment, sleeping. After all, sleep trumps all, right?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Complicated Ordinariness and Extraordinariness

Today was probably one of the most unproductive days I have had in the recent past and that is saying a lot because my whole summer was a case study in unproductivity. But nevertheless, unproductivity is more starkly noticed when you have something to be productive about but you fail at that. I had a lot of work that I had to get done today but I did not get it done and now, I am quite obviously paying the price as I sit here, trying desperately to fight sleep (though I don’t know why I am this sleepy despite the fact that I slept a lot) and try and get something at least done. But I think that is going to fail, so I might as well just sleep after this blog post.

Which brings me to another thing that I worry about, this blog. I am afraid of how I shall maintain this blog as the semester progresses. It is just the first week, one of my professors is not even here yet so her class hasn’t started yet, and I am already drowning under the workload. I am not exactly very confident of the fact that I can do this, but I do know that I have gotten through this (if not exactly, but still a form of this) before and I have the strength within me for that. All I have to do is find it and channel it properly and pray that I become a great person as an added bonus. Sometimes I wonder if there is anything I can do to make me a great person and not generally meh. I don’t necessarily think that being ordinary or average is bad (regardless of the baggage that the terms generally come with). But I cannot help but wonder how different it would have been if I were not so, if there was something extraordinary, if you will, about me. It is not exactly a very great doubt to have because it throws my self-esteem into jeopardy almost all the time. And my self-esteem is not the greatest anyway. So you take something that was already at level -1 and send it on to level -6 or something.

That reminds me, I have still not received a reply from him and well, I don’t know how to deal with it, to be honest. I don’t want to give myself hope only for it to come crashing down, so right now, I am focussing on not thinking about these kinds of things. Because when you like someone or have a crush on someone, you do tend to become quite obsessed with them. For me, this physical distance means that I have to try and not let that obsession anywhere near me because it is pointless and shall never achieve fruition. I am just really afraid because I have never really dealt with things like this before. The one time before this, I had too much going on, too much was at stake. And well, as I had written, I moved on and maybe that’s what will happen with this one too. But right now, hope is the cheeky thing that continues to flutter here and there inside my mind and well, as pleasant as the feeling is, the after-effects is something I don’t think I want to put myself through (they do say that romance is intoxicating).

But anyway, aside from that, I have been sleeping a lot lately. I don’t even know why I sleep so much or why I feel so sleepy all the time. The last couple of days, I have not been able to sleep properly because there were too many things running on my mind. As they continue to do, even right now. There are too many thoughts that are fighting for attention, to be called to be typed out onto the screen. I am afraid of my classes, if I will be able to do good enough in them for my professors to like me and think of me as a worthy student. Does that make me ‘brown-nosed’? I don’t really know, because I would not equate wanting to be liked by professors to stupidly slaving away for them and saying a ‘yes’ to everything they say or do. I don’t think that’s how I want to be liked by them. I would much rather have them like me as a consequence of my smartness. But I am ordinary after all, so there’s that dilemma. Why is everything in life so complicated?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Sickness and Minor Confusions

I am sick today and I am already thinking about how much work I have. This semester is already proving to be much harder than my other semesters (or maybe it feels that way because I had an extremely lazy summer where I did nothing productive at all). But regardless, the fact remains that I feel like I am going to get crushed under the work I have. I have readings to do right now and I also have a meeting in another half an hour. I have to take a shower before that because I have an 8:30 class in the morning. But having this much work to do is also refreshing for a change, I just wish I was in better health to better handle my crises. But the first week is not even done yet, now is not the time to crib and cry about my workload. I just have to wait until I am past the midterm before the actual trouble starts.

Right now though, my worries are primarily about keeping up with the coursework and also to write this blog and handle my club commitments and my music. It sounds like a lot but I am hoping I have the strength to pull through without permanently damaging my grades for the rest of my time here at Ashoka. I have also been thinking about a change in my minor, I am half-way through a minor in sociology/anthropology, but I had been quite sure that I would prefer to have a minor in creative writing. But I have also been thinking that I can always do creative writing courses and well, I don’t need a course to write. Of course, it would help me develop as a writer, but constant writing and reading and editing shall also help me. Besides, the creative writing minor is a privilege that many writers have probably never had. Anyway, that is if I want to become a writer. If I don’t want to, that’s going to be a different question altogether.

