Lost in Strange New World. Chapter Two: Chicago

*clears throat*
Let me begin by apologizing for disappearing – again. While some (read – one) of my loyal followers kept begging me to blog again, some critical followers (read – one) told me it is best I quit because I suck at it anyway. The loyal follower did not really count – being my sister the least she could do was encourage me in my futile attempt at wit. But then nor did the critical follower – being the most cynical self proclaimed genius, it was obviously refined jealousy at my ingenuity. The fact that nobody else cared counted though. So here I am frustrated at the lack of encouragement from you – Yeah YOU.

So I was supposed to finish this scientific paper in August … 2011, I have not yet. Though blogging makes me super guilty about that I decided it is time, because enlightenment cannot wait and the ideas were just over flowing. I am going to pick up right where I left off. After Baltimore next stop was Chicago. And Chicago in the summer is just a festival by itself. But this blog is not about how wonderful Chicago is because you can get that at any travel website and they sure do use a lot better adjectives than my mere “wonderful”.

As you might know (note: sarcasm) from one of my ancient posts I get lost at every excuse I can get to get lost. My sense of direction is way worse than a hamster running on one of those stupid wheels. If I were a hamster believe me I would get lost on one of those wheels. So here I was, absolutely alone in the big city of Chicago and I decided to walk to work every day. Now why would I do that? Because I was armed with the best weapon a person like me can have – a GPS app in my phone! ... Or so I thought.

First day: I decided to get something to eat. So armed with my new weapon I stepped out into the strange new world with a mission to accomplish. My GPS helped me find a Subway, KFC and a White Castle right at the end of my lane. Though the ‘White Castle at my doorstep scenario’ would have made life much easier for Harold and Kumar, it did not work for me – I was neither high on pot nor drunk and it was 10:00 am. I decided I needed to cook and decided to find the nearest grocery. My GPS first led me to a huge area of nothing but rubble which was supposed to be a supermarket – either the supermarket was demolished last night with no time for my GPS to update it or Superman decided to fart on it this morning. Walking to the next grocery, led by my GPS again, I found a decent place. And this made me super excited because for the first time in my life I actually found a place I needed to get to. Extremely content with myself and my weapon – I returned home, weapon in hand and mission accomplished.

First day of work: Thanks to the success story of the previous day it was only obvious why I would feel so confident on my way walking to my first day of work. I walked about 2 miles and finally reached my place of work (with a little assistance from a very helpful, good looking guy who went out of his way to find me my place inside the campus). This just could not get any better.
I walked back home. Somehow I walked 3 miles though. And I passed some Home for homeless which I was pretty sure I did not pass on my way to work. But all is well that ends well.

Second day of work: I reached much earlier than I thought I would, walking 1.5 miles. The places I passed seemed unfamiliar somehow. Three possibilities:
1) I was really not being observant any longer walking on my way to work – which was not very smart of me, and I like to believe I am … smart.
2) I was in magic land where places and streets changed everyday – which would make my life without a GPS impossible!
3) I was still managing to get lost. The sheer horror of it was unfathomable.

Third day of work: I reached late. I walked 4.5 miles and reached looking like a pig after a marathon. And I passed the FBI headquarters on my way. Now being the ex-X files-cum- Hannibal/Clarice fanatic and mischievous brat that I was, I was absolutely sure this had not happened before – I would have tried something stupid – Like telling him I was Agent Dana Scully, I just had plastic surgery which is why I don’t look like her any longer and he had to let me in; or that he looks just like Agent Fox Mulder and ask him when he was demoted into becoming a security guard; or tell him Dr Hannibal Lecter ate my face again and that is why Agent Clarice Starling keeps changing faces from that of Jodie Foster to that of Julianne Moore to now mine or maybe just make a silly face and run. But I hadn’t, and on that particular day I was too mortified at me managing to get lost and being late for work to consider being the mischievous brat I was.
My colleague understanding the pitiful and distressing situation I was in decided to help me out and dropped me back home. We reached VERY quickly. Apparently I lived no more than 0.8 miles away from work. All I had to do was walk straight on Taylor Street. Armed with this information I decided to try again.

Fourth day of work: I walked straight and reached. 0.8 miles it was – in a completely unseen route.
So on my way back from work I decided follow the same route with the help of my GPS. The fact that I had a familiar face about 30 metres behind me was somehow comforting. Everything was going perfectly well until I decided to tie my laces round a corner. The GPS instructed me to take a left – I did like a good little girl following mommy’s orders, I walked till the end of the lane and it instructed me to take a left – I did. Walking till the end of the lane, it instructed me to take a left AGAIN – and that is when it dawned on me – I was going around a block; I had two options walk back half the way around the block to where I tied my laces or follow the GPS take a left and walk to where I tied my laces. The GPS was realigning itself with every stop I made, with every time I turned a side or took a step forward at a corner. Stupid “secret weapon” did not understand that humans unlike cars can walk a step back and do not need to go around a block. I truly don’t understand how machines can ever get smarter than humans – They are so illogical. Humans are illogical only when emotions cloud minds. Machines are illogical all the time and with no good reason. Getting lost on my own was forgivable but getting lost with a GPS in hand was a new low for me that needed getting used to.
Disheartened at the total disappointment my GPS was, I followed my GPS one last time and the familiar face was ten steps ahead of me. He looked back and asked me if I was going around in circles.

Sheepishly grinning I said – “like always.”

Strange New World. Chapter One: Baltimore

Many of you already know but for those who don’t - adventurous me has been planning a whole new adventure for the past 6 months – which has kept me busy enough to keep me from blogging, socializing and being the human that I usually am.

The adventure in question was travelling half way around the world and go all over the country for half a year in the name of education - hence get financed by my cutie-pie Dad.

I am not going into the nitty-gritty of how I planned and planned till I dropped or how everything worked out or how excited I was when things did work out – as those things are meant for educational blogs and the other usual kind of blogs explaining how to succeed in life and the sort. I am not the sort who makes life easier for people just because they are lazy – so move on to some other blog (which I am sure there are plenty of) for such details. Mine is an enlightening blog where you learn stuff you could never learn anywhere else and that is why I have 38 followers even though I have posted just 10 posts in the past one year (Love you guys!). Hence I begin from the time I took my first step on the soil of United States of America – not in the hopes of achieving the American dream someday like every other immigrant taking their first step in U.S.A, but in the hopes of making this an experience worth killing for if not worth dying for.

JFK International airport, New York - I just kept repeating in my mind “New York, New York, New York” until I could get accustomed to the fact that the 14 hour HELL of a flight did finally get me to New York. Exit Flight and I literally screamed out New York – No, not due to excitement – It was so freaking unexpectedly cold that my mind decided to speak up. Have you seen that Russell Peter video in which he talks about the guy who farts in front of every plane that lands in India? Well, let me tell you something he did not say – in U.S.A you enter a blast freezer every time you exit a flight. It was supposed to be spring for crying out loud! After the dueling port of entry interview – where they determine whether you’re a terrorist by staring deep into your eyes for 10 seconds (which I passed with flying colours even though I was itching to stick my tongue out or make funny faces during the ‘duel’) I entered New York – and it was snowing – in spring. No jacket, no gloves and no scarf – I felt like a frozen chicken carrying three heavy bags. Cab ride to Penn station and until we reached Manhattan I thought I was in depressing, disgusting Mumbai (no offence) and then it happened. Empire State building came into sight, I realized the Persian taxi driver was playing loud trance music and we passed through Times Square, Fifth Avenue and all the heavenly places I have so far seen only sitting inside a cab – thanks to the weather. Train to Baltimore - on time, eventless and blah.

