Navigating Solutions and Darkness

You found the things that make a man?" "Yes!" "How did you find out what they were?" The Wintersmith proudly told her about the children, while Tiffany breathed carefully, forcing herself to relax. His logic was very…logical. After all, if a carrot and two pieces of coal can make a heap of snow a snowman, then a big bucket of salts and gases and metal should certainly make him a human. It made…sense. At least, sense to the Wintersmith. "But, you see, you need to know the whole song," said Tiffany. "It is mostly only about what humans are made of. It isn't about what humans are." "There were some things that I could not find," said the Wintersmith. "They made no sense. They had no substance." "Yes," said Tiffany, nodding sadly. "The last three lines, I expect, which are the whole point. I'm really sorry about that." "But I will find them," said the Wintersmith. "I will!" &

So I got home from the vet's and was immediately hit with a combination of bone-deep exhaustion, depression and paranoia. While the two former items may be combated by sinking into a deep, thankless sleep punctuated by various nightmares, the latter puts you in a state of hyper-awareness and your body basically refuses to relax even a little bit. So... you know, fun. Something every therapist has remarked on is my self awareness. Somehow, it slows down the effects of my brain being bonkers (with stuff like hypersensitivity). Unfortunately, it also means that the paranoia train travelling full speed westwards meets the rationality train travelling full speed eastwards. And not being content with colliding, these two trains then continue to ram into each other like excitable billy goats. Or wildebeest. Fun. On a lighter note, I got to administer cat medicine via needle-less syringe, so that was actually quite fun. (Not the part where the kitten jumped in surprise and scra

Sometimes I find myself grateful for the strangest things.  I found myself grateful that, only a short while ago, someone stopped talking to me. They claimed that I was taking my "hatred of men" out on them, even though I never once initiated a conversation on a controversial topic. When they actively solicited my opinion, knowing already that it's not going to be some ego-cushioning slaves-and-grapes fantasy, I'm not sure what else they expected. When they themselves said the words, "You know I don't have a leg to stand on in this argument," I'm not sure what they were looking for.  If you don't have the facts, and you don't have the research, and you already know you're on the wrong side of this argument, what do you expect from me in that moment? To say that I am, in the face of all evidence, wrong? That they're right, or great, or good?  Man, I don't know. I'm just grateful that they went away, and took the

The lies spread out  Rooted deep upholding  A strong, strong tree/ Planted Years in advance In a spring  I slumbered through A summer I was blind to/ O How the lies they flourished  In the face of trustful sleep  But O Farmer, Farmer Farmer of lies/ Did you think Trespassing w ould be so easy  For the dogs slept summer's heat  Away In the house/ Sheltered quiet  And sated/ But you h ave wakened them  Now they chafe  At chains unseen/ Torn 'twixt Duty and red mists descending  Howling their fury  Under a watchful moon They chafe and bide  O Weaver, Weaver Weaver of lies  Your tapestry is poor Its colours washed out Frayed threads praying That the world may never  Take o ne step closer  They'd see your tales  Sport broken spines  They'd know the jelly Like ooze of scum beneath  O Mason, Mason Builder of castles  Of Deception suspended  Amongst the clouds/ Don't you see  Your work hurtle  To the ground/ A ball  Of molten deri

First they came for the spark The twinkle in my eye  Reflecting off what I saw  Deep within a soul I called my own  Then they came For the interesting man They stripped him of his sheen Merciless in their duty/ They Came for him/ And I let them They came for his love His sincerity/ His laughter They mocked his existence I dared not speak up  They came for the soldier  For reliability/ For warmth  For all that was left/ Just the cold  Cold rain on my skin  And a memory I guarded fierce  Behind lips sewn into silence  They came for the ancient tree They came for his spine  They broke me and I sat  Helpless by/ Fearing what they  Would come for next  Then they came for him This time I marched with them  We took away the man  Left only the monster  And you/ You stood by And you watched him die 

