Cried for the first time in the new office today. First time in five months. That’s certainly an improvement from my previous job, but I didn’t expect it to happen here. I’ve been wondering for a few days. Is it me, or them? Does everyone suck, or do I fall into the same sucky patterns everywhere?
Saturday, April 30, 2016
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Is lasagna code for something?
My best friend from school left the country this morning to live her (hopefully) happy married life. I’d known this was going to happen for years, but when she called this morning, half an hour before her flight was taking off, I wanted to cry. It could be because I’d just woken up from a night of 10-hour sleep after two sleepless nights, or because I hadn’t been able to talk to her properly for the last one week, but I think the real reason was that she was, simply, going so far away. Now when I go home I won’t be able to see her.
***
Speaking of home, I’m going to Jaipur day after tomorrow for the weekend for a friend’s wedding. It’s nothing to do with my stand on marriage anymore, but I think I’ve started to hate friends’ weddings because they’re taking away all my vacation days. I’m also a little worried about the parents’ reaction to a few things that I don’t want to think about right now, but won’t be able to escape there.
***
Work was, simply put, hell last week. It gave me flashbacks from my old job, and that is never a good thing. I spent some time trying to understand if it’s me, if I give out the doormat vibe sometimes, but I don’t think so. I will have to figure this out if I see a repeat of last week happening again, because there is a reason I quit my last job. And, as predicted, on a regular basis my work has tripled because I got a promotion. Can someone please give me tips on how to run a team and how to be a boss of, like, three people? I don’t feel equipped to handle this kind of responsibility.
***
I went out with my journalism school friends last week, and it was a nice chill dinner with a lot of grown-up talk, like marriage (duh) and grocery shopping. Two years ago we’d have laughed if one of us had suggested going to The Big Chill instead of having a low-key house party. Now, some of us are trying to quit cigarettes and some of us are trying to quit each other.
My best friend from back home was in town last weekend and stayed with me for a bit. Not only did we have an insane amount of fun, but she also cooked enough food for me to last three days. Which basically means that I am sorted till I go home, then when I go home my mother will send food, and I don’t have to cook anything for at least 10 days now. This is a blessing.
***
The way my day started, I’m not surprised I ended it by crying on the sofa while watching One Day on TV. If someone ever asks me to describe my 20s, I’d ask them to read this book. Please read it if you haven’t already.
***
The line in the title of this post was said in the context of The Boy, but what do I say about him that I haven’t already said in the last few years? I really, really hate being this cliché.
***
Speaking of home, I’m going to Jaipur day after tomorrow for the weekend for a friend’s wedding. It’s nothing to do with my stand on marriage anymore, but I think I’ve started to hate friends’ weddings because they’re taking away all my vacation days. I’m also a little worried about the parents’ reaction to a few things that I don’t want to think about right now, but won’t be able to escape there.
***
Work was, simply put, hell last week. It gave me flashbacks from my old job, and that is never a good thing. I spent some time trying to understand if it’s me, if I give out the doormat vibe sometimes, but I don’t think so. I will have to figure this out if I see a repeat of last week happening again, because there is a reason I quit my last job. And, as predicted, on a regular basis my work has tripled because I got a promotion. Can someone please give me tips on how to run a team and how to be a boss of, like, three people? I don’t feel equipped to handle this kind of responsibility.
***
I went out with my journalism school friends last week, and it was a nice chill dinner with a lot of grown-up talk, like marriage (duh) and grocery shopping. Two years ago we’d have laughed if one of us had suggested going to The Big Chill instead of having a low-key house party. Now, some of us are trying to quit cigarettes and some of us are trying to quit each other.
My best friend from back home was in town last weekend and stayed with me for a bit. Not only did we have an insane amount of fun, but she also cooked enough food for me to last three days. Which basically means that I am sorted till I go home, then when I go home my mother will send food, and I don’t have to cook anything for at least 10 days now. This is a blessing.
***
The way my day started, I’m not surprised I ended it by crying on the sofa while watching One Day on TV. If someone ever asks me to describe my 20s, I’d ask them to read this book. Please read it if you haven’t already.
***
The line in the title of this post was said in the context of The Boy, but what do I say about him that I haven’t already said in the last few years? I really, really hate being this cliché.