I have done courses in sociology/anthropology and they are pretty good and well, they do complement an English major quite well. My TA from last semester had actually written in her comments for my final paper that she hoped I would choose sociology/anthropology up as a minor, if not a major. And well, I don’t necessarily hate it. On the contrary, I think it is very interesting, except that the faculty at Ashoka are probably not the best for the discipline in the university. But that’s alright, the faculty are still good enough and well, a lot of these courses are cross-listed with other major courses, so we might actually have other faculty professors taking the course. regardless, I am at a very confused state of mind and I am hoping this semester shall give me a better understanding of what I want. At the moment, I am as clueless as I can be.

But as some sort of consolation for myself, I do happen to like my Literature courses (and mind you, we have had only one class so far and my idea of it is not very strong). Added to that is the fact that people seem to think that I am suited to be a literature student. I am very flattered by that because I have spent all of my first year at Ashoka wondering if I am suited for it. People seem to think so, and I am extremely glad for the trust and belief. All that remains to happen is me taking on to that same belief. But it is quite hard, especially with exceptionally brilliant people in the class. But I am hoping that their presence would only make me a better student rather than push me down the road to hating myself due to comparisons. Now I have a meeting to run to, so I shall have to run to take a shower and get there. I shall be able to navigate this semester, won’t I?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Disappointment Luggage

My luggage finally made it today morning and I was excited to unpack all my stuff. But my Kindle is missing, one of my suitcases had been tampered with and doesn’t have a lock now, and it has a broken zip. My Kindle had been inside that suitcase and now it is not there. I cannot help but think that it had been stolen. I had very specifically mentioned the Kindle to the airport staff, I had told them that I needed my Kindle for my work, but it evidently did not make a positive difference. It made a negative one instead, I don’t even know where it could have been taken out of my bag. the bags also came covered in plastic wrap, which I had been (and I am ashamed to admit this) impressed by. But I did not anticipate that it would have hidden such an insidious secret.

I am done with unpacking my stuff, I have put them all away quite neatly in my room. What remains is to decorate my board and walls. My chocolates were mostly ruined and that really broke my heart. I had been talking about disappointments yesterday and today, I faced a high level of disappointment. I mean, this was probably higher than seeing my grades in a course I had honestly wanted to do well in, for which I really had worked as hard as I could. But anyway, what’s done is done, I have written an email again to the airlines. I had called them and they were extremely unhelpful, they had no answers and asked me to write an email to the email ID they provided instead. The only thing I can console myself with is the fact that they at least gave me the email ID. If they had not given me even that, I would have been extremely angry.

I had finished unpacking and arranging the stuff from my locker yesterday, so when my luggage finally made it, I already had an idea of where the new things would fit in. And when my luggage came, I was able to fit the stuff in without much ado. I had only slept for three and a half hours that night because the airlines courier called me at 6:30am in the morning to inquire about my address. I was shaken out of my slumber (I am glad I woke up though because I have a tendency to sleep through literally anything) and in my sleepy state, I understood even lesser Hindi than I otherwise would. But I was able to make out that he wanted directions and I told him to give me ten minutes while I go to the gate and have the security bhaiya speak to him instead. I am forever indebted to the bhaiyas at the gate because they really helped me. My bags finally made it at 8pm.

Once I got my stuff back to my room, I first checked my stuff, spoke to my parents and then threw my stuff back inside the suitcase and collapsed on the bed to sleep. I was tired, as I am right now and I wanted nothing more than to just sleep. I planned to wake up in an hour and get to breakfast, but I slept for two hours and could not get to breakfast. But nonetheless, I was able to get some sleep, much like what I need right now. I am exhausted beyond words at the moment, but I take heart from the fact that I have unpacked my room and there is not much work for me left to do. Only a day more for the first day of classes. I shall do fine and not be disappointed, right?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Trip Day 4

Ah, Disneyland, what can I say about it? There were too many things I wanted to do today and very little that I managed to do. Disneyland, during peak vacation time, is a nightmare. I got tired just because of standing in hour-long waiting queues (and also because my period started today). It was not a disappointing day but I just could not help but wish I had more time on my hands and fewer people on the streets. It was an absolute nightmare to get on any ride, I could not even see the parade properly because of the crowds, could not get on many of the rides I wanted to go on (including kiddy rides, cruises and the train). I want to go again, though I don’t know when I shall get the opportunity again. 