Jump forward a few days –during which adequate measures were taken to keep warm. My friend and I decide to explore the neighborhood of the best hospital in the whole wide world – Johns Hopkins, baby!!! – And for all those who think it is Harvard – you’re wrong.

All those House MD episodes when I wished I could be more like him and attend Johns Hopkins too – sigh – dreams come true! Classes were so good we felt like we would be Nobel Prize laureates had we graduated from here. For the first time things that never made any sense made sense – if that makes any sense. Everywhere we went – even when we were downtown shopping for groceries we had our Johns Hopkins IDs on – that is what visiting medical students do when in Johns Hopkins! We got ourselves Johns Hopkins sweatshirts and caps and mugs and everything money could buy. We were Johns Hopkins students and full of it – even if it were only for 3 months. For those of you who don’t understand, I have two words – Sour grapes.

Two months done and there begins hot, hot summer. I was born and raised in Dubai – so I used to consider myself well acclimatized to heat. But heat in U.S.A is unbearable! It is bright, hot, sweaty, sticky and I have to walk all the time! Unbearable. And I was hoping all this time that it would just get warmer! In addition to all this torture of summer you have to deal with half naked people running around or just lazing by in the name of getting a tan – the luxuries of having fair skin. If I did that I would look like a piece of charcoal, if I don’t look it already. But there was always something to smile about – if nothing, just reminding yourself of being in Johns Hopkins.

In between trying to save money, sketchy neighborhoods, eating cheap Chinese food, dealing with a frustrating landlord, cooking Mom’s recipes and cleaning bathrooms there were fun times like taking long walks to no particular place at 8:00 pm when it is bright and sunny, taking pictures of ALL sorts of people in Fell’s point, visiting Edgar Alan Poe’s grave, subway-delicious-subway, starbucks-heavenly-starbucks, rowing classes(thanks to a friend), sushi bars, awesome crepes, free KFC (thanks to a patriotic fellow Indian in U.S.) and movie nights. Work was not too time consuming or tiring, the hours were so considerate, professors so approachable and people strangely super friendly. The first time a person said ‘Hi! How you doing?’ in the street I almost asked ‘Do I know you?’ But then I remembered Julie Delpy’s dialogue in ‘Before sunset’. And since then you don’t think twice before ‘Im great! How you doing?’ Whoever thought I of all the cynical people in the world would be amicable in a society of super-friendly strangers.

Three months flew by too quickly, and more than anything I know my company helped me have fun, with a little assistance from my considerate work hours. Somehow I just don’t expect the same out of Chapter Two - pessimistic me.

Lessons for enlightenment:
1)There can be years when there is no spring – like 2011.
2)Make sure you have good company during your first month or be extremely good at making friends fast.
3)Do not forget - Strangers are super friendly – do not be flabbergasted or rude, I almost was.
4)Try to spend money wisely – the keyword being ‘try’.
5)Take loads of photos, glad I had my friend for that!
6)If you work hard there will be time to party harder.

At the end of Chapter One: Baltimore -
An experience worth killing for if not dying for : Mission Accomplished.

Next up Chapter Two: Chicago.

P.S.: Link at the bottom for commenting – super optimistic me. Sigh.

In rehab and deserving it

Wow!
Almost feels like my first post!

It has been forever since I posted and I realized that when a friend happened to post on the “wall” of a very addictive social network, unaware that I am officially under rehab – FB rehab.

Hence this post
– very appropriate a beginning to another end, if you ask me.

So what is it about facebook anyway?
I generally do not use names but I don’t think Mr Mark Zuckerberg will be much affected by my blog – he must still be wondering why the movie on him didn’t win the Oscar.
Back to bitching about facebook - Pardon the language – the past one year has made me more frustrated at depression than my usual frustrated, depressed self.

Does my friends list represent my friends in real life –HELL NO!

Unfortunately, for one whole month I accepted friend requests from people who shared mutual friends. BIG MISTAKE –because there are people as dumb as and maybe dumber than me who add based on the same stupid criterion.
End result – a horny, non-descript, irritating pervert who has access to my photo albums and has a friends list solely comprising the female gender.

That required cleaning up – which though a tedious process, finally, was very satisfying.

And then began my one month of Applications and games on Facebook. Even though I never went around to Farming, fishing and cooking, I unfortunately did enjoy losing fake money gambling and killing people in the pretext of me being a mafia gangster.
Both of this lead to me adding to my friends list a number of jobless, juvenile, losers; very much like myself, from all over the world, with whom I have not exchanged one word of conversation. I don’t even know their names and yet, there they are on my friends list.

That required cleaning up - after my computer crashed thanks to me trying to buy a multi-million dollar hotel from the money I got from murdering a gangster high up in the hierarchy. Mafia wars cost me two weeks of time on the internet, 4000 Rupees and lots of energy.
Energy saved up for blogging, perhaps.

The friends list cleared and kept in perfect condition, one fine day I just happened to look through people I was at least acquainted with on my friends list and I just realized what a hoax the whole thing is. I just went on to count the number of people I actually talk to. Those who know me know that I don’t talk to many people. I am not a friend who keeps friends - Probably something to do with my inherent laziness.

Anyway, I realized that those who mattered are not on facebook or have deleted me as a friend because of the bitch I have been to them; because friends that matter think facebook is important enough to let others know I am not a friend anymore, but not important enough to keep in contact through.

So here I am with friends in my Facebook who I barely talk to, snooping around in pictures of people I don’t even know, learning about gossip I don’t even want to know, putting up photos after much restriction knowing fully well my family will be viewing them, adding long lost relatives - who I have no idea about - to my friends list because I am obliged to, when I realize somewhere along the way what Mr Mark Zuckerberg wanted out of Facebook (other than the money) was completely lost in my case.

Maybe it is because I am not friendly, maybe it is because I am not sociable enough to enjoy the functioning of a social network, maybe it is because I am being a hypocrite in hating hypocrites because I am as hypocritical as a hypocrite can be, maybe it is because I was bitchy enough to make my friends delete me from their friend list. But whatever it was I was addicted to Facebook and frankly I had no right to be.

Hence I am under rehab.

P.S.: Wishing you all a very belated Happy new year!

P.S.S: In case you are wondering how to comment - it is the light green bubble near the title of the post - and this is the hopeful me hoping that is the reason I have no comments yet.

Spellbound

I read Les miserables when I was a child. I always thought it was mesmerising - one among the unconquered beauties of literature.
I came across this song very recently though - the lyrics have literally blown me over.
I couldn't have expressed my thoughts in a better way.

I'll blog soon. Sorry to keep all of you waiting.
My excuse - I just got back from my Europe trip!

I DREAMED A DREAM - Les miserables

There was a time when men were kind
When their voices were soft
And their words inviting
There was a time when love was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting
There was a time
Then it all went wrong

I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving

Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used and wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung, no wine untasted

But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hopes apart
As they turn your dream to shame

He slept a summer by my side
He filled my days with endless wonder
He took my childhood in his stride
But he was gone when autumn came

And still I dream he'll come to me
And we'll live our lives together
But there are dreams that cannot be!
And there are storms we cannot weather

I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.

*SIGH*

My weapon

This post is especially dedicated as a warning to the person who told me my last post ‘sucked like all the rest of them’. I would also like to dedicate it to any frustrated overbearing moron who tries to irritate me in the future.

I am armed and dangerous.

Three days ago I was posted for evening duty. I hate evening duty. It makes me cranky the whole day. The torture of waiting for non existent patients for two whole hours, putting my social life on hold for sitting in a dinghy health centre, walking back to hostel to find all your friends have already made plans excluding you and most of all waiting the whole day for evening posting to begin so that it can come to an end – I really have my reasons for hating evening duty. The day in question was similar. I was cranky the whole day and when my friend offered me a ride back to hostel I thought something was going right – finally. Well, I couldn’t have been more mistaken.