Sunday, April 3, 2016
Flying high
It’s 1.50am on a Saturday night, I’m unwell, but I can’t sleep. Plus I’ve been meaning to blog for a while, so this is as good a time as any.
This time last Saturday, I was in Bir, Himachal Pradesh, slightly stoned and very happy. For the first time in my life, I had a four-day weekend off, and instead of going home, I went on a trip with a friend. In the first week of March, I wrote that I wanted, no needed, to do something crazy, like bungee jumping, and in the last week of March, I did. This has literally never happened with me in the past, considering I am 100% not an adrenaline junkie.
When we were deciding where to go that long weekend, the names Bir-Billing kept coming up, but the only thing to do there is paragliding, which sounded scary and insane and totally not-me. We kept trying to put off booking the bus tickets because of a host of reasons, until it became clear that if we didn’t book them we wouldn’t be able to go. So finally we decided to go to McLeodganj, and wing it for Bir-Billing. Except that McLeodganj was a shitstorm.
I can’t say much because I also went there from Delhi, but literally half of Delhi was there. It was bursting with people, we were staying in a shit hotel, and we had to walk everywhere. Had it not been for Illiterati Café, I would have started crying. We left that town in 20 hours, after I did some underhanded deal to get some hash, which after frantic Googling, my friend and I confirmed was the same thing as charas. I know, didn't instill any confidence in us either.
The drive from McLeodganj to Bir was gorgeous enough to lift our spirits, and when we reached our resort in Bir, it was clear that we’d stepped into Eat Pray Love land. There were just trees and butterflies and dogs and three people serving us average food and dubious looking nimbu-paani. The weather app was telling us that it could rain any time, so when we were asked if we wanted to go paragliding right away, we said yes without thinking too much about it.
Sleep-deprived and a little grumpy, we got into the car that would take us to Billing, the world’s second-highest paragliding site. The road trip was scary intense, and my friend and I held hands the whole time. The only time we felt vaguely okay was when Main Hoon Hero Tera came on the music player of the car, and she said, ‘Bhai hamare saath hain’. We giggled and prayed and second guessed the entire thing, and somehow reached Billing, which was breathtaking. The snow-capped mountains were just a stone’s throw away, and while I was busy clicking pictures, my friend was losing her shit.
She didn’t want to do it, she didn’t want to die, and she was shaking a little bit. I was surprisingly game for the whole thing, or maybe I wasn’t trying to freak her out more. I’m not sure, because before I knew it, she had run off a cliff and was in the air. Within two minutes, a big backpack was being strapped on to me and I was also being told to run off a cliff with my pilot. Um, no freaking way, I thought, as I ran. The next thing I know, I’m flying. I’m in the air, in the sky, and everything is tiny as fuck.
It was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life, and almost indescribable. My mind went blank and I was just happy. You can see it in my dorky photos and video. When I finally landed, and hurt my ankles, I ran to my still shaken-up friend, who definitely didn’t enjoy it as much as I did. We had some incredible nimbu-paani with trembling hands in the middle of that field, and went back to our resort for a nap.
We woke up four hours later, finally rested and very hungry. We asked for some momos and wai-wai, which were turning out to be our best options for food in the trip. My friend rolled joints, taught me how to, and opened a bottle of wine. Over lots of emotional songs and unnecessary cigarettes, we talked endlessly until the resort dudes brought us dinner. We went to bed with headaches. I woke up in the middle of the night to call my best friend back home, and ask her if I should call my ex (ex? I don’t know what to call him), and ask him if the rumours were true and he was getting married. I don’t remember how she talked me out of it.
For the next couple of days, we literally left that resort only to go to the ATM and a monastery. We stayed in our little cottage, stoned and full of stories, happy, hungry and restless about what we were doing with our lives. When we came back to Delhi, we’d checked off some things off our bucket list, and tried to pretend like that was enough.
***
Two years ago in April, I was asking my boss to be transferred to Jaipur in my old job, and acting like my life was getting over. In my defense, it really did feel that way. Two years later, it’s a different job, but it’s the same city, and when you live in the same city as your past, you sometimes run into it.
I don’t want to write about what happened on Thursday in detail here, because it was equal parts awkward and heart-breaking. For almost 10 minutes, I was pretty certain I was going to start howling in public. I didn’t. The feeling passed, I survived, and I was unexpectedly okay the next morning. What I didn’t know was that I were to have some kind of a blast from the past weekend.