My uncle was the one driving the car and he is quite a sombre person, very serious and well, we had to get back to Belgium today, so he had a pretty long drive to go. He did not come to Disneyland with us, choosing instead to go to a mall, because his wife and son weren’t here with us to enjoy the place. So it was just my parents, my brother and I who went on to Disneyland. And we did take quite a bit of time, we could have potentially annoyed him quite a bit. That’s the thing, as a family, we are all quite “scared” of him or at least slightly wary of him because he is quite aloof sometimes. But then, to each his own, I guess, and he is quite a nice person after all. 

Disneyland is wonderful, the aesthetics are on point, there is so much just to look at and see, so many characters to meet (again, something I could not do), so many rides to go on, and so many places to eat in and buy merchandise in. I bought the quintessential Disneyland visit headpiece, the one with the two Mickey Mouse ears and the bow in between. I have seen many people have those in remembrance of their trip to Disneyland and now I have added myself to the ranks. Moreover, the black velvety headpiece went wonderfully well with my curly black hair (which was slightly shiny and quite pretty today). I felt great (aside from the gradually progressing cramps).

We went inside the park and got our maps (this was important because I am collecting those things for myself) and proceeded to go to Frontierland. We got on a cruise at Frontierland (a 20 minute cruise that had a pretty decent wait time of 15 minutes). This was a very leisurely ride that we all enjoyed. Once we got down, we made our way to a rollercoaster called Thunder Mountain, but there was a waiting time of 45 minutes. So we decided to try our luck elsewhere in other rides, got a Fastpass instead and made our way ahead. Our Fastpass ticket was at 4:30 in the evening and we had roughly 4.5 hours with us to look at other stuff. We underestimated everything. 

We next went to Adventureland, where again, I wanted to go to a lot of places but we  could not get everywhere. We went on a watery ride from Pirates of the Caribbean, explored a pirate hideout (with caves, waterloos, etc), climbed a treehouse, and then we were exhausted from all the walking around. It was difficult to find our bearings, and sometimes we’d get lost or go on a wild goose chase and get completely exhausted. By this time, my legs were starting to hurt and my cramps were getting slowly worse. 

We next made our way to Fantasyland, which was the land I really wanted to explore. But the map said it was a lot of kiddy rides (I disagree, carousels and miniature fairy tales are for everyone!) and my parents didn’t really let me do much there. We walked around (as we did everywhere else), looking at queues (which all had a minimum wait time of 45 minutes), and moving on ahead. We didn’t even get to see any of the programmes at the theatres, I was sad. My uterus decided then was a good time to start its work of pushing out itself. I was getting moodier by the second. And nothing could be done about it. 

Our next stop was Discoveryland, the final land at Disneyland. We braved an hour long queue and got on a ride called Star Tours. This was absolutely brilliant, it felt so real and thrilling, even though we physically didn’t not exactly move anywhere. It was a 4D experience, the “spaceship” tumbled around, it really felt like we were taking a trip into outer space. This was a wonderful attraction we were glad we went to. We then went to this ride called Autopia, where we rode mini cars through a course with a mini traffic signal, a mini-highway, we rode through a forest area, etc. It was fun, and I really do love driving. I cannot wait to actually get a license for myself, it would be great to learn to drive.

Once we were done here, we once again walked all the way to Frontierland to use our fastness ticket and get to the ride faster. It was another brilliant ride, a rollercoaster that thrust us into the dark in a few places, sudden drops and twists and turns and halts, it was fun. We realised that we should get fastness tickets from then onwards, if we go there another time. My mother did promise us saying that we could go on a Europe trip next summer, stay for a few more days in France, take a multiple entry pass into Disneyland and explore every ride properly. Maybe we could go in June, instead of August, though it is too far off for me to think about right now. It has been an exhausting day, we travel back to the UK tomorrow. With my period, I should be fine, right? 

And that’s my memory for the day.

