This is not the life I ordered.
By this time I am supposed to have figured stuff out (at least most of it).
I should be lounging in my Manhattan loft, sipping on Cristal and making witty conversation with famous(ish) people.
I should not be bent over a computer, wiping the sweat off my face, waiting for my cup-o-noodles to be ready, all the while churning out mindless drivel for the most parts, chasing 2-bit companies for long overdue payments, so that I can pay some random bill, which would probably provide me with less-than average service.
Oh bleaaaaaaagh!!
Sitting at home, sick, when the TV is not working, and with no good book, to help tide over the malaise is not recommended.
Especially when there are 120 things to be done, plus work to finish.
I just always assumed, probably naively, that life would work itself out. Apparently there is some witticism about the best laid plans of mice and men...
And also apparently there is some cosmic miscommunication, because Universe, this is not what I asked for.
It’s a good thing I am not too convinced of the great presence out there, because then I would be forced to admit that somebody up there doesn’t like me, and there is no need to add to that list.
But let me clarify that I am an optimistic, sunshiny person.
Well maybe not today, but usually.
I don’t usually whinge so much, a tad high-maintenance perhaps, but am one of those complacent people, happy with the illusion that this is as good as it gets...but always hoping for better.
But then you have this damned epiphany one day! You wake up to another day of possibly unfulfilling work, meetings with unremarkable people, a long day of tiring conversations and meaningless obligations and you realise that the dream has passed and you have woken up to a mediocre reality. Even bad would be better, at least there’s drama, but mediocrity is the death of creativity, scratch that...mediocrity is the death of life, ideas, possibly the soul (philosophy class anyone?) because mediocrity is when you settle!
When you get by, when you cut off the dust ruffles to accommodate a yellowing quilt.
So while my train of thought gets disturbed by Vodafone-induced spam, I realise that there is never a point of no return.
Obamaesque shouts of hope aside, yes we can make the change we want.
I could (should) happily quit my job(s) that’s filling me with such vitriol, cut off the people sapping me of my will to live (off with their heads et al), move to Paris (because apparently in this hare-brained scheme money and bureaucracy and apparently reality play no part) or New York with my husband and enjoy the fine weather and finer company in by vintage Dior cocktail dress and wardrobe full of designer duds and runway makeup. I can almost see Parthib’s eyes roll at what he calls my ‘blonde ambitions’. He has loftier aspirations...of a sack of cash, never-ending supply of Old Monk (or the fancier Malibu) and a pet alligator.
Or I could just take a holiday (yesssssssssssss please), regroup, rewire, whatever.
But if life gets good, what ever will I bitch and moan about?
Damn the Cristal...where’s the Carlsberg when you need it?
Monday, May 17, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
To be(er) or not to be(er)
I have issues.
No not children.
Not magazine subscriptions either.
Mental problems if you will. I need to fill my days with a plan (which I probably will not see through).
Today was a very random day and I needed a plan.
No not for the day, for life (remember I have issues and also things to do before I turn 30).
So on my uncomfortable chair I sat, contemplating life- what to do with it, about it etc.
This whole spending-the-day-working-for-money is just not for me (I am a freelancer so work is what I decide to do and of late I have been deciding not to).
I hate waking up to unfinished articles, looming deadlines and long meetings. And I get so busy focussing all my energies on said work I don’t have the time to do what I really want to do.
Win the Booker for one. Although a friend suggested I should probably settle for getting a book published. But what’s the point of writing a book if you’re not gonna win a prize?
So my new thing is to try and find my Zen place.
No it’s not a potted plant.
It’s just a happier state of mind. Where the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, there’s a champagne fountain at hand and all is right with the world. It’s a place of peace and sanguinity.
Right now I am resting in a happy place. Sure, it often comes out of a little green bottle, but I’ll take what I can get.
So in my attempt to achieve Buddha-esque peace and goodness I have come up with an eight-fold path (it’s a euphemism for ‘I got another long list’).
Okay so the language is a little bit 10 Commandments meet Shakespeare, so bear with me.
1. Thou shall not be judgmental (no matter how badly she is dressed, how incorrectly he pronounces meringue and how slowly that arthritic old lady is hobbling in front of you)
2. Thou will not spend hard-earned money on cosmetics (detachment, getting rid of ego etc. unless Sephora comes to Madras...then all bets are off. PS: also it’s alright if there’s a sale)
3. Thou shall not envy others (unless he/she is a writer who lives in a castle in Europe *curses*)
4. Thou shall not curse (unless the *&#@! has a friggin’ summer house in the South of France and travels around the world...business effing class)
5. Thou shall be kind to children and not judge them...even snotty-nosed brats
6. Thou will not procrastinate (err...I’ll come back to this later)
7. Thou shall donate to charity/less fortunate/underprivileged (I am all of those, somebody who wants to reach their Zen place, please contribute)
8. Thou shall learn patience ... well since I made through the eight points, I guess I am already there.
If this divine, much thought over path is not for you, there is a one-step path to the Zen wonderland:
1. Down a crate of beer
The one-step path will also work with other intoxicating beverages that get you spiritual. Prozac might also work.