Due to unforeseen circumstances he had to drop me off at a junction which was a five minute walk away from my hostel. I cursed myself for my brilliant decision but decided it isn’t that big a deal since my day had been terrible so far anyway. I decide to call my ‘support system’ for company and Voila! My phone battery is dead. One minute in to the walk and all the streetlamps go off – power cut. So here I am, after an exhaustingly terrible day standing alone in the middle of a ‘notorious’ street in the dark with no phone to call anyone in case of emergency.

As any other person in my shoes would have done I started cursing out loud. I was unsure whether to continue on the walk or to stay put. But a weird idea similar to ‘A rolling stone gathers no moss’ made me decide to walk on with the help of occasional light cast by the headlights of cars zooming by.

Two minutes into the walk and I see the silhouette of a guy walking towards me – very unsteadily. And then I hear him speaking aloud to himself – A drunkard.
When God decides to have fun and enjoy putting you through shit, He makes sure He goes all the way!
I can’t cross the street because suddenly the cars seem to be zooming by faster and the drunkard had very obviously noticed me. That is precisely when my brain started working in amazing ways. I put my hand into my bag and fished out the closest thing to a weapon that I had – My stethoscope.

I start swinging my stethoscope rowdily – and I somehow felt wildly similar to a cowgirl with a lasso. The drunkard in all his stupor must have felt the same because my current ‘avatar’ had made him stop in his tracks. He looked like a mouse cornered. He started looking around for a way out while I was charging in his direction with my stethoscope swinging wildly! With no other choice but death he crosses the busy street clumsily, horns blaring from ever car on the street and I just couldn’t help but laugh.

I had scared a guy using my stethoscope. Whoever would have thought of the stethoscope being such a fearsome weapon? The point is that necessity is the mother of invention.

Now, I always have my stethoscope with me – even when I go to the mall!

My new prefix

It has been four long and happening months.
And that is exactly what this post is about.

December: I went home to study. I sort of tried to study and that is what matters. The month flew by. It is funny how you take small comforts such as homemade food on the table right on time and being woken up by a person rather than a jarring alarm for granted. I attended a wedding too. In short it was like a vacation, the only “tiny” difference being that it was actually my study holidays – but that isn’t much of a difference anyway.

January: I returned to my hostel a couple of days before my Final MBBS universities began – to settle in. I settled in pretty well – me and my friends went shopping and took extremely long coffee breaks.
The exams: It just kept getting worse. And the first exam was just average for me – meaning the details of the last exam is not worth typing down (not to mention how it put me into a never ending state of depression!).
Of all the exams one in particular changed my life – Surgery Practicals. Not only did I call up my sister during the noon break and tell her I am not planning on giving the afternoon session (Thank God I don’t put all my thoughts into action!), I also changed my idea of a dream job. I always wanted to be a plastic surgeon but this exam changed it all – now I have no idea what I want to do in life, again (Applause please!) – I am working on it though, sort of.
The only thing that kept me going during the torture period was the thought of having that much revered prefix to my name in less than a month.

February: I tried my best not to think about the upcoming results and I succeeded quite well. Home was fun, fun and lots of fun. Shopping with my sister for Valentine’s, disasters in the kitchen, getting sloshed with my sister and her husband, late night karaoke sessions made life beautiful again!
During this beautiful period I decided to boost my ego a little bit by taking the TOEFL. And it certainly did. Yours truly managed a score of 118/120 after sleeping through half of the listening section. I don’t mean to brag (*false modest look*) buy how many people do you know who can manage that? So, now I have a brand new reason for you to continue reading my awesome blog – it might help your language skills!!
Results: As always I was late in figuring out that the results were out (even after most of my friends changed their FB statuses to include the newly attached prefix). My results were better than expected (since I expected not to pass!). Anyway, the point is I passed with flying colours and I am, finally, after four and a half years of laziness, procrastination, fun and frolic a DOCTOR (Standing ovation please!)

March: My first month as a doctor was fantabulous. I was posted in a little heard of rural area with nine colleagues and we had a blast. Work was fun and avoiding work was even more fun. Late night walks, bonfires, barbeques and life threatening rock climbing – it was adrenaline all the way. At the end of the month all I could wish for was more of the same.

April: I am back in hostel for my last month in this city. I will be transferring home next month to complete my internship living with my currently lonely, soon to be engaged sister. As of now, work is scarce and boredom rules. I am trying to manage an anorexic look but being a glutton doesn’t really help. Also considering a trip to Amsterdam in the near future and continuing my further education in the U.S. – but that is still being analysed and re-analysed in my ‘Ideas that can change my life for better/worse’ workshop.
That is all that’s happening in my happening life. And with that I come to an end with banter – buckle your seatbelts because I have a few enlightening posts coming up!

Home Sweet Home Sour

I was home.
That is my excuse.
I know I was ‘planning’ on blogging daily.
But I went home.
I think it is a very excusable excuse.

I had to ‘renew’ my visa.
For those who do not know, I am an NRI (Non Resident Indian – for the ones who have always had trouble with abbreviations). Well I am not exactly an NRI because I am residing in India currently but technically I am not.
I was born and brought up in a country were being born and brought up in the country does not make you a citizen. That is pretty weird according to me.
I was in this country for 16 years of my life. This country is still what I ‘significantly’ refer to as home. And sometimes I feel foreign in both India AND this country. I guess that is what qualifies you as an NRI – feel foreign everywhere.

Well the point is not that.
The point is that the point is actually forgotten.

Let me try beginning again.
I have a residence visa of this country and had to have it renewed so that I can continue to be an NRI.
I took a ticket home.
I got a health check up done to rule out infection by a particular ‘notorious’ virus – which is apparently mandatory for a residence visa (I wonder why!).
I got a passport size photo taken.
I got my visa renewed.
I took a ticket back to India (which is also home, I guess).

So now after a week at home I have learnt that:
I am still an NRI residing in India – which is still confusing.
I am not infected – yet. (applause please)
I still have the skill to look like a stranger in my passport size photos.
Food is all I need to be happy.
I can gain the weight I lost in five years in five days.
People change.
Cities change faster than people.
And most importantly:
Home is sweet when you arrive and sour when you depart – still.

Next time I am home I’ll be a doctor – I think that is cool and more importantly… scary.

Emotional Sex

This is one of my recent conversations with somebody worth having a conversation with. Feel free to comment on the weird nature of my conversations.

Conversationalist: Hey!
Me: (indifferent voice) Hello.
C: (ignoring my indifference) Guess what?
Me: (very indifferent) I don’t know and I don’t care.
C: (unable to ignore my indifference any longer) What happened?
Me: (making things difficult for everybody) Nothing.
C: (playing it safe) Okay.
Me: (frustrated at my inability to make things difficult) Okay? Okay? Did you just say Okay? What is okay? (My voice is turning shrilly)
C: (confused) I don’t know. What do you want?
Me: (need to make things more difficult) YOU call ME up and ask ME what I want! As if you are ready to give me anything I want. You’re so full of shit.
C: (accepting defeat) No, really. What is it that you want?
Me: (marginally satisfied) I don’t really know.
C: (trying to sound comforting) What happened?
Me: (satisfied) Nothing. I am just feeling horrible. I wish I could just cry and cry till my tears ran out.
C: (utterly confused) Why?
Me: (likes the attention) I just want to get rid of this multitude of emotions within me. I need to get rid of it all. I just want to weep my heart out.
C: (tinge of fear) Are you okay? Do you need help?
Me: (anger rising) WTF?!
C: (foot in mouth) I mean do you need my help.
Me: (satisfied) Yes and that is why I am talking to you!
C: (happy with his presence of mind) Okay. So you want to cry?
Me: (can’t make it so easy) No. You are not even listening to me.
C: (confused) Huh? I thought you told me you want to weep till your tears ran out!
Me: (improvising) Not exactly. I just need to vent my emotions. I think even laughing would help. I wish I could laugh till I grew breathless and my cheeks hurt. I wish I could laugh so hard I have tears streaming down my face.
C: (wants to kill himself) So basically you just want tears?
Me: (decides to act as if I did not hear that!) WHAT?
C: (foot in mouth) Nothing. I have the perfect solution for you!
Me: (baffled) You do?!
C: (proudly) I sure as hell do!
Me: (confused. This is new!) Did you become a genius in a minute? How can you know what I want? Even I don’t know what I want!
C: (incomprehensible tone) You need sex. Screw you!
BEEP.