Trip Day 3

I hate the inevitable exhaustion and pain and suffering that travel entails, my feet are aching and no amount of pressing or massaging does anything for it. My head is aching, in fact, my whole body aches from the exhaustion and I am so close to completely collapsing and falling asleep. Of course, this is where my blog comes into the picture and I am sitting here, in Paris, at 1:50am at night, having just come to our accommodation from an exhausting day trip, ready to sleep. In fact, I am going to stop this blog post right here and update it later. I will, won’t I?

I did, I have come back to edit this post today, it is 12 am and I am as exhausted as can be. But today’s experiences are for another blog post altogether. I need to finish this post first. But before that, I feel the need to share a beautiful picture of the Eiffel Tower. Well, it is by no means a great picture probably, but the beauty of the tower should hopefully make up for my non-existent photography skills. The tower is marvellous, it completely had me under its spell, I could not take my eyes off it, or off the view that it provided me. I got the opportunity to go to the summit and even though I froze because of the cold, fast wind that blew up there, and there were too many people and too little space, I still would consider it the highlight of my trip. After all, it is not very often that people get to visit the Eiffel Tower (except maybe if you lived in Paris, but then, why would you want to go there every day? The cost would be insane)

The day started when we left the house in the morning to drive to Paris. I had course registration that morning, but I could not do it. Instead, I had asked a senior to do it for me and he did it, even though I did not exactly get my first preference in one course. But that doesn’t matter because I got a place with another professor offering the same course, and well, my friends also moved here because of a multitude of reasons (one of them could have been yours truly), so I have my fingers crossed for a good semester. The course I am most excited for though is this course on Language politics and linguistic anthropology in South Asia, with a professor I adored last semester. Now I get to have another class with her, in a very small capacity (only 16 people in the course). She is brilliant and well, I cannot wait for the class. She is a visiting professor and her return this semester had been quite a question mark until recently, but I am glad (super happy) that she is back. This time, my week is slightly better distributed, with a little more breathing time than usual. All my courses are intensive though, more intensive than the last semester, so I only hope this semester goes well.

Back to the trip, we went to Paris and my uncle dropped us off at the Louvre Museum. And what a museum it was! Humongous, filled with artistic treasures from as early as 4000 BC, it was the one museum that I shall not forget for a very long time. Of course, the Mona Lisa is there but I actually did not spend much time near it, nor did I take any photos. It was quite weird for my parents who didn’t really see the point of the museum, “it’s all only pictures and statues,” they said. But I did not know how to explain it to them, in a way they could comprehend, that I found meaning and joy in looking at those pictures and sculptures. I tried though, I made sure to tell them stories from the Roman and Greek mythology that were being depicted in some sculptures, the Biblical stories (even though I myself know VERY LITTLE) that inspired some paintings, etc. I think, compared to the last time they had been here (alone, for an exam my mother had to give in France), this time they were able to better appreciate the artistic genius they were witnessing. And well, even if they don’t really get why I was so excited about the museum, at least they were able to enjoy parts of it because I was there.

Tired, after nearly 5.5 hours walking around the museum (my feet had died and been resurrected so many times, they deserved a few paintings of their own), we made our way to the metro station to get tickets to go to the Arc de Triomphe. It was a station called Charles de Gaulle (I simply don’t know how to pronounce these things) that we had to get down at, from the station near the museum (I forgot its name and don’t really want to google it at the middle of the night, I have another post to write). After a brief struggle trying to explain to the ticket guy what we wanted tickets for, we finally got our tickets (even the ones to get to our accommodation) and boarded the metro. For someone who had really seen quite a lot of the London Underground, this metro was way different. From the seats, to the setting, to the languages spoken, to the announcements (or their non-existence), everything was a brand new experience. I think I prefer the London Underground though. When we did get to the Arc de Triomphe, we did not climb up because the queue was too long and we also wanted to get to the Eiffel Tower. Moreover, there was a parade at the foot of the arch, so we turned tail (after a few photographs, of course) and made our way to the station to get to Bir Hakeim, the station for the Eiffel Tower.