The boy, my ex, whatever, I don’t even know what to call him, he got back in touch, and we seem to be falling back into our exhausting routine while avoiding the question of what the fuck we're really doing.
I don’t know man. I don’t have time for this right now. If everything goes according to plan, my work is about to be tripled in office, and it’s so hot my brain refuses to work half the time.
But hey, at least now I know how to fly.
This time last Saturday, I was in Bir, Himachal Pradesh, slightly stoned and very happy. For the first time in my life, I had a four-day weekend off, and instead of going home, I went on a trip with a friend. In the first week of March, I wrote that I wanted, no needed, to do something crazy, like bungee jumping, and in the last week of March, I did. This has literally never happened with me in the past, considering I am 100% not an adrenaline junkie.
When we were deciding where to go that long weekend, the names Bir-Billing kept coming up, but the only thing to do there is paragliding, which sounded scary and insane and totally not-me. We kept trying to put off booking the bus tickets because of a host of reasons, until it became clear that if we didn’t book them we wouldn’t be able to go. So finally we decided to go to McLeodganj, and wing it for Bir-Billing. Except that McLeodganj was a shitstorm.
I can’t say much because I also went there from Delhi, but literally half of Delhi was there. It was bursting with people, we were staying in a shit hotel, and we had to walk everywhere. Had it not been for Illiterati Café, I would have started crying. We left that town in 20 hours, after I did some underhanded deal to get some hash, which after frantic Googling, my friend and I confirmed was the same thing as charas. I know, didn't instill any confidence in us either.
The drive from McLeodganj to Bir was gorgeous enough to lift our spirits, and when we reached our resort in Bir, it was clear that we’d stepped into Eat Pray Love land. There were just trees and butterflies and dogs and three people serving us average food and dubious looking nimbu-paani. The weather app was telling us that it could rain any time, so when we were asked if we wanted to go paragliding right away, we said yes without thinking too much about it.
Sleep-deprived and a little grumpy, we got into the car that would take us to Billing, the world’s second-highest paragliding site. The road trip was scary intense, and my friend and I held hands the whole time. The only time we felt vaguely okay was when Main Hoon Hero Tera came on the music player of the car, and she said, ‘Bhai hamare saath hain’. We giggled and prayed and second guessed the entire thing, and somehow reached Billing, which was breathtaking. The snow-capped mountains were just a stone’s throw away, and while I was busy clicking pictures, my friend was losing her shit.
She didn’t want to do it, she didn’t want to die, and she was shaking a little bit. I was surprisingly game for the whole thing, or maybe I wasn’t trying to freak her out more. I’m not sure, because before I knew it, she had run off a cliff and was in the air. Within two minutes, a big backpack was being strapped on to me and I was also being told to run off a cliff with my pilot. Um, no freaking way, I thought, as I ran. The next thing I know, I’m flying. I’m in the air, in the sky, and everything is tiny as fuck.
It was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life, and almost indescribable. My mind went blank and I was just happy. You can see it in my dorky photos and video. When I finally landed, and hurt my ankles, I ran to my still shaken-up friend, who definitely didn’t enjoy it as much as I did. We had some incredible nimbu-paani with trembling hands in the middle of that field, and went back to our resort for a nap.
We woke up four hours later, finally rested and very hungry. We asked for some momos and wai-wai, which were turning out to be our best options for food in the trip. My friend rolled joints, taught me how to, and opened a bottle of wine. Over lots of emotional songs and unnecessary cigarettes, we talked endlessly until the resort dudes brought us dinner. We went to bed with headaches. I woke up in the middle of the night to call my best friend back home, and ask her if I should call my ex (ex? I don’t know what to call him), and ask him if the rumours were true and he was getting married. I don’t remember how she talked me out of it.
For the next couple of days, we literally left that resort only to go to the ATM and a monastery. We stayed in our little cottage, stoned and full of stories, happy, hungry and restless about what we were doing with our lives. When we came back to Delhi, we’d checked off some things off our bucket list, and tried to pretend like that was enough.
***
Two years ago in April, I was asking my boss to be transferred to Jaipur in my old job, and acting like my life was getting over. In my defense, it really did feel that way. Two years later, it’s a different job, but it’s the same city, and when you live in the same city as your past, you sometimes run into it.