He hung up.
It took me a minute to realise and come to terms with it.
He hung up telling me to go have sex.

I think it is a very enlightening conversation.

I deserve this – I am loving it!

Yellow bulb

Imagine this.

2:30 am - All lights are out in this particular hostel room except for one frustrating flickering yellow bulb. A Surgery textbook is open and the chapter ‘Breast’ waiting anxiously to be devoured. A 22 year old female is sitting on her bed wondering what exactly she is supposed to be doing.
She does not want to read Breast because she does not really find it appealing at this very moment. According to ‘somebody’ she should be blogging because she finally might have the ability to create a masterpiece today (her breath-taking ‘blah blah’ skills seem to have finally impressed). The only setback, unfortunately, is her mind which is currently a squeaky clean slate – cleaner than any slate that has ever been called a clean slate.

I am not afraid of the dark but I get this feeling that somebody is watching me when I am alone, especially at night. It has been there since I was a little girl. In the beginning I used to be certain there was somebody watching. I have even tried catching the culprit red handed. But then, as years went by, I have decided not to care.
If nobody is watching me – Great! I knew I was paranoid anyway.
If somebody is watching me – Great! Enjoy – Whatever is your cup of tea!

The flickering yellow bulb is not frustrating me anymore.
It actually makes the room look very dramatic – like something out of a thriller movie in the 80s. I am waiting desperately for the thrill to arrive in all its splendour.
Just like in the movies when the background music stops, the shot is taken from behind the actor, you know something is about to happen, you can feel the hair rise at the back of your neck, a much awaited chill runs down your spine and you can feel the cold sweat in your palms with your fingers clasped tightly into fists. BOOM!

No BOOM.
No chill down anyone’s spine.
No cold sweat.
No fists.

It is still just me, the chapter on Breast, the flickering yellow bulb and my squeaky clean slate for a mind.

I wish I had more time to actually enjoy the beauty of the world around me more. Most of the time I am so engrossed in the implications and repercussions of something that might not have any implications or repercussions that I fail to fathom the sheer beauty of it that may very well be staring straight at me.

Take for example this yellow bulb.
These are the thoughts that I have had about this bulb:
Why is this bulb flickering?
Is there a loose contact?
Should I try fixing it?
Should I switch it off first?
Will my hands start sweating?
Will I get electrocuted?
Should I wear rubber slippers?
What if nobody finds me after I get electrocuted?
Should I just switch it off and go to sleep?
Why is it so yellow?
Is yellow light really bad for my eyesight?

I wish I could just stare at this flickering yellow bulb and not think of anything even minutely disturbing. I wish I could just look at it and appreciate the beauty it has. The beauty I can appreciate if I put my mind at rest.
Right now I know I can at least try and succeed in putting my mind at rest and appreciating the beauty of things.
What scares me is tomorrow.
Tomorrow, being the day when I see no beauty in anything.
Tomorrow – the day when all that I can see will be disturbing facts and figures; implications and repercussions

This is the biggest flaw of a complex mind.
The wondrous wonder that God created – the human mind.
It is too complex to appreciate simple things without interference.

The yellow bulb just died.

Get a life!

More than six bloody long months since I blogged last.
I disconnected my internet connection as a part of my ‘final year slogging’ routine.
Last night I decided I’d continue blogging and post them later on – ‘later on’ being when I get over this phase of my life which could, quite appropriately, be called ‘living hell’.

Past six months in brief:
It is my last year in college and day after day I am becoming more aware of how the past four and half years in medical school have been such a waste because I seem to not know anything about anything. My ignorance scares me – in addition to scaring my professors, my family and my future patients.
College sucks.
Lovelife was, is and (to my absolute relief) will remain as Rembrandts very aptly put it in the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. theme song ‘dead on arrival’.
Birthday was spent as a glutton.
Depression is rampant.
Bickering is infinite.
Sleep is the only solution – which is scarce, thanks to being an insomniac.
Life, basically, has come to a standstill.

Past six months – not worth blogging about.

My imagination, however, has not let me down.
Very often I think of many things to blog about.
Don’t seem to remember any now.

What I would really like right now would be to ‘get a life’.
It is a phrase that is so often used amongst the ‘cool dudes’ as a derogatory comment towards ‘losers’ that until recently I didn’t really think about what it meant.
Now why would you tell somebody to ‘get a life’?
Obviously it is sort of a piece of advice.
Get a life because you don’t have one and badly need one or maybe because you don’t have a functional or satisfactory ‘life’.
It would be similar to telling someone to get a laptop instead of a PC or to get a microwave instead of an oven or to get a room instead of…
On second thought cancel off the last example – it is inappropriate.

So I need to get a life.
Not that I don’t have one already.
I do have a really slow and a constantly malfunctioning life which obviously needs to be either replaced or renewed.
Replacement is my only option because, frankly, I do not believe in recycled material. No matter what you environmentalists think, recycled material is second hand material.
And I like first hand.
Second hand is unbearable even if it was ‘first handed’ by me (weird thought).
So it is a complete no to recycling this existing life.
I should get rid of it and then get a new one.
Now the question is whether I should get rid of this life before getting a new one or should I try out the new one and make sure it is properly functioning before getting rid of this life.
The logical option would be the latter.

So currently my plan is to think of ways in which I should get rid of this life I have while looking out for a new one.
Meanwhile you people can fill me in on where I can get to shop for cool lives – be warned I like it when I have a lot to choose from.

P.S.: Sorry folks, I have just realised that I have completely lost my marbles.

Blood red, Red blood

I am not a person anyone would call not nasty.
I am also not a person anyone would dare call nasty.
This maybe because either people are too terrified to call me nasty imagining the nasty things I might do to them if I find out what they called me or maybe because I am a neutral person – not too nasty but still sort of nasty all the same.
I like to think the latter is true, even though I like the idea of people being terrified of me.

Whatever you have read till now in this post is pure bullshit.
It has no relevance.
Now read on for the bullshit that I don’t think is bullshit.

I am not a hypocrite.
I am not a coward.
I was always sure about the certainty of the above mentioned two statements – until recently when a casual conversation during lunch made me think twice.
This has disturbed me, terribly.

I am a non vegetarian.
I like vegetables.
I love fruits of all sorts.
But basically I am a non vegetarian.

I have never considered myself to be an activist against cruelty toward animals.
I have never been particularly nasty towards animals as such – I think I am nastier towards babies than animals.
A few days back my unit mates decided to take a break from our anguishing lives and have lunch together.
It was a disturbingly enlightening lunch.
For one, I confirmed the fact that I love clear soup way more than any other sort of soup.
My unit mates realised my stomach’s enormous capacity (blush)
I figured out I can talk against cruelty towards animals while eating chicken and still sound reasonable – I think that is quite a talent.