Okay so am going to start working on reaching my Zen place.
Which path to take though?
Cheers!
No not children.
Not magazine subscriptions either.
Mental problems if you will. I need to fill my days with a plan (which I probably will not see through).
Today was a very random day and I needed a plan.
No not for the day, for life (remember I have issues and also things to do before I turn 30).
So on my uncomfortable chair I sat, contemplating life- what to do with it, about it etc.
This whole spending-the-day-working-for-money is just not for me (I am a freelancer so work is what I decide to do and of late I have been deciding not to).
I hate waking up to unfinished articles, looming deadlines and long meetings. And I get so busy focussing all my energies on said work I don’t have the time to do what I really want to do.
Win the Booker for one. Although a friend suggested I should probably settle for getting a book published. But what’s the point of writing a book if you’re not gonna win a prize?
So my new thing is to try and find my Zen place.
No it’s not a potted plant.
It’s just a happier state of mind. Where the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, there’s a champagne fountain at hand and all is right with the world. It’s a place of peace and sanguinity.
Right now I am resting in a happy place. Sure, it often comes out of a little green bottle, but I’ll take what I can get.
So in my attempt to achieve Buddha-esque peace and goodness I have come up with an eight-fold path (it’s a euphemism for ‘I got another long list’).
Okay so the language is a little bit 10 Commandments meet Shakespeare, so bear with me.
1. Thou shall not be judgmental (no matter how badly she is dressed, how incorrectly he pronounces meringue and how slowly that arthritic old lady is hobbling in front of you)
2. Thou will not spend hard-earned money on cosmetics (detachment, getting rid of ego etc. unless Sephora comes to Madras...then all bets are off. PS: also it’s alright if there’s a sale)
3. Thou shall not envy others (unless he/she is a writer who lives in a castle in Europe *curses*)
4. Thou shall not curse (unless the *&#@! has a friggin’ summer house in the South of France and travels around the world...business effing class)
5. Thou shall be kind to children and not judge them...even snotty-nosed brats
6. Thou will not procrastinate (err...I’ll come back to this later)
7. Thou shall donate to charity/less fortunate/underprivileged (I am all of those, somebody who wants to reach their Zen place, please contribute)
8. Thou shall learn patience ... well since I made through the eight points, I guess I am already there.
If this divine, much thought over path is not for you, there is a one-step path to the Zen wonderland:
1. Down a crate of beer
The one-step path will also work with other intoxicating beverages that get you spiritual. Prozac might also work.
Okay so am going to start working on reaching my Zen place.
Which path to take though?
Cheers!
Monday, May 10, 2010
Of lists and listlessness
I like making lists. It gives me a sense of being in charge. That there is a plan and I am on the right track. With all the lists that I make, you would think I am superbly organised, conscientious, meticulous...I am not.
That’s because I always lose the list. So I try and wing it.
Like packing for a holiday, for instance. I make a list (and check it twice) and then lose it so I then just throw in stuff. It explains why I always forget to pack emergency tooth floss (in case I lose the first one in flight turbulence)...kidding. The emergency floss is always hidden in the pink sock.
But the point I’m trying to make is lists help me, especially since therapists charge by the hour.
Whenever I go through the “what-am-I-doing-with –my-life” phase, I make a list of all the things I should do; all the places I should visit in my lifetime; ways to rob a bank and fund my travels; books to read; books to write and all is right again. Maybe the lists distract me from the real issues (what am I doing with my life?) and by the time I’m done the momentary melancholy has passed. So recently when I was faced with life’s problems yet again, I decided to make a list that I would actually do something about.
My life of late seems to be a series of bad days trying to outdo themselves.
Seriously.
So while I’m drowning in misery and drama, life seems to have gone by, jauntily at that (please get all analogies and metaphors, otherwise my feeble attempts at being a writer would die in a glorious blaze of shame and leave me feebler still). And I’m still trying to dust off from my last fall when I suddenly realised that I am nearing 30 and not happy to die.
Okay let me clarify, I am not actually dying, but it is death...in principle, that I’m turning a ripe old age. Now before you start making judgments on me and my reluctance (read vain insecurities) at entering the dreaded thirties, that I am a superficial, almost middle-aged woman relying on looks to give meaning to life, yes you would be right! But behind the anti-aging creams and crow-feet hiding concealer, there is a sudden, almost-frenzied (read crazy) need to have something to show for before I hit that speed bump.
So I made a bucket list. Things I need to cross off before I die or hit 30 (whichever happens first).
