Big Fat Nothing

Traditionally, I would ramble about an epiphany or a mundane observation. This is a bit of both.

I feel so lost in my own emptiness, sometimes, it bores me to no end. That's why I find it riveting to comment on others. We do that, don't we? It's so easy to call people names and heckle them. Are people inherently mean? Or do they simply not care what their words imply?

I adore the fight or flight adrenaline rush as much as the next person. We watch cop car chases and brutal war movies for a glimpse of the horror of human nature: the hunt, the chase, the kill.

Elaborating on the chase, alone, I'd like to say that chasing dreams is overrated to the point of inducing dullness. Chasing reality is far less glamorous but a lot easier to accept as we can see it for ourselves.

When everything you believe in comes crashing down... when all the "I'm okay"s and "I'm fine"s are not enough... you have a terrible choice to make: fight the demonic forces or fly to a place that is not as unhappy as where you are now.

What do you do?

I have been called a lot of things. Mostly fat. People believe it to be their responsibility to almost always comment on my weight. Have I gained a few kilos? Have I lost a few? Surprisingly, both types of comments irk me.

It surprises me that when people tell me I've lost weight, I get annoyed. I mean, what normal woman doesn't want the random acquaintance to thrown her a coy smile and say, "You've lost weight," like it's the greatest proclamation ever to be made?

No thank you, stranger. Please keep your eyes somewhere else and engage me in pleasant talk about the weather. If not, I'm sure my blow dryer has a few choice words for you.

It bothers me that I allow this to happen time and again... and have never come up with a single response I can look back at and glow with pride that I handled it well.

I, of course, hate the "It would be nice if you lost weight," comment slightly more. While the first type gives people an immediate sense of satisfaction that they did a good deed by giving a homely girl like me a compliment as I never get any (obviously!), the hypothetical 'perfect' version of me that I'm expected to chase... is worse in that it neither reassures me that I look okay as I am (again, not that I need this reassurance from passers-by) nor does it say that I can achieve this goal.

It's a wish. It's not a statement. It's like the people that say this have a whole conspiracy going on that if they drill this into me enough, I might try to drop a few.

So I don't.

Don't get me wrong: my diet's okay and my level of physical exercise is rather decent. I just don't feel the need to starve myself over every lousy remark cast at my appearance.

I cannot begin to describe the people who drag me into their trenches of self-pity with the, "You and I need to work out... look at the state of us!"

Excuse you, missy. Maybe you'd like to work out. I'm okay with me. Do refrain from talking to me that way unless you want a shade of nasty that would even make the quintessential mean girl blush.

What I find immensely refreshing are people who say nothing about my weight. Where are these people?! I'd like to say they are part of a vast majority but sadly, no. If my weight is not commented on by... then it's quite possible that we haven't met.

The Answer

I am the quiet artistic mind they seek.
Yet I am the one they then call meek.
I am a thousand worlds rolled into one.
Yet in their eyes, I am no one.
With ever mock, taunt and growl,
I have learnt to talk, stomp and prowl.
I wear my scars with pride.
I hold them tightly to my side.
I look in the mirror and smile:
Perhaps... it has taken me a while...
... but here I am.

Goodbye, Mirror of Erised...
... for I need you no more.

Men, men. Many men. Manly men… men.

Earlier today, I heard an exasperated exclamation, "Men are so hopeless! Argh! They are SO unorganized!" I could see my friend was just annoyed at the fact that her work had been messed up by some random guy and as a form of stress relief, she wanted to take it out on the whole gender. But I didn’t like it.

As politely as I could, I chipped in amidst her tirade of "Men can't do this... they can't do that... lazy... unorganized... sloppy..." with, "Hey... not all men are the same. Maybe not generalize?"

And before I've finished the syllables of my last word, she's off again citing examples from her life about how men are deficient in so many ways and I purse my lips.

Now the girl in question is a sweet, friendly person. Any other day, and any other situation, she'll be chirping about something or the other. I want this post to not be a stab at her, or anyone for that matter, who has spoken in length about the many shortcomings of men. I am just here to give my two cents (which were robbed from me by the friend in question, so I turned here):

I can only talk about what I know and what I've seen. Or rather, who I've talked to and who I've seen. What I did notice was there are exceptions. I'm not going to bust EVERY stereotype in the book. But I'll take a stab at a few.