My unit mates wanted to go fishing – fishing for fish.
I thought it pretty cool until they mentioned about hunting.
And then I clearly remember me asking an extremely dumb question (which does not occur too often) – I asked whether they actually killed animals during hunting.
I wonder why I asked that.
It is clearly one of those dumb blonde questions.
The last thing I want is to transform into one of those.
Maybe I asked the dumb blonde question because I was planning on joining my unit mates for their venture and the thought of me having to kill animals seemed pretty difficult to carry out.
I guess I was just confirming their barbarism.

I do not mind eating what is served on my plate.
But when it comes to having their blood on my hands, when it comes to actually taking away their lives – I think that is crossing a thin line somewhere.

One of my unit mates went on about how deer are awesome catches and how their eyes look awfully innocent as they take their last breath.
This is what I refer to as pure brutality – killing for entertainment.
I think talking about killing an animal and then about how wonderful it looks makes you very little different from a serial killer.
Of course my unit mates do consider me a hypocrite – eating chicken and talking about how horrible it is to kill animals.
The point is I did not kill any of them – it might not make much of a difference to you, but it definitely does to me because I do not have blood on my hands.

And then came the topic about how there are hundreds of people out there getting their hands bloody just for me to eat what I eat.
Well the point is I never asked them to kill and maybe if they stopped I would stop eating meat too – I think.
This makes me a coward.
It makes me a coward who wants others to get their hands dirty to satisfy my needs.

I realised I could never take life out of any living being – if that makes me a coward and a hypocrite I guess I will have to live with it.

I thought I would find it difficult to eat chicken after the disturbing conversation.
But I am fine – still a non vegetarian.

The point is my hands are still not bloody.

Jinxed

AAARRRGGGHHHH!!!!

Have you ever felt like you have been jinxed?
If you have I think you will understand the first line of this post.

The past one month has been the most ‘unhappening’ month of my life.

1) I get posted in a creepy unit.
But I dealt with it.
I mean it was pretty nice towards the end.
It was like a challenge trying to piss them off but not piss them off.
I liked it – especially the last week.

2) Interclass happened.
Last year I could not participate in anything thanks to me being in the stupid “Students’ council” – which ruined my life.
I was hell bent on putting my head into every damn competition this year.
But alas! I’m jinxed!
I am not a sour loser – but there is a limit to which I can accept that I suck!
Not a single prize so far.
Even the teams that I have cheered for are ending up as losers.
I am like the ‘bad luck charm’.

3) Home plans
I decided to go home since there is no point in me declaring myself the biggest loser of all time in college.
But obviously – it can’t work out either, can it?!
My sister has medicine posting and my mother thinks I will burn down the house if I stay home alone.
End of home plans.

3) Blog dumps
I have not had one of those blogging sprees in a long time when I post three to four posts a day.
Not that I have not had ideas to post on.
Today I decide I am going to sit and type it all out and quite as I expected, my internet connection conks off. So I type it all out and save it for posting later – which is God alone knows when!

And how could I forget, half my laundry went missing last week.
Every salwar kameez has either the salwar or the kameez missing.
I am running out of ideas to mix and match.
I broke two pairs of sandals in the past week.
I have a strong feeling I am going to break a bone soon.

My life officially sucks!

I have a feeling it is going to get worse.
Probably I am going to hit a dump in academics too.

Bring it on!!!

Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!
(Always wanted to use this dialogue somewhere – those of you who think it is not befitting the situation can please go and shoot themselves!)

P.S.: To all my followers (especially the new ones) – you guys are the tiny specks of dust reflecting miniscule rays of sunshine in this utter darkness I find myself lost in.
Thank you for nothing.
Don’t you dare stop following me!
I’ll hunt you down and blow your brains out.
I still have my bazooka.

Sorry, I have lost it.
I will post more nonsense soon.

History mystery

“In 90% of cases a correct diagnosis can be made with the help of a well elicited history alone”.

Two words – that is all I have to say as a response to this overtly over used statement in Medicine.
You can use your imagination to figure what those two words might be.

Almost a month since my Medicine posting began and I have learnt that histories elicited always has loop holes – always! No matter how many times you go over it and think of the wildest questions to ask, the history is never ‘well elicited’ – which I think is precisely why histories don’t really diagnose 90% of cases.

For my first case discussion I had a patient who clearly explained to me about how he came to the hospital with cough and nothing else. But apparently he came in so breathless he was blue. I asked a hundred times (and I am not exaggerating) about whether he had breathlessness – the answer was always ‘No’.
But on the day of my case presentation when the doctor badgered him about whether he had breathlessness the ‘easily manipulated’ patient completely agreed on having breathlessness which left me with a history worth zilch.

Incorrect history with chief complaint gone wrong – when you have this on your hands it is quite specifically the right time to commit suicide.

For my second case discussion my history was ‘incomplete’ because I did not elicit the history of the exact pattern of ‘waxing and waning’ of the fever the patient had when he was admitted nine months ago. I was apparently supposed to get the day to day, hour to hour history of the fever he suffered from nine months ago. I really do not understand how the patient is supposed to remember such useless (to him) details about his fever when me, being a doctor, cannot remember when I had my last bout of the flu.

Incomplete history leading to inability in reaching a diagnosis only because of the incompetence of the doctor eliciting the history – if you have already committed suicide, do it again.

My third case discussion was a classic. I got a patient who has been suffering from jaundice for the past 30 years and a hernia for 15 years. He had a good memory. My history had everything in it – everything to the point I even mentioned (how, when and why) he scratched his butt every single time he did.
Apparently my history was ‘irrelevant’.
The line between ‘irrelevance’ and ‘incomplete’ is so thin that it really does not exist. It exists only for doctors who are hell bent on giving you a hard time in posting.

Irrelevant history that deviates attention of the doctor from the real complain leading to incorrect treatment modalities – if you have already committed suicide twice, do it yet again.

My fourth case discussion is yet to come, Parkinsonism – in a week's time.
I have faced the consequences of eliciting an incorrect history, incomplete history and irrelevant history.

I honestly wonder what it is going to be this time.
Frankly, I don’t really give a damn.

The day the dam broke

I hate final year.
I knew I would not like it.
I knew I might hate it.
But now – it is different.
I know I hate final year.

It has been about ten days since final year has begun – feels like forever though. Final year has provided the following to me in ten days:
1) Free electroconvulsive therapy for my hair to make sure it permanently stays at a strict perpendicular angle to my scalp.
2) Dark circle enhancer to make sure my eyes look like they are disappearing into monstrous black holes.
3) A hunch (thanks to my college bag which contains the ‘essentials of Clinical Medicine’) that would have made Quasimodo look like Prince Charming next to me.
4) A mask like face that would put any patient suffering from Parkinsonism to shame.
5) A mind that is so disoriented that I take more than 30 seconds to respond to a question asking me my name (because I am too busy trying to figure out the ‘medical significance’)
6) All this in addition to the 7:30 am to 8:30 pm schedule after which we are supposed to read every possible book of Medicine and become enlightened overnight.

The day I landed here I was welcomed with the marvellous news of my being posted in Medicine under a Professor who is pretty famous for his ways.
I did not think much of it at the time.

For a person with an imagination as wild as mine I express very little in public. I have always kept my emotions in check – maybe that energy is what is transformed in the form of my wild imaginative skills. As of now, my imagination is on vacation.

Each unit have six people posted. Three out of six have already broken their dams – me being one among them. I hate admitting that I shed tears because I know for a fact that this will only result in satisfaction, if not sheer delight, from the people I am posted under. I do not understand if it is their sadistic nature, frustrated lives or blown up egos that infuriates me the most – all I know, as of now, is that rage is very closely associated with the colour red. Red is the only colour I see when I look at their faces.