I don’t want to write about what happened on Thursday in detail here, because it was equal parts awkward and heart-breaking. For almost 10 minutes, I was pretty certain I was going to start howling in public. I didn’t. The feeling passed, I survived, and I was unexpectedly okay the next morning. What I didn’t know was that I were to have some kind of a blast from the past weekend.
The boy, my ex, whatever, I don’t even know what to call him, he got back in touch, and we seem to be falling back into our exhausting routine while avoiding the question of what the fuck we're really doing.
I don’t know man. I don’t have time for this right now. If everything goes according to plan, my work is about to be tripled in office, and it’s so hot my brain refuses to work half the time.
But hey, at least now I know how to fly.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
I spent the last one hour reading March posts from the last eight years. In 2008, for instance, I was talking about exams. In 2009, I was talking about my then-boyfriend. In 2010, I was talking about being dumped by him. In 2011, I was talking about another boy. In the subsequent years, I was talking about work and being unable to manage my life with it.
In 2016, I can only seem to talk about weddings. It’s fashionable to talk about adulting and failing at it, but who’s actually winning at it? I don’t know anyone who keeps it together all the time. How are we, then, supposed to make this monumental decision of choosing someone to spend all our life with at this time? I’m not saying this can’t be done, because I know many happily married couples. But perhaps that is because they weren’t pressured into it? No one was telling them they’d have a heart attack if they didn’t choose someone to marry in the next few months.
I was home 10 days ago to attend a friend’s wedding. On the day of her pheras, just as I was leaving for the venue, another childhood friend came over to tell me he’s getting married. Arranged, whatever, that doesn’t even matter anymore. I was stunned into silence. Maybe it’s time I stop getting so shocked every time someone announces their wedding. I was very emotional that day, all these people I grew up with making such grown-up decisions and getting on with their lives. I am supposed to go back to Jaipur next month for a wedding, then again in May for another. I might skip one of them.
I could have gone home again this week for Holi, but because I was getting a four-day weekend off for the first (and probably the last) time in my life, I decided to take a trip to the hills with a friend. Someone asked me the other day, “what’s the plan?” For life, I asked. I don’t know. How do you answer such a question? My friends and exes are getting married all around me, while I am trying to avoid crises at work every week and ordering as many fruits as I can from Big Basket. That’s it. That’s my life.
In 2016, I can only seem to talk about weddings. It’s fashionable to talk about adulting and failing at it, but who’s actually winning at it? I don’t know anyone who keeps it together all the time. How are we, then, supposed to make this monumental decision of choosing someone to spend all our life with at this time? I’m not saying this can’t be done, because I know many happily married couples. But perhaps that is because they weren’t pressured into it? No one was telling them they’d have a heart attack if they didn’t choose someone to marry in the next few months.
I was home 10 days ago to attend a friend’s wedding. On the day of her pheras, just as I was leaving for the venue, another childhood friend came over to tell me he’s getting married. Arranged, whatever, that doesn’t even matter anymore. I was stunned into silence. Maybe it’s time I stop getting so shocked every time someone announces their wedding. I was very emotional that day, all these people I grew up with making such grown-up decisions and getting on with their lives. I am supposed to go back to Jaipur next month for a wedding, then again in May for another. I might skip one of them.
I could have gone home again this week for Holi, but because I was getting a four-day weekend off for the first (and probably the last) time in my life, I decided to take a trip to the hills with a friend. Someone asked me the other day, “what’s the plan?” For life, I asked. I don’t know. How do you answer such a question? My friends and exes are getting married all around me, while I am trying to avoid crises at work every week and ordering as many fruits as I can from Big Basket. That’s it. That’s my life.
Thursday, March 10, 2016
Today, while watching my oldest friend, my first best friend, dance with her fiancé on her sangeet, I started crying. All those times when we sat in TC, drinking cosmopolitans and chocolate floats, wondering if she will ever get married to this boy, flashed before my eyes. I thought of all the times I hadn’t called her back, or texted her first, or been there because I was too busy or too distracted, and I worried about what will happen to our friendship now that we’re going to be living in different countries. I wondered if I will get a chance to say bye to her after her pheras tomorrow, because while she’ll stay here for a couple of weeks, as always, I’ll be gone. We met when we were 12, and now we’re 26. Fourteen years is an insanely long time to know someone, so I think we’ll be fine.