My philosophy in life (I have a couple so brace yourselves, I know it’s presumptuous of me to address my readers in plural, when it’s probably just one loyalist, (hi Ma), but my blog, so my grammatical assumptions) is to die happy; sounds simple enough but, in actuality, quite a mean feat to achieve. How many of us, if we die today/tomorrow, will go content, having achieved all that we had set out to, or at least part of it?
I don’t even know all that I want to achieve, so here’s my list of things I need to do (I will most certainly be adding to the list):
1. Go to Paris
2. Learn a language or more accurately finish learning a language
3. Drive (go beyond first gear)
4. Live abroad
5. Swim in the deep end
6. Learn patience
7. Finish all the books I’ve been meaning to read (a separate list)
8. Get fit
9. Learn to have faith (in people/beliefs/universe) something
10. Own something valuable (land/house/car/puppy/Macbook Pro/iPad)
11. Start a blog (Yay I can cross one thing off; one step closer to dying happy! )
12. Win the Booker (this probably means I have to get serious about the whole writing thing)
So apparently I have 575 days, which is one year, six months and twenty-six days to achieve all that I have set out to achieve.
Good luck to me!
That’s because I always lose the list. So I try and wing it.
Like packing for a holiday, for instance. I make a list (and check it twice) and then lose it so I then just throw in stuff. It explains why I always forget to pack emergency tooth floss (in case I lose the first one in flight turbulence)...kidding. The emergency floss is always hidden in the pink sock.
But the point I’m trying to make is lists help me, especially since therapists charge by the hour.
Whenever I go through the “what-am-I-doing-with –my-life” phase, I make a list of all the things I should do; all the places I should visit in my lifetime; ways to rob a bank and fund my travels; books to read; books to write and all is right again. Maybe the lists distract me from the real issues (what am I doing with my life?) and by the time I’m done the momentary melancholy has passed. So recently when I was faced with life’s problems yet again, I decided to make a list that I would actually do something about.
My life of late seems to be a series of bad days trying to outdo themselves.
Seriously.
So while I’m drowning in misery and drama, life seems to have gone by, jauntily at that (please get all analogies and metaphors, otherwise my feeble attempts at being a writer would die in a glorious blaze of shame and leave me feebler still). And I’m still trying to dust off from my last fall when I suddenly realised that I am nearing 30 and not happy to die.
Okay let me clarify, I am not actually dying, but it is death...in principle, that I’m turning a ripe old age. Now before you start making judgments on me and my reluctance (read vain insecurities) at entering the dreaded thirties, that I am a superficial, almost middle-aged woman relying on looks to give meaning to life, yes you would be right! But behind the anti-aging creams and crow-feet hiding concealer, there is a sudden, almost-frenzied (read crazy) need to have something to show for before I hit that speed bump.
So I made a bucket list. Things I need to cross off before I die or hit 30 (whichever happens first).
My philosophy in life (I have a couple so brace yourselves, I know it’s presumptuous of me to address my readers in plural, when it’s probably just one loyalist, (hi Ma), but my blog, so my grammatical assumptions) is to die happy; sounds simple enough but, in actuality, quite a mean feat to achieve. How many of us, if we die today/tomorrow, will go content, having achieved all that we had set out to, or at least part of it?
I don’t even know all that I want to achieve, so here’s my list of things I need to do (I will most certainly be adding to the list):
1. Go to Paris
2. Learn a language or more accurately finish learning a language
3. Drive (go beyond first gear)
4. Live abroad
5. Swim in the deep end
6. Learn patience
7. Finish all the books I’ve been meaning to read (a separate list)
8. Get fit
9. Learn to have faith (in people/beliefs/universe) something
10. Own something valuable (land/house/car/puppy/Macbook Pro/iPad)
11. Start a blog (Yay I can cross one thing off; one step closer to dying happy! )
12. Win the Booker (this probably means I have to get serious about the whole writing thing)
So apparently I have 575 days, which is one year, six months and twenty-six days to achieve all that I have set out to achieve.
Good luck to me!
This round’s on me
Finally I’m blogging. After years of thinking about it, I decided to finally let the world read what’s on my mind...don’t say I didn’t warn you. So before you get all Freud on me and try to figure out all the deep-seated issues that resulted in Make that a Largefinding way into the blog’s URL, let me explain it’s a metaphor for well ...nothing, except that if you want to do something, supersize it, and also if you’re ordering a drink, make it a large!
So salud!
Other names included On the Couch (you know the whole shrink-couch cliché, but someone had already taken it...boo),Bleaaagh, but since that’s going to be the opening sentiment in most of the entries, I figured the point would come across.
So if you really don’t want to know what I did, ate, drank, saw, read, wrote, felt like, then you might want to skip this blog and have yourself a nice day.
Those of you who also don’t want to know what I did, ate, drank, saw, read, wrote, felt like, but don’t have anything else to do...read on. Cheers!
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