It might do me good down the lane. The torture might result in me trying harder – but there is only so much a human can tolerate. I am fast approaching the limit. One of my unit mates has already gone into severe depression and almost had a breakdown a few days back. I wonder when my turn will arrive.

But one thing is for sure – I sure as hell will not let it show to them. I will not knowingly satisfy their sadistic whims. It is going to take them more effort to make my dam break again.

I miss blogging.

If anyone out there had a doubt if I were crazy, I assure them – I definitely am crazy now.

Now who is laughing?!

It is me!
This post is to let all my dedicated followers and comrades on the path to enlightenment know that I have had the last laugh.
I – referring to me – the Enlightened one.

I have received my next award!!
(Everyone is requested to applaud at this point. You also have permission to give me a standing ovation. It would be even better if you would get up on your chair and affirm with utmost sincerity my sheer awesomeness.)

Thank you. Thank you.

Now for my acceptance speech:
*drum roll*
This award is dedicated to the fool who stopped following my blog. You are lucky I don’t remember who you are. I sincerely hope you are enjoying rotting in hell. And if you have not noticed, I have 13 followers - again! So no one really misses you.
Ahem!
Thank you once again, I couldn’t have done it without you!

It is called the ‘Brilliante Weblog Premio Awards 2008’ – pretty brilliant name.
And for those of you who can’t wait to get a look at it:



Now I have to nominate seven people who are worthy of this splendid award.

1) Arjun: I don’t know if you have received this award already because I am sure you win quite a few. This is my gift to you.

2) Tys on ice: For making complex issues seem simple at hard times, you deserve way better than this.

3) Sandeep Balan: Again – In the hope of him finishing his ‘Blonde’ story.

4) Keyzer Soze: Again – In the hope he will keep posting and not give up on the blogosphere.

5) Genesis of Oblivion: Again – In the hope of him accepting my first award!

6) Kapila: As an aid for her to believe in herself and realize she is truly brilliant.

7) Another blogger: She is awesome - Can I award myself again?

Well with that we come to the end of yet another truly enlightening, marvelous post by yours truly…

P.S.: For the visually impaired blog readers – there is a poll being conducted in this blog. You are requested to kindly vote so that your voting rights are not withdrawn.
The last I checked there was just ONE vote – very disappointing.

Laugh else I will shoot you

What is happening to the world?!
That is a rhetorical question – please do not attempt to answer it.

The economic crisis does not concern me – yet.
So I am not interested in talking about salaries and expenditure.
To hell with how much money you make – it sure is not satisfying you, and my bet is it is a matter of utter dissatisfaction for me too!

Here I am, depressed as hell.
Look at my posts!
Two posts on negative emotions – this is really bad.
And the fact that none of you, I repeat, NONE OF YOU faithful ‘followers’ pointed it out makes me wonder what sort of depressed, lonely, frustrated buffoons I have for followers.

I also noted today that the number of followers I have just went down by one.
Whoever this person might be is definitely lucky because I can’t seem to remember who it is.
Now, I am pretty sure the ‘ex-follower’ is under the false impression that he is more enlightened than me and does not need to follow my posts anymore to attain enlightenment – well you, Mr Negative I.Q., are a fool - that is enlightenment, for you!!
My blog and I are much better without you following!
And you shall rot in hell for ‘de-following’ my blog – unless, of course, you decide to follow my blog again.

Now I know what the rest of you are thinking.
“This lady has gone bonkers. She is totally out of her mind. She is so desperate for followers. Maybe I should not follow her.”
Well, you know what – go ahead.
You will rot in hell too!

Sometimes I think I must become a clown – I definitely look like one.
My nose has the same bulbous end and if I have a cold it turns red too - but it gets leaky, I wonder if clowns have leaky noses.
My depression seems to be depressing my parents.
Hence I am no longer depressed now.
And nor am I going to post depressing posts.
I am going to try and crack you up – so you better laugh!

I was wondering what would really make me laugh.
And all I could think of was making someone slip on a banana peel.
I know it is pretty sadistic – but that would definitely make me laugh.
I wonder if that is okay for a doctor.
I wonder if a badly injured patient would make me laugh – that would be really disturbing – for the patient, of course.

So what makes you laugh?
If I were in front of you right now with a bazooka (I love the sound of that - bazzoookaahh) threatening you to laugh at my posts, would you?

I have always wanted to say ‘Hasta la vista, baby’.
I hate the ‘baby’ bit though.
Maybe I will modify it to ‘Hasta la vista, moron’.
I never liked Arnold though – I think he did the world a favour by quitting movies and joining politics.
Maybe that is why people keep voting for him – because they are so grateful they don’t have to watch him ‘trying’ to act anymore!

Well, whatever it may be, the point is simple:
You’d better laugh at my posts!!

Self worth

There are certain moments in life which make you wonder about yourself.

Every three years I get reminded of how worthless I am.
It first happened when I was fourteen.
I had won a national award and was very content with myself.
At least until my academic performance went below what I considered to be my standards. But then I managed to pick myself up and fared well until I passed out of school. I fell sick and I fared badly in my exams for entering into medical schools in the country. I managed to get through one but not my dream college.
This was by far the worst let down in my life – until a few days back.

I love what I learn.
Even though I bicker at the amount I have to study, I really enjoy learning what I have to learn. I have always been an honours student in medicine.
And even though this year was filled with too many extra curricular activities, I was pretty sure I could do a good job.
But I did not.

I have passed into final year.
I have not failed in any subject.
But my marks have made me question whether I am of any good at anything at all.

Now I know this is pretty stupid.
I hate people who bicker about their marks.
But this is not about the marks; this is about me being good at what I have chosen as my profession.
I used to think this was my forte. No matter what, I could do well in this.
But apparently that is not the case.

I question my self worth – for those who have not figured it out already, I am undergoing the symptoms of moderate to severe depression.
I have tried out all possible ways to get out of it.
Chocolates, shopping, hugs, tears, food – even exercise, apparently exercise releases serotonin which curbs depression.
And I do want to get out of this state.
More than anything I want to get back to college and start working hard to prove to myself more than anybody else that I am good at this.

But the human mind, I tell you, it enjoys the feeling of helplessness.
It enjoys feeling weak and depressed. It requires courage to stand up and move on.
It is easy to preach, easier to use big words and philosophy.
But when you are the one in the dumps you jus keep falling over and over again.

It is like this little rat gnawing at the back of my head.
A voice calling out and reminding me, every single time I start to forget, that I am not supposed to be happy – that I am a good for nothing.

I hate this state I am in.
I know there are many of you out there in the same state I am talking about.

This post is just to let you know, you are not alone.

I will get through this.
No matter how many times I have to pick myself up, nobody is going to tell me I am a loser.

Frustration

Frustration – the state of being frustrated.
I always liked the word ‘frustrated’.
There are some words in the English language which can convey its meaning without the help of a dictionary. I think there is a tad bit of frustration in the very mouthing of the word ‘frustrated’ – I think the R’s take the credit for this.

This state of being frustrated, I think, is one which can very well be fodder for thought.

Frustration arises simply from a circumstance when one is reminded of his helplessness. The more helpless you feel, the more you want to vent the emotional build up due to your helplessness – some turn it into depression while others into anger.
The depression is usually associated with long standing helplessness whereas the anger is, as is usually associated with anger, one which arises without thought.
The only difference in anger which arises from helplessness is that it is directed at not one person in particular. It is directed at lots of people, circumstances, choices, sometimes oneself – it is directed at everything that can be blamed.
And slowly this anger is directed at not only those who might have been responsible for the state of helplessness but at everyone.