Men are unorganized - People, that is just not true. I know for a fact that men can be supremely organized. A male friend of mine is so organized he manages to exercise, go to work, maintain long distance relationships with his parents and girlfriend... not to mention read extensively (both fiction and non-fiction) and even watch an episode of Cosmos - on a regular basis. That's right. He routinely devotes time to skype, thumbing through Robert Jordan and tuning into National Geographic. How about it, eh?

Men cannot cook - Here, I'd like to point out that a lot of great chefs out there are male. And that my dad is one helluva cook. He says that it helped during his bachelor days and that it's nothing more than a survival skill but he's not fooling anyone: he's too good a cook. I've seen him experiment with dishes and serve them in a flourish and all I have to do is settle down and gobble it up! Best. Job. Ever.

Men are unemotional - Ouch. That's a harsh one, guys. And positively unfair. I know men and boys who have teared up in front of me and I have not lost respect for them one bit. Not one bit. It takes courage to put yourself out there like that and I applaud it. Of course showing sad emotions isn't all there is to it. Guys express happiness pretty well, too. That wicked grin you've seen your buddy make... or that burst of laughter next to you at a movie, you know what I’m talking about. Men are not robots incapable of expressing themselves and expecting them to be just that is terrible.

Men are violent - Yikes. I've had trouble with this one. No one wants to hear about a guy that stepped in to stop a fight or walked away from one: they just want to know who was in the fight and who came out better from it. Pity.

I don't. 

I had a friend tell me how he would never, ever pick a fight because he once had and ended up injuring this guy so badly, he bled. A lot. Imagine a pool of blood. Sorry to put that image in your head, but I'm trying to make a point. It's awful and we shouldn't encourage guys to raise their fists or boo them when they don't. We shouldn't egg them on and make claims that he has to "protect his/X's honour" or that he is less of a man if he doesn't throw in a punch or two. Shame on you, if you ever have. Shame!

A real man must be economically powerful – That has to be the worst one of them all. We see it everywhere and every day. It is a given that men have to be the breadwinners and women (while they can be breadwinners themselves) have to nurture and take care of children/maintain a home. Men are expected to earn more than their partners, if they both work and if not he will apparently fall short of the yardstick people use to measure his worth. Are we all really that small-minded? I can safely say that I know a couple where the woman earns more than her spouse. Guess what? No drama in that department. They're perfectly happy. How I would love to live in a world where men could stay at home if they pleased and took over the child rearing and women alone clocked the hours at the office.

*sigh*

I do know that that is the case in quite a few places today but I'd love for it to be common. I’d love it even more if it were looked down upon a lot less, if not at all. But it will long before that day arrives and till then...

Let's give our men a break, shall we? And hand me that wrench. Don't look at me like that -- I know exactly what I'm doing...

Agnosticism: The lazy man’s atheist?

For the longest time, I have told people (and myself) that I’m agnostic. Now that’s a pretty big statement; I’ve been raised by ardent Hindu parents who took me on annual pilgrimages all over South India (much to my sister’s and my dismay) and making such a declaration would come as a huge blow to them, to say the least. So was it some epiphany on one of these many trips that led to my disillusionment? Or did I perhaps come across a great book/article that changed my life? I wish I knew. But I do know when it happened – somewhere during my UG I just decided that I’m not entirely sure I believe there is a God. Bam. I’m Agnostic.

Now this leads me to the next part of my rambling: having decided that I don’t know if I believe in the existence of one omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent being who created us, I had to decide right? Whether to restore my faith (at which point I realized “my faith” only included me praying not to fail in mathematics every year) or go non-believer. Either way, it’s a big leap and frankly, I wasn't ready for it.

It wasn't like I never tried. I was still taken to temples by parents and I tried to feel that spiritual upliftment I always saw my dad have and I felt nothing. I tried to think, maybe I’m an atheist who’s just afraid to admit it. And that was when it hit me: my Agnosticism wasn't some transitional period. It was just my desperate means to procrastinate the inevitable: admitting I’m an atheist.