On my way back from the sangeet, I let another friend I was seeing after years scroll through her ex's Facebook profile on my phone. She's married, she has a baby, so she was just looking for gossip.
***
I just spoke to someone who would have been my ideal husband. If only we’d looked beyond our unlikely friendship, if only our families weren’t so complicatedly connected, if only we’d been in the same city, if only we’d given this some serious thought, if only I wasn’t such a chicken, he wouldn’t be married to someone else today and I wouldn’t be rejecting prospective husbands based on ridiculous random attributes.
Maybe the internet isn’t doing us a favour by keeping us connected to everyone we knew.
***
I just spoke to someone who would have been my ideal husband. If only we’d looked beyond our unlikely friendship, if only our families weren’t so complicatedly connected, if only we’d been in the same city, if only we’d given this some serious thought, if only I wasn’t such a chicken, he wouldn’t be married to someone else today and I wouldn’t be rejecting prospective husbands based on ridiculous random attributes.
Maybe the internet isn’t doing us a favour by keeping us connected to everyone we knew.
Sunday, March 6, 2016
February updates
I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without blogging since I started nine years ago. But I guess a new job will do that to you. My responsibilities are increasing, and yesterday I felt like I was in an episode of Suits, because I didn’t expect this workplace to be so cut-throat or stressful. Turns out, every single workplace is stressful, so we’re all doomed. I have to do something before the 15th, failing which, I’m in deep shit at work. But let’s not think about that right now.
The reason I could find the time, and inclination, to blog today is because I came home this morning. This is the first time I’ve come back to Jaipur after moving out again, and I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t hit by any overwhelming emotions while coming home from the airport. Sitting at this desk, where I spent almost all my time on this laptop planning my escape, I only feel a dull sense of something, not loss exactly, but that could be because I haven’t slept well all week. After I reached home, I was in bed and out for four hours. I guess that says something about home, even if I try to dismiss that concept these days.
The updates are far too many, so subheads it shall be.
Work
Is fine. Like I said, I don’t know why I expected it to be easier this time around. It’s definitely easier than my previous job in some ways, but it still drains me. And this deadline till the 15th is pissing me off, more than anything else, because it’s not very fair. Other than that, I think I’m doing okay, the people are nice, the place is nice, but it’s still work, and I’ve come to understand that it’s very rarely fulfilling. Some friends tell me it’s a dream job when I write on something particular, but I think I’ve established that that term is an illusion.
House
Continues to challenge me. I’d be going around thinking everything is fine and then suddenly something will stop working. Living alone is great, but sometimes I really want a flatmate around just to get shit fixed. I bought a few things for the house, hung up some fairy lights and made a Tumblr collage on a wall to make it feel like home. It does, on some days. But on some days, it’s still just a house.
Friends
Are assholes. I’m not even kidding. I guess this is payback for being a horrible friend during my last couple of years in my previous job, but my friends have disappointed me so much in the last few weeks. That makes it sound like I need to get off my high horse, and maybe I do, but I swear I’m not overreacting. I know everybody has problems, I know you can’t always talk about them even with your closest friends, but please be an adult and BE THERE. You’re not the only one who’s feeling lost. A friend told me the other day that I need to give up on such friends, understand that someone might be my oldest friend and still ditch me. That made me so sad. Adult friendship is a bitch.
Social life
Is thriving. I’ve taken my oath to not let this job take over my social life very seriously, which might explain why I go out so much and spend an insane amount of money on cabs and extra-sweet mocktails. But at least friends have fewer complaints that way and I am not completely cut off from everyone, just going to work and coming back the next day. But I need to go to more events, like festivals and stuff. I feel like I need to somehow see more of Delhi.
Parents
Are aggressively looking for a groom for me. I don’t even know how to explain this. I’ve had so many conversations with so many people about why and how I am okay with arranged marriage. I am not, but I don’t hate the idea either. Or so I thought. Plus I needed them to stop worrying, so I said 'fine, start looking'. I don’t think I’ve been part of a more dehumanizing process before. It’s a market, and you really, truly understand it when it starts happening to you. An older cousin, who’s been going through the same thing for years, has been telling me to not react to everything, to pick my battles. But it’s so difficult to do that when all I want to do is scream every time my father calls.