Frustration is frustrating for everyone.
Not only does the person hate being the way he is – helpless and thwarted, but also everyone who comes across a frustrated person seem to catch the ‘disease’.
This disease spreads unless you have in you immunity against it.
This immunity which helps protects you from acquiring the disease called ‘frustration’ can be of two types:

1) Accepting your current state of helplessness as a part of what one often refers to as ‘fate’ and letting it be. This can often lead to depression – the long standing effect of helplessness. These people accept defeat too quickly. They do not believe their beliefs are worth believing in.

2) Fighting your helplessness and not accepting defeat. Only a person who accepts being thwarted can be thwarted. It all lies in the mind. There are two ways of fighting your helplessness:

- You deny it. You do not give up and keep banging your head against the closed door which was once an opportunity. This is called being in a state called ‘denial’. I feel sorry for these people.

- You accept the fact that the opportunity is lost and form a Plan B. A plan that can very much lead you to the very same goal. And there is always a Plan B waiting to be constructed.

I am not entirely sure if there are more ways to immunise yourself against frustration. I have not given it much thought.
I decided to post on frustration because of three reasons:

- I was frustrated because my father wanted to watch the news. The other TV is no longer working and my mother did not want me to go back to bed (all I have been doing is eating and sleeping). I really do not understand the obsession fathers have with the news channel!
My Plan B worked though – the details of Plan B are however beyond the scope of this blog because of its sheer ingenuity.

- I was frustrated because I have been experiencing a little difficulty in communicating with a couple of my friends (The reason being already mentioned in my previous post – New Year resolutions!)
In this case I am sure time will work its wonders and I just have to wait.

- I watched a movie about a boy becoming a man of religion not out of his own accord, only because of what is supposedly read in his horoscope. The boy was clearly frustrated. I felt sorry for him.
His Plan B was not very creative and hence was not successful.

I love blogging – gets rid of frustration!

Then the tag came along

I have been planning on posting about certain specific subjects of interest (MY interest) for quite a few days now. But something or the other just seems to come up.

Now, this tag has come along.
Not that I have anything against tagging but the idea of answering questions about myself does not hold much interest for me.
So this tag is being answered for the ‘pleasure’ of my readers alone.
And for the first time I am posting more for my readers and less for myself – this being a very generous gesture should be acknowledged by all.

A humongous Thank you to Keyzer Soze for tagging me – it is an opportunity to make my blog almost as versatile as yours. But there are no hugs and slaps on the back attached with this thank you! I am going to try answering this tag as much to the point as I can – God help me!
I hope it is not boring.

Here goes:

1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it:

I do not have many scars to boast about. I wish I did though. I have even considered self mutilation for more scars – scars make one look more dangerous.
Of the ones I have here is how I got them:

1) A 5 inch long vertical scar near my left knee:
I was about twelve or thirteen when I got this one. I was into practising acrobatics on my study chair then – which made my chair more of a rocking chair than a study chair. One particular afternoon, I had placed my chair right in between my bed and my cupboard so that I could ‘restrict’ entry into my hiding place. The study chair served as the gate. After I made sure nobody was interested in entering my territory I tried slipping in via the space between the back of my chair and the bed, I did not know there was a nail poking right out of the back of the chair. The more I tried to slip out of the tiny space the worse the wound got. Finally, my mom rescued me – so much for ‘restricting entry’. I was too stubborn to get the wound sutured after getting the tetanus shots. I went for my singing classes the same day and ended up howling rather than singing.
Well, I miss my chair.

2) A 3 inch long horizontal scar on my left shin:
This is a mysterious scar. I was playing around with my uncle and the next thing I know is a stinging pain and unstoppable bleeding. I still wonder how I managed to hurt myself because we were not playing with anything that was sharp enough to cause the wound. This time I was too stubborn to get the sutures AND the tetanus shots. I am glad I did not die of tetanus.

3) A funny looking circular scar on my left knee:
I fell about a year back. I am a klutz. Nobody saw me fall – I think.

4) A curvilinear scar running halfway across my right hand middle finger:
This story has already been blogged about in ‘The middle finger’. In short, it was all thanks to a pedestal fan I tried saying ‘Hello’ to. Four deep stitches, eight superficial stitches, an elephantine dose of anaesthesia, a tetanus shot which immobilized my left arm for 3 days and one month of not being able to use my right hand has taught me to be rude to pedestal fans.

5) A smooth double scar on my scalp:
Now you must be wondering what a double scar is. It is acquired with much effort when there is a pre existing scar and you get a wound almost right on it again.
The first scar was thanks to my super dumb status when I was 3 years old. I still cannot believe I could have been so stupid then.
My mom had left me on a swing and first I tried swinging after letting go of my left hand.
I was quite successful.
Then I tried letting go of my right hand.
I was still successful.
And then, I think, I imagined myself to be Superman.
I let go of both my hands. And to my delight, just like Superman I went flying. I landed with a thud.
Apparently I was quite a brave child and did not wince even once when the ten stitches were sutured into my scalp – I wonder if my then empty skull had anything to do with it.
The wound which made it a double scar was deeper. I was about ten years old and I had committed the grave mistake of tickling my elder sister (along with irritating the hell out of her). And so, she tried tickling me. I am not ticklish. Her efforts at tickling me made me mock her.
I overdid it. I slipped. I fell.
I hit my head at the edge of a table and did not know I had hurt myself until the blood was pouring down my face.
My sisters freaked – they thought I was going to die!!!
Stitches again, this time I had to try real hard not to wince because I had to keep up my image of being the ‘brave girl’ – I tell you living up to others’ expectations really hurts!
I had a birthday party to attend that evening. I loved the attention. I hated looking like an Egyptian mummy.
And hence two head injuries sealed my future of eternal insanity.

Most of the other scars I have painfully attained have faded out.
I really want a scar across my eyebrow – been dreaming of it ever since I was a little girl.

2. What does your phone look like?

I think it looks like a phone. I think you will also think it looks like a phone.
I have three phones as of now – one Nokia 6125 flip which I rarely use, then my college phone a Nokia 6610i and thirdly (my personal favourite) an orange Nokia 1100.
I use them interchangeably according to where I am going, who I am going with and what I feel like carrying with me.

3. What is on the walls of your bedroom?

My hostel room is where I currently stay, so I think ‘my bedroom’ can be considered synonymous to my hostel room.
- The walls are filled with bright pink and green chart paper cut into circles and stuck randomly – some of which have fallen off
- Ten of my favourite birthday cards that I have saved over the years
- A couple of photographs of myself, family and friends over the course of the past ten years.
- Lots of posters some with hot men and some with wild animals on them. And then there is one particular poster with babies that I am not too fond of but got as a birthday gift.
- A couple of inspirational quotes and a couple of funny ones.
- And I hang my innumerable handbags on my wall.
That is about it.
The image in this post has my wall in the background - 'My middle finger'

4. What is your current desktop picture?

Currently it is a black and white picture of my darling, Kurt Cobain and his guitar on a couch.

5. Do you believe in gay marriage?

I believe in following my beliefs. Since I am not gay this puts me in a tough position. I think every gay person should follow his belief and go get married if he/she wants to. I do not believe in it nor do I plan on following it.

6. What do you want more than anything right now?

I want to eat to my hearts content.
I want to sleep until I no longer feel sleepy.
I want peace of mind.
I want to find nowhere (more than anything else).

7. What time were you born?

11:50pm on 12th of September 1987.

10. Last person who made you cry?

I was under the overbearing and excessive influence of alcohol. I do not know what or who made me cry. I jus know I was bawling out loud and threatening to murder God.

11. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?

I love all Givenchy perfumes especially Organza Indecence and Extravagance d'Amarige.

12. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like in the opposite sex?

Hair colour – should be salt and pepper. I know it is weird but I love a teeny weeny little bit of grey in otherwise dark hair.
Eye colour – I think I like brown or maybe grey.

13. What are you listening to?

Right now I am listening to ‘Hole in my soul’ – Aerosmith. The last song was ‘Hallelujah’ – Rufus Wainwright. The next song is ‘Rape me’ – Nirvana.
Do not be judgemental.
I love my music – if you don’t it is your fault, not mine.

14. Do you get scared of the dark?

Until my eyes get accustomed to the darkness I feel uncomfortable, not scared though. I was never scared of the dark, even as a child. I do not like the idea of not being able to see and having to feel my way around in the dark though. I have an awesome sense of smell and hearing which certainly helps– I think the credit goes to my high myopic eyes.

15. Do you like painkillers?

Painkillers are usually associated with pain, so I am not sure if I like them.
I like the colour of Brufen.
I had to take suppository painkillers around five years ago – it goes without saying what I felt about them. They gave me a real tough time; it was way better bearing the pain than shoving those slippery tiny rockets up my ass.
I have had Tramadol (an opiate derivative) twice in my life. The first time was quite a trip but the second, unfortunately, did not have any of its usual ‘much-looked-forward-to’ effect.

16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?

No, I am not.
I have never been.
I don’t think I ever will be.

17. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?

This will be a never ending answer if I try too hard to answer it.
Right at this very moment, I feel like having a Mc chicken along with one of those yummy apple pies from Mc Donalds.

18. Who was the last person who made you mad?

Not a person – My university examinations did drive me mad though.
I was angry at the world. I was angry at myself. I was so angry at everyone.
I am glad they are done with.

19. Who was the last person who made you smile?

The last person who made me smile, I think, was the same person who tagged me. Something he said a while ago made me smile, I can’t remember what exactly.
Food always makes me smile by the way!

And hence I complete this task!
It has been a very long and tedious process.
I tag Genesis of Oblivion – I want to know how much more similar we can get!

Three days

Thanks to the remarkable advances in the means of communication today, many a times one tends to know better about people he has never met in his life than about the person he lives with.

I am good friends with quite a few people I have never met; some of them I do not plan on meeting - ever, while some of them I look forward to meet.
I spend four days at my hometown in India recently.
It was wonderful to be home.
I usually get bored easily at home, but this time it was different – I always found myself in a position where I had something to do, somewhere to be, someone to meet…

This post is about the time I spend with Mr S, from my point of view.
I wonder if he will post his point of view.

Day 0
This is the day I left Mangalore – destination Trivandrum.
I did not sleep the whole night, was busy cleaning up the post examination mess, packing and most importantly partying.

I had breakfast which did manage to make me momentarily happy until I remembered the ‘waiting list’ status of my 16 hour train journey and the impending trekking trip hunting for a pair of trousers for my brother in law as an anniversary gift in a shop located right in the middle of an extremely disorganised construction site.

The trekking trip was not fun – thanks to the extreme difficulty I was facing trying to keep my sleepy eyes open.
The waiting list status became an RAC seat.
I had no idea what that meant until my friend explained RAC meant I was supposed to share the lower side berth with a stranger.
The journey was almost uneventful except for the fact that I was surrounded by under-fives. There were six babies in my bogey – and I am not exaggerating.

Sometimes I really wonder if there is someone up there trying to teach me a lesson.
I hate babies more today, if that is possible.

Day 1
I reached Trivandrum at 5:30 in the morning – sleepy but mentally as sound as I can be expected to be.
I was supposed to meet S at nine thirty, but my being human led me to sleep till ten thirty. I met him at eleven.

I realised the following:
- Photos can lie, but not much.
- It is not easy to make a conversation in person.
- People sound different in person.
- I hate silence.
- Jobless girls waiting for hours at ice cream parlours for their dates to arrive distract men who do not have the power to make conversation with a friend they know for the last six months.
- Not everyone likes eating ice creams from cones – I did not know that!!!
- I hate being aware of someone judging every action of mine, makes me self conscious and I freeze.
- Tastes in music can differ to the point that the argument can never be settled – ever.

It was quite enlightening.
So I met S again in the evening.
This time we went to a lighthouse.

I realised the following:
- Impressions made on first meetings can be wrong.
- With time the conversation becomes easy.
- It irritates men to have to walk 200m due to lack of parking space.
- It is difficult to climb a ladder with a bottle of water in one hand.
- I am STILL scared of heights.
- The fear of heights can be overcome with the help of scenic beauty.
- I love letting my feet dangle, sitting on top of a lighthouse.
- Silence is not so bad after all.
- The water sparkles more just before sunset.
- There are people alike me who enjoy making faces for photographs.
- Climbing down a ladder is easier than climbing up one with a bottle in one hand.
- Pre planning sucks.
- The first meeting may very well seem like not the first meeting.
- Light houses are beautiful, awesome, amazing, lovely, marvellous places.
- Traffic in Trivandrum can be a real pain thanks to people deciding to celebrate God-alone-knows-what (not Christmas) on the roads.
- Returning home late on the first day back can also be a pain.

Day 2
Next we met on Christmas. Christmas eve was spend hogging with cousins and family. S came home and stayed home for more than 4 hours before we decided to go to the zoo.

I realised the following:
- My mother can talk for hours with friends of mine with whom I have difficulty carrying on a decent conversation.
- My sister has inherited the same trait from my mother.
- It takes time to decide where to go out to in Trivandrum because there are very few places that may serve to be interesting.
- My house can be interesting.
- The art gallery in Trivandrum is awesome.
- I appreciate art – I did not know that.
- The zoo is humongous; even if you are walking at a brisk pace it takes more than half an hour to see the whole place.
- I am not fond of birds and primates; there are other people like me.
- The King cobra in the zoo looks like a dark python and moves at a pace of a sloth.
- I am fond of snakes and reptiles.
- Lions pee on you if they get angry.
- If S had not tried to be a hero, both of us would have been peed on by a lion.
- I do not like the idea of getting peed on.
- S would love to be peed on by a lion.
- Animals have a tendency to get perturbed by my presence – I wonder why.
- My presence in the zoo was responsible for all the animals being extra active and putting on a good show to all the people who visited the zoo that day.
- The roads are empty on Christmas.
- Reaching back home earlier than what is expected is considered mysterious.

Day 3
This was my last day at Trivandrum. I finished my packing in advance because the shortcomings of sleepless nights due to packing were still fresh in my mind – Day 0.
S and I decided to go grab a bite for brunch. We ended up going to the museum.

I realised the following:
- I am usually fond of museums but not all museums.
- The Trivandrum museum is very disappointing.
- My sense of direction is still at its worst.
- I do not enjoy observing stone idols which are 600 years old.
- I enjoy observing table cloths, trays and ‘royal chairs’ which are hundreds of years old – they really look funny.
- I lose my appetite after a disappointing museum trip.
- Even if the museum is disappointing, the conversation can keep you animate and interested.
- Homes which have been transformed into tiny eat outs are beautiful.
- I love Italian food, even if it is for brunch.
- Pizzas can be dissatisfying and soups can be impressive.
- Not everyone has a horrible sense of direction like me; S always knew the way back home – which was a relief.
- Saying ‘goodbye’ sucks, it is better to say ‘see you later’.
- I had an amazing time at Trivandrum, thanks to a friend I met for the first time three days before my departure.


So next time you are planning on meeting up a friend you have made thanks to the world wide web or other advances in networking – make sure you keep an open mind. The first few hours might seem like hell but then it keeps getting better.
Thank you, Mr S!!!