Navigating Solutions and Darkness

I am my own unreasonable boss. You know, the one that does absolutely nothing, sabotages the entire project, refuses to take into account extenuating circumstances, and then takes it out on the employee when things hit the fan. We've all had one at some point.

Written November 16, 2010 Another night with insomnia keeping me company. That and the comfort music thumping a pattern into my addled brain cells. It's funny how Facebook and sleeplessness do these things to you, but I find my thoughts slipping into places they hadn't been to in awhile. I don't really know why I'm surprised, but I've tried to move on. No, really. But I guess I can't kid myself for long. Those things I try to forget, the memories that lie in wait in that locked room, aren't going nowhere. And besides, I did promise. I promised myself that I'd go back there, and pull the covers off, and maybe even do a little bit of dusting. Mostly, I think all I want to do is just sit and bask in the atmosphere of a world I never wanted to leave. Maybe those of you out there who still have what I could never have don't really see the point to it. Maybe you guys don't understand why I flinch every time someone comes out with that ...

Soon this will feel like a distant dream. Until then, may you rest in a deep and dreamless slumber. - Elise, Westworld Soft as the fabric falls over my skin, I can't help but think this is how it should be - the only way it can be.  Happiness, true happiness, is easily enough captured when you know where to look. And yet a shadow by my side reminds me, forever, that there is more to happiness than simply being happy.  I found my happiness in an ocean of tears, and I was content to drown in it. I found joy in a mirage, laughter in silence, love in the shadow of a grave. I slipped, I fell, I closed my eyes and found what felt true. Hard, cold math comes to my rescue, and I bid it go away. Hie from here, dark fiend, come to burst bubbles and dreams.  Tilt your head back, slip, slip into the spilled wishes. All the how I wishes, flitting from one pool of sunlight to another. How I, How I, How I wish I could fly. How I wish I'd never hurt again. How I w...

Soon this will feel like a distant dream.  Until then, may you rest in a deep and dreamless slumber. -  Elise,  Westworld Chantham Kalindi Nadam - Chess ചന്തം  കാളിന്ദി നാദം  - ചെസ്സ്  I loved this movie when I first saw it. (I can never be accused of having particularly good taste). This was mostly because I used to be a huge Dileep fan. (I can never be accused of having particularly good taste). I used to be a huge Dileep fan because I found him extremely funny. (I repeat, I can never be accused of having particularly good taste).  I wouldn't go so far as to say that it was love at first sight for the  Chantham Kalindi song and I. But it was definitely crush at first sight. And then this thing happened at dance class, and my crush developed into a full strength infatuation complete with angry jealousy and fantasies inside my head.  I may have mentioned this before, but I am not a naturally talented dancer. Today, yes, I ...

Trying not to get starry eyed over this boy may have been the hardest thing I've ever done. Memories are tricky. You know how olfactory senses are supposed to be the greatest triggers for memory ever? Well, something that comes close is reopening an old, closed door... and then combining it with another old closed door opening up. Out of the blue. Man, I kind of feel like I got hit in the face by a whole bunch of doors, and yes, this is about the Backstreet Boys concert that just happened in Dubai. When I first heard about it, I remember thinking, whoa, my Instagram story feed is going to be insane when this is happening. And I was definitely right about that. I mean, damn Dubai, I thought you couldn't hurt me anymore, and now I feel like I'm fifteen all over again. I won't, I tell myself. I won't encourage these feelings, just because there's yet another lanky, chocolate boy involved. I won't long for what I can't have, won't start to imag...

അവരെ ആദ്യം കണ്ടുമുട്ടിയ നിമിഷം തുടങ്ങിയുള്ള എൻ്റെ സംശയമായിരുന്നു - അവരുടെ പേര് അവർ തന്നെ തിരഞ്ഞെടുത്തതല്ലേ എന്ന്. അറബിക്കഥയിലെ രാജകുമാരികൾക്കുള്ളപോലത്തെ പേര്. ആ പേരിന് ചേർന്ന സൗന്ദര്യവും. നൃത്തം എന്നെ പഠിപ്പിക്കാൻ ശ്രമിച്ച അനേകരിൽ രണ്ടുപേരാണ് കൂടുതലായും ഓർമ്മയിൽ വ്യക്തമാകുന്നത് - ആദ്യത്തെ അധ്യാപകയും, പിന്നെ അവസാനത്തെ അധ്യാപകനും. നൃത്തത്തിന്റെ നൃ പോലും ചെയ്യാൻ സാധിക്കാത്ത ഒരു കുട്ടിയെ സാമാന്യം നല്ല രീതിയിൽ ആടാൻ പഠിപ്പിക്കണമെങ്കിൽ, അതൊരു സാമർഥ്യം തന്നെ. ജീവിതം മുഴുവൻ നീളുന്ന ഒരു യാത്രയുടെ ആദ്യചുവടുകൾ അങ്ങനെയാണ് അനാർക്കലി എന്ന നർത്തകി എനിക്ക് കാണിച്ചു തരാൻ ഇടയായത്. തൃശൂർ ഞങ്ങളുടെ വീടിന്റെ അടുത്തുതന്നെയായിരുന്നു അനാർക്കലി പഠിപ്പിച്ചിരുന്നത്. എല്ലാ ദിവസവും ഒരേ സമയത്ത് എല്ലാവർക്കും ഒരുമിച്ചായിരുന്നു ക്ലാസ്സ് എടുത്തിരുന്നത്. ഏറ്റവും ഇളയ കുട്ടികൾ മുമ്പിലും, മുതിർന്നവർ പിന്നിലും - എല്ലാവരും തട്ടടവ് തുടങ്ങി ചെയ്തിരിക്കണമെന്നത് നിർബന്ധമായിരുന്നു. ഓരോ അടവ് കഴിയുംതോറും അത് വരെ പഠിച്ചിട്ടില്ലാത്തവർ മാറി പോയി ഇരിക്കും. അങ്ങനെ അലാരിപ്പും തോടയവും ഒക്കെ കഴിഞ്ഞ് ഏറ്റവും അവസാനം വലിയ ചേച്ചിമാർ അവരുടെ...