I didn’t even want to come home today, because I was worried shaadi is all we would talk about. My mother mentioned a rishta within 30 minutes of me walking into the house. I think my face stopped her from mentioning more. But I was so homesick in Delhi, and it’s one of my best friends’ wedding, so I couldn’t not come to Jaipur.
That’s the other thing. I know everyone thinks that all of their friends are getting married right now, but mine literally are. I’ve attended two weddings in the last three months, I’m here for this one, and then I’m invited to two more in the next two months. And these are all close friends. So perhaps that freaks out my parents even more? Twenty-six is not the end. Fifty-six is not the end either. I know we keep talking about how to teach our children about feminism, but sometimes I feel like we need to give a few lessons to our parents as well.
Adulting
Is a myth. Or is it? I wouldn't know because I have been failing at it for almost a month now. The first couple of months were okay, but in February, I really let myself go. I stopped cooking, I started eating out a lot, which then affected my weight and skin and everything I had worked very hard for during my sabbatical. I haven’t slept for more than four hours every night in two weeks, and that’s because I can’t seem to go to sleep before 3 or 4, and then I’m running late in the morning and I can’t concentrate at work and it’s all just downhill from there. The other day I had to get a massage for two thousand bucks because my body was killing me. I really, really need to step it up. I just don’t know how.
TV
Keeps me sane. The discovery of the year so far has been Veep. Julia Louis-Dreyfus’ face after every disaster in Veep gives me life. Now I kinda understand why she kept beating Amy Poehler at the Emmy awards every year, but I still wanted Leslie Knope to win at least once. Also, I’ve come to understand that I love shows where people screw up repeatedly at work, or even in general. It gives me hope about my life.
Another revelation was Friday Night Lights. I think I watched four seasons in a week (which accounts for why I stayed up till 4am on some days), and there are just so many emotions in that show. If you like soapy shows, like Parenthood or Grey’s, you should watch it.
I’ve also started watching Crazy Ex-Girlfriend on TV. I think I’m in love with Rachel Bloom.
Books
Are the major reason I can live alone and be okay with it. But – and I feel like I’ve been saying this a lot – I NEED a book that will change my life. Like One Day did, or The Sky is Everywhere, or We Need to Talk About Kevin. You by Caroline Kepnes did that for a while last month (you should read it and get freaked out, too), and I was haunted by it for weeks afterwards. Its sequel is out so that should carry me through this month. But I still need more. I’m reading The Palace of Illusions right now, and it’s not as engaging as everyone told me it would be.
Life
Is okay. It could have been much worse, and I’m definitely not depressed like I was towards the end of my previous job. But sometimes I really regret taking up this job so soon. I think my sabbatical ended too quickly and I could have still been chilling at home. Or maybe that’s just my laziness talking? Because if I were still at home, this shaadi stuff would have been that much more irritating. So, I guess it all worked out?
The reason I could find the time, and inclination, to blog today is because I came home this morning. This is the first time I’ve come back to Jaipur after moving out again, and I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t hit by any overwhelming emotions while coming home from the airport. Sitting at this desk, where I spent almost all my time on this laptop planning my escape, I only feel a dull sense of something, not loss exactly, but that could be because I haven’t slept well all week. After I reached home, I was in bed and out for four hours. I guess that says something about home, even if I try to dismiss that concept these days.
The updates are far too many, so subheads it shall be.
Work
Is fine. Like I said, I don’t know why I expected it to be easier this time around. It’s definitely easier than my previous job in some ways, but it still drains me. And this deadline till the 15th is pissing me off, more than anything else, because it’s not very fair. Other than that, I think I’m doing okay, the people are nice, the place is nice, but it’s still work, and I’ve come to understand that it’s very rarely fulfilling. Some friends tell me it’s a dream job when I write on something particular, but I think I’ve established that that term is an illusion.
House
Continues to challenge me. I’d be going around thinking everything is fine and then suddenly something will stop working. Living alone is great, but sometimes I really want a flatmate around just to get shit fixed. I bought a few things for the house, hung up some fairy lights and made a Tumblr collage on a wall to make it feel like home. It does, on some days. But on some days, it’s still just a house.