I wondered, then, whether this was the case with ALL agnostics out there. Were we just waiting for that nudge? I mean, if we’re willing to say we’re “not sure” if we believe in God’s existence, how much farther is it to get to we “don’t” believe in His existence.

But I had to admit, there were moments when I couldn't wrap the thought around my head: no invisible hand to catch me when I fall, no one to pray to for a miracle… why would I want to rob myself of that? Why can’t I just coast my way to a deathbed in my uncertain state? Saying something doesn't exist because there’s no proof seemed pretty reasonable at this point, but was I ready? It was a lot to give up.

Well, I wasn't ready then. At 19, it  seemed too big a commitment, I’d rather remain an agnostic. But now, at 22, I know I’d just been lying to myself this whole while. And so I’m coming out of the Agnostic closet – I’m here, I'm Atheistic, get used to it!

Until my next exam is done and I await my results, anyway…

Not a Valentine's Day post

The 15th of February... belated wishes, St. Valentine. It was with great self-control that I stopped myself from posting on Valentine's Day. Simply because I'm one of the biggest suckers for the holiday and I'm trying not to indulge myself and posting the day after was the best I could manage!

Oh, man. I HATE being a romantic. But I'm glad I know I am. There's nothing worse than the kind that make tall claims of hating romance while shamelessly indulging in the same. Tsk, tsk. If you're a non-believer, be my guest. But don't go playing the it's-not-for-me card with wondrous arm candy and suitors by the score.

So, how did I spend the day? With the ones I love? Well, yes, sort of. I do, everyday! What was different was I didn't daydream too much about possibilities and randomly running into my soulmate. Yep, I believe in Soulmates. When you know, you know... you know?

I listened to Adele's 'Someone Like You' (I have this amazing ability to cry for songs I can't even relate to but surprisingly, I didn't cry for this one!) as it was stuck in my head the whole day, and well, Adele is beyond superb. Here's the song that did crush my heart, though -

Elton John - Someday Out of the Blue

One word: Nostalgia. I can't think of anything in particular, but feel so deeply for this number.

'Not so long ago, seems like eternity. 
Those sweet afternoons still capture me...'

The idea of growing up and growing apart; losing yourself, it's one of my worst fears. Thankfully, I'm changing at a careful pace; trying hard not to stereotype myself or become the opposite of me. Scary place.

'Twas a good day, overall. Splendid serenity comes so rarely, I'm glad I could enjoy it for one peaceful day.

Say What?

Unfortunately, this is yet another rambling. How much does one want to know and how much does one know - two very different things, yes. That's what I didn't think for a long time. I belong to the rare group of people that listen. Perhaps too much. That's probably why I feel shepherded from place to place and unable to enjoy myself entirely. 'Why am I here?' pops in, inadvertently. 'Ah, yes, I came here with so-and-so...'

Ouch. Poor so-and-so. They're probably nice, but I can't always have a blast, can I?

'I heard from Blah that Glah is idiotic'

Now, Glah can be a person, place or thing.

I will not take Blah's word for it. Why should I? I might like Glah! Why risk the possibility of an argument with Blah when I can simply sample Glah for myself and then speak? Then arises the problem of specifics -- was it the right Glah?

Oh, gee. I don't think I checked, my bad. Too many possibilities are indeed awful.

So... it's time.

A lot of things, I must get off my chest. Literally. Physically. Completely. Wholly. Truly. Why? Because I must protect myself. When being pulled in different directions, it is difficult to know where to go: find your footing. You take one step at a time. Pick up the pieces, get back together. I will not concentrate on the difficulty of this task but merely accept it and move on. That is what life has taught me. One person cannot mean so many different things. At least, that is what makes sense right now. Letting go. But I cannot completely let go. Why? (It seems) From this standpoint, all my life people have defined me. Why? I did not speak up. Why? I was not confident enough. Why? I questioned Myself. Ah. Note to self: stop doing that. My instincts may lead me in many directions. But there is an uncertain force that brings me back to alignment. Makes me feel balanced. Like a Libran. Which I am. Hmmm...