There were some issues with the train tickets, I might have experienced a mild form of racism at the enquiry counter, and a few other things happened. But I don’t really see the point of letting those minor things get in the way of the ultimate beauty and brilliance of the tower and my experience of it. I got the opportunity to eat a pain au chocolat (it was super nice, fluffy and soft and flaky all together) and that was a good experience too (though I wish I could have had the opportunity and the culinary tolerance to try different other things from French cuisine). The line at the tower was too long though, my already dead legs put up a very brave fight until the very end, but they died as soon as I could get back to where we were staying. We went to the summit, taking two lifts to get there, but on the way down, we got down to the second floor and climbed down on foot. This was a very interesting experience and I am sure I would have enjoyed it better had my legs not been that close to giving way. In fact, the last few steps, I nearly collapsed because my legs did give way. When I finally got to the place we were staying (the train back to the accommodation place was beautiful!), I collapsed. That was the end and that’s when I started this post. Now I have another post to write for today, I shall be able to do that, won’t I?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Anxieties and Heat

It is quite funny that I almost forgot that I had to write in my blog today. Sometimes it feels like I have made this blog up in my head and that I actually have not written every day. I open my blog when I feel like that, almost like I am trying to reassure and convince myself that I actually have written in this blog all these days. I think the fear also stems from the fact that I will be going to this camp for the whole of next week, which could mean that I would have to type my posts on my phone, on data, after exhausting days. I am terrified about the prospect of not being able to post here every day. I am anxious about it, more than I care to admit.

I had to pack for the camp, but I have not even properly started yet. My mother is going to have a fit when she finds out, but I think I can handle it and manage to pack everything tomorrow. The problem is, I need to convince my mother of that. All this packing reminds me of last year, when I had to pack and move into my college. It had been a terrifying experience, as well as an exciting one. I was alone, my mother wasn’t there in India when I was leaving for college, so most of my packing was done with help from my grandparents and by myself. My father had been as useful as the label my grandfather stuck on my suitcase, to identify it. But I still had managed to transport myself to college and set up my room, all by myself, my brother and father simply coming to help me carry the suitcases and for the baggage allowance they got.

I remember my feelings on the day of moving in with astonishing clarity, so much so that I wonder if I am making up some of my memories of the day. I won’t be surprised, especially after I learnt about the concept of memories not being completely trustworthy. It is a very fascinating thing because it destroys one of the key aspects of this blog itself, the idea of memories recollected and stories told. But if there’s anything my one year at college has taught me, it is to be at peace with conflict, to accept it, allow it to mould and change your life as you please, to simply live with it. It is quite a wonderful thing, once you stop attaching so much value to your beliefs, you start to be more at peace with potential ideas and thoughts that could topple them. But then, even that is a belief of mine, and if something topples that, if I am peace with that, did it even get toppled in the first place. Is this getting too meta?

I was editing and rewriting my story today, I have removed a huge part of the story as a whole and added a completely new part to it. It stands at a proud 3150 words–the word limit was 3000, but surely 150 words is not that big a transgression. The day had been unbearably hot, my whole body felt claustrophobic inside the house, but there was nothing I could do. It was only in the evening when some slight respite came in the form of rain. But even then, the heat has gone down only a little bit, the humidity is making my whole scalp itchy and I feel like sitting in a bucket of ice. But that is a drastic step best reserved for some time in the far future (read, never). But nonetheless, the heat reminds me of home, even though we are better prepared for the heat back there than we are here. The temperature predictions for the next two days is cooler, hopefully the weather shall follow the rules. It will, right?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Vulnerable Farces and Phases

I am still in that place of utter exhaustion and I feel tired to the deepest parts of my bones. But I am forcing myself to stay awake for this, so that I can finish this and go to sleep, for a good eight hours or so straight. I don’t have college tomorrow, which is both a good and bad thing. The good thing about it is that I get time to rest and relax, refresh myself after a hectic week of travel and study. But the bad part is, because I “don’t have any work”, I am left with a lot of time on my hands to wonder and ponder, and overthinking is the bane of my existence. But here, this overthinking gets in the way of the time I am supposed to be utilising to work on my assignments for my course. I haven’t even completely thought about my idea for my paper yet, my creative piece is a scary one, as in, it terrifies me because I don’t know if I want to use it or not. My friend thought it was fine and I would like to trust his opinion, especially because it has served me well on many occasions, but fear is a stupid and irrational thing.