On November 1, 2018, I made a spur of the moment decision to do Nanowrimo, barely 3 hours before Day 1 was due to end. And as toxic as Nano can be, I'm glad I did it this year. Because not only did I win, but I also made considerable progress on a brand new novel - one I believe is viable and shows much potential. Once again, however, I'm reminded of the exact meaning of the words "Rough draft." The book is far from finished, and involves some writing that is so terrible that I can't even consider showing it to other people.  So no, Nano doesn't end with November. December requires me to write an additional 25,000 words or how many ever is required to finish the book. January will hopefully call for revision and the second draft.  And in the meantime, I have never had so much fun in a long time as I have had writing this novel. 😘😘

Whenever I hear of problematic behaviour displayed by a famous or semi-famous person, I bookmark it somewhere in my head. But such is the range and variety of problematic behaviour that it is impossible to keep track of every monster and the details of their repellent behaviour. So in a lot of cases, I make a face when I hear a particular name but cannot immediately recall why. When Sacred Games was released, I was highly unimpressed (primarily because Saif Ali Khan). I wasn’t planning on watching it. Now, for most people, the big draw was Nawazuddin Siddiqui, whom I had previously seen only in Kahaani. And sure, he displayed charisma in that movie, but it wasn’t enough to cancel out the big, boring presence of Saif Ali Khan. And then a friend of mine started talking about Sacred Games while we were out for lunch. I made a face. But Nawazuddin Siddiqui, he said. I love that guy. I know twisted, fucked up characters are his forte, but I love that guy. I made a

I get angrier at myself for being depressed when things are going well than I do for when things are going up in flames. The more reasons to feel happy the are the more I feel obligated to be happy. And I know that's unfair of me because depression doesn't exactly give me a say in these things. But it is a very difficult responds to unlearn. Watching Petra struggle with postpartum depression on Jane the virgin has allowed me to unlock an even deeper level of empathy. (And fresh hate for Tom Cruise and all men like him who use their pedestal to propagate hateful and potentially damaging bullshit.) I still can't figure out why the Jane the virgin poster features a girl child though, and I'm two seasons in. I have been doing nanowrimo this year, and it has finally been working for me after so many years. I am reminded of when I started work on my first novel, back in 2013. I used to write on paper back then, although right now that feels like double the work. And Nan

05.11.2018 Hello, Grumpy Grumperson here. Hope you're all having a nice day. I'm not, although I wouldn't chalk it up to depression or difficulty. I'm just having a very grumpy day (since I woke from my afternoon nap - am I a baby?) Great, now I'm even grumpy about the words Grumpy GrumperSON. PRO: I looked at an apt, took kittens to the vet, napped, and swept the house. CON: I still have Nano to do today, an exam to study for, and LOADS of housework. I also have an irrational urge to scream at people for no reason. I do not think that's normal. 🙄

Somebody just asked me if I'm doing Nanowrimo and it legit made me even more depressed. To be fair, I've generally been quite depressed for a while. For approximately 12 years, if we're being technical about it. But also for a few months, because this year I have had good weeks as well as bad weeks. It's so bad right now that I'm psyching myself up to do some basic housework through my writing. The agreement I have with myself is that I will write do one or two things around the house for every few paragraphs. And on that note... *Pause* Well, the worst of it is done. Just the time consuming bits left now. It should be a good weekend considering all the good things - even great things - that have been happening. And yet, I feel like a trash fire. I find myself resenting everyone and everything. I find myself losing my goddamn mind. It's only for another month, tries the voice of reason in my head. And I groan, because ANOTHER MONTH? 28 further days of mad

December 19, 2010 Watch  The inmates d oomed to stay In this here  Prison house/ Counting bars Watching the shadows/ lengthen Across the desolate yard See  The wistful glances  dart  At sky a nd skylark both Freedom and joy both denied  Watch As their hunger grows The world is hard  On fallen stars Fate is harder, pitiless The punishment most serious For losing what most Could never hope to get Most heartbreaking to see Is the way they turn inwards Tearing at each other Killing for the sake of pain buried Deep in desiccating hearts For mistakes old and mistakes young Faults real and faults imagined The last embers of humanity Consumed in misplaced bestial rage Watch them fight Rolling across the yard In furious embraces locked Fashioning sport for the watching world Gladiator-like and self consuming anger Unheeding jeers and catcalls Something beyond humiliation and defeat Come  And watch  These fallen star