Friends
Are assholes. I’m not even kidding. I guess this is payback for being a horrible friend during my last couple of years in my previous job, but my friends have disappointed me so much in the last few weeks. That makes it sound like I need to get off my high horse, and maybe I do, but I swear I’m not overreacting. I know everybody has problems, I know you can’t always talk about them even with your closest friends, but please be an adult and BE THERE. You’re not the only one who’s feeling lost. A friend told me the other day that I need to give up on such friends, understand that someone might be my oldest friend and still ditch me. That made me so sad. Adult friendship is a bitch.
Social life
Is thriving. I’ve taken my oath to not let this job take over my social life very seriously, which might explain why I go out so much and spend an insane amount of money on cabs and extra-sweet mocktails. But at least friends have fewer complaints that way and I am not completely cut off from everyone, just going to work and coming back the next day. But I need to go to more events, like festivals and stuff. I feel like I need to somehow see more of Delhi.
Parents
Are aggressively looking for a groom for me. I don’t even know how to explain this. I’ve had so many conversations with so many people about why and how I am okay with arranged marriage. I am not, but I don’t hate the idea either. Or so I thought. Plus I needed them to stop worrying, so I said 'fine, start looking'. I don’t think I’ve been part of a more dehumanizing process before. It’s a market, and you really, truly understand it when it starts happening to you. An older cousin, who’s been going through the same thing for years, has been telling me to not react to everything, to pick my battles. But it’s so difficult to do that when all I want to do is scream every time my father calls.
I didn’t even want to come home today, because I was worried shaadi is all we would talk about. My mother mentioned a rishta within 30 minutes of me walking into the house. I think my face stopped her from mentioning more. But I was so homesick in Delhi, and it’s one of my best friends’ wedding, so I couldn’t not come to Jaipur.
That’s the other thing. I know everyone thinks that all of their friends are getting married right now, but mine literally are. I’ve attended two weddings in the last three months, I’m here for this one, and then I’m invited to two more in the next two months. And these are all close friends. So perhaps that freaks out my parents even more? Twenty-six is not the end. Fifty-six is not the end either. I know we keep talking about how to teach our children about feminism, but sometimes I feel like we need to give a few lessons to our parents as well.
Adulting
Is a myth. Or is it? I wouldn't know because I have been failing at it for almost a month now. The first couple of months were okay, but in February, I really let myself go. I stopped cooking, I started eating out a lot, which then affected my weight and skin and everything I had worked very hard for during my sabbatical. I haven’t slept for more than four hours every night in two weeks, and that’s because I can’t seem to go to sleep before 3 or 4, and then I’m running late in the morning and I can’t concentrate at work and it’s all just downhill from there. The other day I had to get a massage for two thousand bucks because my body was killing me. I really, really need to step it up. I just don’t know how.
TV
Keeps me sane. The discovery of the year so far has been Veep. Julia Louis-Dreyfus’ face after every disaster in Veep gives me life. Now I kinda understand why she kept beating Amy Poehler at the Emmy awards every year, but I still wanted Leslie Knope to win at least once. Also, I’ve come to understand that I love shows where people screw up repeatedly at work, or even in general. It gives me hope about my life.
Another revelation was Friday Night Lights. I think I watched four seasons in a week (which accounts for why I stayed up till 4am on some days), and there are just so many emotions in that show. If you like soapy shows, like Parenthood or Grey’s, you should watch it.
I’ve also started watching Crazy Ex-Girlfriend on TV. I think I’m in love with Rachel Bloom.
Books
Are the major reason I can live alone and be okay with it. But – and I feel like I’ve been saying this a lot – I NEED a book that will change my life. Like One Day did, or The Sky is Everywhere, or We Need to Talk About Kevin. You by Caroline Kepnes did that for a while last month (you should read it and get freaked out, too), and I was haunted by it for weeks afterwards. Its sequel is out so that should carry me through this month. But I still need more. I’m reading The Palace of Illusions right now, and it’s not as engaging as everyone told me it would be.
Life
Is okay. It could have been much worse, and I’m definitely not depressed like I was towards the end of my previous job. But sometimes I really regret taking up this job so soon. I think my sabbatical ended too quickly and I could have still been chilling at home. Or maybe that’s just my laziness talking? Because if I were still at home, this shaadi stuff would have been that much more irritating. So, I guess it all worked out?