There is something vulnerable in the act of writing something and putting it out there for someone else to see. This is not so just for a personal, private email or text message, but also the case for something like this blog post. This whole blog, for example, is a series of my own vulnerabilities, a vulnerability every day. When I write these posts, I go purely on my stream of conscious, with little to no editing. Once I have typed this word here, I don’t go back, especially if I have finished that one sentence or idea I intended to say. For me, this raises so many questions, for, in my vulnerability, I designate a very specific kind of readership. But I don’t know what or who comprise that readership. It could be people who just chanced upon my blog, people who read the blog regularly, people who pop their head in once in a while, just to say hi and read what’s new that month, or people who never come here at all. But which of these groups is the group I am looking for? I really don’t know, I am ill-possessed to figure out an answer.

I am realising that in my sleepy state, half the words I am saying make absolutely no sense. It is all just words and punctuation, coming together to make grammatical sense (kind of), but that which my brain is unable to comprehend. Anyway, that vulnerability is something that I have recently felt a lot in all my interactions with everyone. This fear of, what exactly, I cannot pinpoint, but a fear nonetheless. There is a fear that covers itself over everything I do, it is like this sudden atmosphere of smoke developed around my asthma-afflicted lungs. While others seem to be doing fine, doing great actually, I feel like I am in this pit, this bottomless pit in which I am constantly falling but also simultaneously not in motion. There is a word going around that I can get out of it, but the truth is, it is a farce. I am a farce, just like everything around me is. I will be able to end this phase, won’t I?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Tracing My History (Slightly)

I realised something just a couple of minutes back. I am old, I have grown old, I am growing older by the second. It may not seem like that big a deal, after all, eighteen is not conventionally considered to be ‘old age’. By many people’s standards, I am still quite young. But what brought about this sudden thought was when I was playing Club Penguin’s Card Jitsu, and I realised, I no longer understood the nuances and the tricks of the game. I had been quite unbeatable once upon a time, moving from belt to belt with amazing speed, becoming a ninja in all the three, snow, water, and snow card Jitsu games. But now, I lost 5 times consecutively, a fact that does nothing to soothe my already precariously placed ego.

I also realised one more thing, that as a side effect of growing up and doing more grown-up things, I also get tired easily. Even right now, I am yawning for every sentence that I type, exhaustion has become such a common part of life. I cannot remember when it was last that I had a deep, long sleep (that’s a lie written to paint a romanticised picture, I definitely slept during the weekend). But nonetheless, I definitely believe that my younger me had a lot more energy to spare than I do at the moment. Tomorrow is a big day at college, and I want to be well-rested for a day that is no doubt going to be extremely tiring. It is for that exact same reason that I am almost tempted to end this post right here, right now.

But I do need to have at least 300 words, for the sake of my own fragile sense of self-accomplishment. So I will talk about myself, or my entry into this world of blogs. I started my first blog back when I was 14, on Blogger. My parents had been worried that I was on the way to depression, they were thinking of trying to find some therapy for me. But first, my mother had a very long talk with me, where we talked about a lot of things. It was a conversation that really helped me air out my grievances, to understand a bit more of the world. I had been home during that time because school was on leave due to the Puja Holidays (a holiday of ten days or so, generally during mid-October, during the time of Navratri). So I decided to spontaneously start a blog, to write about what I understood and learnt during my conversation.

It had been a time when I was on no kind of social media whatsoever. I had been a most obedient child, believing from the bottom of my heart, the repercussions and the negatives of social media. I was a scaredy cat, I was afraid of social media. In fact, the first time I created a FaceBook profile, I had been terrified. But I gradually overcame that, now I cannot imagine a life without social media. Anyway, when I started my blog, the absence of a social media presence made me feel like I had no one to read my blog. This is also one of the places where my childhood friend played a huge part. She was the first one who read my blog, the first one who commented about it to me and made my day. And then, college meant that I just couldn’t find the time to write anything there. Moreover, I started this blog, started out as a therapeutic exercise, one that has no doubt helped me, if not according to visible, conventional criteria, but a different, but good one nonetheless. Sometimes, these kinds of things that happen away from plans turn out to be the most valuable, right?

And that’s my memory for the day.

PS: With that, I am off to bed–sleep and a comfortable bed beckon me