Crossposted. October 1, 2010. Yesterday, you sat beside me as I cried. Today, there's no one to hold me as I cry. And that is how I know you're still alive. Because every minute of my days, you're a hole in the world, floating softly next to me, filling my dreams and fantasies, and all my waking hours. I feel myself giving slowly in to the pressure. An evil imp insists that I take the plunge, but I know that even as I slice into the blue depths of the pool, there will be no water to caress my sore skin, to soothe the aching pain that afflicts me. What can I say, except that you walked away on a moonlit night? That the strange loud music in the background drowned out the sound of my heart breaking. What can I say, except that I had no choice but to break the circle to keep myself sane? Princesses know the duties they owe State and people. Royalty from around the world courts us with gifts unimaginable, with more flowers than our castles can hold, with more l

Derivative: product whose value is derived off of one or more basic variables, called underlying assets. Forwards: a customized OTC contract between two parties where settlement takes place on a future date at prices agreed upon today. Swaps: arrangement between two parites to exchange cash flows in the future according to a prearranged formula.             Interest rate swaps             Currency swaps Market players: hedgers speculators arbitrageurs   Tick: minimum size of price change. The market price will change only in multiples of the tick. Lot: aka contract amount – the minimum amount that can be traded The profit or loss associated with the change of one tick = tick x contract amt. Market cycle: the period over which a contract trades. Final settlement date aka value date: last business day of the month – for inter-bank settlements in Mumbai. Set by Foreign Exchange Dealer’s Association of India (FEDAI). Expiry date aka last t

Introduction to Currency Derivatives  Foreign Currency (FX) is the value of one country’s currency against that of another. This arises due to the need to exchange from one currency to another during cross-border trade. Gold was used as the benchmark for valuation until the Bretton Woods system was introduced between 1944 and 1971. This system combines the gold method of valuation with a floating rate system . All currencies were pegged to the USD, and the USD was pegged to gold. The US made a guarantee that other central banks can convert their money to USD at any point in time. Countries agreed to maintain the exchange rate in the range of plus or minus 1% of the fixed parity of the US dollar. In this way, the US currency became the dominant currency. Bretton Woods was eventually suspended, with all countries adopting the floating rate system. Developed countries eventually moved to a market determined exchange rate .  Developing countries adopted a system of pegged currency or

Something has been bothering me ever since I found out my sister has gotten an internship at a top tier law firm in Mumbai, and I just realized what. It's about the selfish angle, of course. That nobody could get me the same thing back when it would have probably really helped me. 👅 Now that that's processed and out of the way, I can go back to worrying about whether she'll be able to do alright there. (And also dream about my shiny new job which actually makes me happy, which is more than can be said for getting such an internship - or even a job at a top-tier law firm.) On a related note, I'm glad to see that I'm able to be an enthu cutlet*  despite the depression. The status of the depression has officially been updated from "moderate" to "low." *Slang for "overly enthusiastic in a harmless way"

'Tis that time of the year again, when I must begin to look at houses, consider exams, and a whole lotta other stressful things. It's in times like these that I grind my teeth in frustration at the memes we millennials make to try and get through life. All those digs at boomers and whoever. It feels hopeless that this is all we can do. Or maybe that's just the allergies talking. To me, it feels like a good day to be depressed. (When is it not?) But that being said, I don't want to be depressed today, and  it's one of those days where I can decide whether or not to be. Welcome to the bluh of moderate depression. The thing about moderate depression is that it actually feels lighter to those of us who struggle with severe depression on a regular basis. You actually feel "happy," even though you have no hope, no faith, no strength to do anything except the bare minimum and then lay in bed. Relativistic bullshit at its best. In addition to all of that

In the aftermath of the latest wave of #MeToo, I saw hundreds of people relive some of the most painful moments of their lives. They did this way out in public, engraving onto the internet memories that many of them would have spent years repressing or avoiding. They wrote it down on social media, knowing that hundreds of screenshots would be taken. And all of us talked about the burden of having to perform our pain in the hopes that something would come of it. Not necessarily justice. But maybe for it to serve as a warning to other people. Perhaps some degree of validation of that pain. A deterrent, that this might stop happening to people. People that try to spread awareness about any sort of pain or marginalization – be it feminist issues, mental health awareness, or caste, gender or sexuality based discrimination – are questioned so hard and so often that they end up having to display their pain so they can be taken seriously. They do this in as harsh a manner as possib