But I really feel like I need to do something crazy. Not hooking up with the wrong person crazy or yelling at the boss crazy. Something that gives me a rush. Like bungee jumping. Um, I don't know where that came from.
I don’t want to stop blogging, because the other day I read a year’s worth of my old posts at 2am and then messaged some questionable things to someone. You need that kind of wake-up call sometimes. You need to see how far you’ve come, and how far you still have to go.
I don’t want to stop blogging, because the other day I read a year’s worth of my old posts at 2am and then messaged some questionable things to someone. You need that kind of wake-up call sometimes. You need to see how far you’ve come, and how far you still have to go.
Sunday, January 31, 2016
26
I'm turning 26 in 30 minutes. So perhaps it's time to stop expecting the worst? Except that I can't. A few days ago, I planned to have lunch with all my girlfriends in Delhi on this day for my birthday. I kept telling everyone I know it'll be very difficult to get everyone together – someone has a job, someone has a baby, someone has a thing – they're all busy in their lives. My friends told me that, of course, they will be there. But I kept saying to myself that it won't happen.
So, this morning, I woke up to multiple disasters. There was no water in the house, which always sends me into a tizzy because of the Lajpat Nagar debacle, I had to shower with really cold water and was nursing a headache, and my friends kept cancelling one after another. In between calling the plumber many times, trying to book a cab when none was available and panicking in defunct ATMs, I thought I'd start crying. And that right there was my pre-birthday meltdown.
But in the end, of course, this lunch was probably my best birthday in years, and my birthday hasn't even really begun! My boss was being (suspiciously) extra nice to me and insisted I take Saturday off, so yesterday I went shopping with a friend, and spent even more money in the name of birthday shopping. And today was a lot of fun. Some of these girls I was spending my birthday with after many years, and just the image of them standing around me singing happy birthday is making me happy right now. They were all friends from different times of my life – school, my blog, journalism school – but of course everyone got along just fine, because my friends are the best. The school friend came back home with me for a bit, and now I'm alone, marathoning The Vampire Diaries and eating leftover blueberry cheesecake (shout out to Sakshi!).
Of course, a few hours ago I wanted to cry again because my parents are making me send my biodata and photos to at least four families on every holiday. Just writing that email makes me want to throw up. I really wish my father hadn't asked me to do it today, of all days, but I'm trying not to dwell on that. I feel like this birthday is a source of immense panic for them, because I'm 26, which is, well, older if not old, and, according to them, well past the age of getting engaged.
Birthdays after 20 are rarely fun and almost never meet anyone's expectations, but even though I have nothing planned for tomorrow, I think I feel okay. I have a tattoo now, after all.
Twenty-six. Shit.
So, this morning, I woke up to multiple disasters. There was no water in the house, which always sends me into a tizzy because of the Lajpat Nagar debacle, I had to shower with really cold water and was nursing a headache, and my friends kept cancelling one after another. In between calling the plumber many times, trying to book a cab when none was available and panicking in defunct ATMs, I thought I'd start crying. And that right there was my pre-birthday meltdown.
But in the end, of course, this lunch was probably my best birthday in years, and my birthday hasn't even really begun! My boss was being (suspiciously) extra nice to me and insisted I take Saturday off, so yesterday I went shopping with a friend, and spent even more money in the name of birthday shopping. And today was a lot of fun. Some of these girls I was spending my birthday with after many years, and just the image of them standing around me singing happy birthday is making me happy right now. They were all friends from different times of my life – school, my blog, journalism school – but of course everyone got along just fine, because my friends are the best. The school friend came back home with me for a bit, and now I'm alone, marathoning The Vampire Diaries and eating leftover blueberry cheesecake (shout out to Sakshi!).
Of course, a few hours ago I wanted to cry again because my parents are making me send my biodata and photos to at least four families on every holiday. Just writing that email makes me want to throw up. I really wish my father hadn't asked me to do it today, of all days, but I'm trying not to dwell on that. I feel like this birthday is a source of immense panic for them, because I'm 26, which is, well, older if not old, and, according to them, well past the age of getting engaged.
Birthdays after 20 are rarely fun and almost never meet anyone's expectations, but even though I have nothing planned for tomorrow, I think I feel okay. I have a tattoo now, after all.
Twenty-six. Shit.
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