Written October 10, 2010 Sandals slapping on the sidewalk The chill wind whipping at my face I’m running away from another day Running towards the night I stare out the window Stare at the clock I’m checking my watch out And the cell phone clock The teacher’s a- droning I frown at my page There’s lines of poetry And patterns curving up the margin Surely that can’t be right Surely she’s talking sums Surely there’s something somewhere I’m required to listen to But the window’s open The chill winds a- beckoning And I’m wondering what I’m doing inside On such a lovely grey evening The hall clock ticks on I turn another page And my pen’s a- doodling In a hundred different colours And a hundred different pens On a page covered with sums The hall clock strikes The door opens The chill wind is in the room Teasing my hair Asking me out Sorry guys, gotta go Maybe another day, this will go better Maybe another day I’ll do What I was supposed to do in the first place Perhaps tomorrow I’ll leav...

Written December 23, 2008 Context: Thoughts resulting from anxiously stressing over whether I'd get to home to Dubai for the holidays or not. (Spoiler: Didn't happen). I don't even want to consider any other alternative, because this tiny little hope is ALL I have left. The only thing that keeps me sane and going. It's just this tiny presumption, a weak flimsy base to all the fancy castles being built on it, high up in the clouds. One word is enough to send the whole damn thing tumbling to the ground. And yet I keep thinking that if I go into battle believing my own invincibility... believing, blindly believing that nothing can stand in my own way, and that no one will say no to me... everything'll turn out alright.

Photo by  Matt Duncan  on  Unsplash I remember the first time I fell in love with a language. It was fourth grade, and we had to learn a third language in school - after English and Arabic, both of which were compulsory. The options were Hindi, Urdu and French. I didn't know any Hindi or Urdu and my parents really couldn't help me there. The scripts were a little difficult to acclimatize to, and I really wanted to learn French. Urdu was never even really considered an option (I wonder why). The kids who learned Hindi and Urdu actually spoke it as their first language, so I guess that was pretty convenient for them. The teachers for both these languages taught in said language, I would probably have been lost from Day 1, and that would have screwed up my perfect percentages.  I was eager to learn French - I connected to it as much as I failed to connect with Hindi and Urdu. It helped that Mrs. S was glamorous in a way teachers in that school definitely weren...

Photo by  Jimmy Chan  from  Pexels Written on October 2, 2008. Notes in red. You know how the old classic goes... Welcome to the Ho(s)tel California... You can check out any time you want... But you can never  leave!!!! I checked out, baby. I checked out a long time ago. But it doesn't look like I get to leave any time soon. I'm going back today, with no hope for any respite until November. Ahm how the months stretch on.. Days and days of sleeping in class and lying awake at night,  of analysing and cross analysing people's words and actions, and going all paranoid on them --  Does she hate me? What did he mean by that? Why doesn't this one look at me?  Frankly, I'm getting a little sick of myself. If you were to ask just wtf is wrong wit me... I'd tell you I'm a paranoiac suffering from bipolar disorder and mild schizophrenia and mild megalomania. And just in case you didn't know,   bipolar disorder is the same a...

Written on October 1, 2008 Photo by  Nadia Jamnik  on  Unsplash Now, what exactly made me choose that title? Frankly, I'm not so sure, except for the fact that everything's pretty much broken heart material pour moi  right now. Where do I begin? Maybe from the last post. Remember what I said about being hung from the yardarm? Very nearly happened. I guess it was stupid to think I could get away with it. I was caught and screwed for every bit of the time I took off. So what with my grandmother's lectures about cutting classes, and the nuns' horror at what I'd dared to do... And that too, a girl. Quel horreur! One of these days, I will bomb Brilliant Study Centre. And then news analysts all over the world will zoom in on my blog and go, "OMG, we should've seen it coming. I mean, look, it was all over her page!" I can only hope I'll be unavailable for comment. The microphones of World News may never recover from the filthy diatribe I...

Photo by  Priscilla Du Preez  on  Unsplash Getting Started (Femme Fatale) Baskin Robbins For President Summer of '69 Searcheth the Key Christmas Come Early Tale of a Broken Heart Hostel California Freecell King Sweet Summer Child: A Love Letter Between Ahab and the Whale This Last Strand Where Angels Fear to Tread Lady of the Land that isn't Really There The Choices That Dare to Cross My Path Will Be Taken Out and Shot The Bitter Taste of Freedom Salvation A New Year Poem 14 Years Together - The Beginning of the End Confessions of a Bored Website Hit(Wo)Man Beat the IIT Boy Awards Ceremony 2010 Waiting For the Roof to Fall In, Or For Me To Fall Off Lightning Dome Cuckolds: A Tale of Two Parties I'm From 'Nam Three Days Into Adulthood Sleepy Zonk - One Half-Firang Politician Stewed and Nettled Sierra's Fifth Circle of Hell - Citations  Alice Didn't Think There'd Be Midterms in Wonderland  Imaginarium That Elusive Frog W...