Depression is a horrible thing. It feels like a literal weight that's pushing you down. And it affects everything you do. Imagine walking down a flight of stairs. It's easy enough for your average, able bodied, uninjured person. Walking up takes a little more energy but it's not something that you would even need to think about. Now imagine doing the same thing while carrying an armchair. Not a chair, not even an office chair, but an honest to goodness armchair. That's what everyday life feels like for someone who has depression. You don't dare put it down either, not for a second, because you just know you won't have the energy to pick it back up. And so it goes. You wake up every day and you have the goddamn armchair to carry around, everywhere you go. And you dread it. You dread getting out of bed, you dread even attempting to do anything. You walk so slowly, stuck under this weight, that half the time you're too late by the time you get where you'

December 19, 2010 The vigil continues As shadows lengthen into nothingness And new sounds from the nightmaster’s jukebox Filter in through the air Calling for some ritual Long forgotten by Day Guarded under moth and owl Keepers of the secret way What wordless magic shimmers Grey against this black backdrop? Luring frail and wayward hearts Into nets woven of the forbidden Deeper ecstasies; a new fantasy The lonely sighs of a broken heart Quiet gasps of laughter All offerings at a sacred fire The fumes from their Sabbath Fashioned into a heady brew Bottled madness and liquid sanity Poison and antidote coupled The vigil continues And I watch the stars come out Pinpricks of hope In a vast night of hate Avenging angels bent On a celestial mission for Love The night rain falls In stinging droplets upon my face Mingling with the tears Of a hundred hopeless nights With the piercing silence Of a screaming heart Fe

I woke up with a good feeling this morning. The sun shone gently onto my face from behind the curtains. I smiled and turned over, too lazy to get up yet. Strangely, I found another body in my bed. Getting up, I found the love of my life asleep next to me. I gazed at the golden band around my ring finger on the left hand. And then I looked back at the unfamiliar face on the pillow next to mine. Somewhere along the way, those precious years seemed to have disappeared. Last night I fell asleep pining for a soulmate, a love that eluded me yet. And the morning dawned on a new life, and someone I'd never seen before. Was it that all those years, I was so absorbed in the quest that I never saw the many soulmates that I passed by? Was it that I settled down with, and woke up next to, something I was still searching for? I wondered whether I’d made a mistake. Was that why I failed to remember? Was it by some strange act of self defense that I refused to acknowledge that

Crossposted from Feminist Quill : June 4, 2017 Title: The Ruby Circle Author:  Richelle Mead Year of Publication:  2015 Series: Bloodlines #: 6 Goodreads Rating (Avg.): 4.22 Goodreads Rating (Mine): 5 Business As Usual for Spoilers I really dislike this cover art version of Sydney. Neither this Sydney, nor this Adrian match how I imagine they look. Plot Description:  A ten book saga winds to a close. Nearly all the pieces are in place, and this thing only needs a bit of basic ass-kicking to seal the deal. Simply put, Sydney, Ms. Terwilliger, Eddie Castile and Adrian go off on a magical scavenger hunt in an attempt to find Jill. And there's a magical baby hogging plot space. I began this blog with Mead's VA universe. And now it's finally coming to a conclusion. All of our favourite heroes have been in on the action for a while now, even though I haven't been giving them any mention in the reviews. Now it's time. Lissa and Christian have appe

December 19, 2010 It's another evening And me curled up by the fire The firelight reflected in my eyes Flickers and wavers Giving way to strange stories I smile as my eyes glaze over And a hundred years seem to pass The silence suddenly/ Just at my elbow Something curled up in my lap Like a housecat purrs I stroke it absently and smile As I watch the things that never were There's a pain in the centre of my forehead Right over the frown wrinkle I'm asleep with my eyes wide open I'm dead to the world Even as my hands stroke something Absently, that lies curled up in my lap There's something to be said About these things I see When I'm awake and yet asleep A bit of replay here A bit of fantasy there A sliver of wistful thinking And a song long forgotten A face I've seen many times before In a game I used to play when I was a child All mixed up with the tears I shed My pet curled up in my