Just a shout out

Here’s a lame post to tell all those assholes out there who spent a lifetime bringing me down…

Suck it, you sorry bunch of pathetic losers.

I am imagining myself flying towards my fortress in the sky, soaring up..light and un-tethered. I see myself reach there, folding my wings back, looking down upon the world dotted beneath.  This is a profound feeling that needs to be expressed, inked and tattooed.

I have spent..a lifetime trying to fit in places, with all sorts of people. I have given up countless times. Tried to tell myself that maybe I wasn’t meant to have people. High school, college, med school..it felt like the same story repeating itself. All cliche, yada yada yada. But look, all those things I wanted all my life..got handed to me in 3-6 months. I found my niche. I found my friends. I found love. I found everything I had been yearning till now. The other day I saw my old friends from med school and I wished I could stop them and tell them that no matter how long I would’ve tried, they would’ve never accepted me as their own. They tried too. I know. They tried to include me, they tried to give a damn..but our frequencies never truly matched. You can’t force someone to love you, to care for you. And I thought I’d never find it. Acceptance and love.

And I did. I am happy. I conquered my demons. And while life continues to throw fresh hell my way every other hour..I know I am complete in myself to handle them. I will find a way.

Libby, Alyssa, Florence, Margo, Hector, William and James.

I wish I could make ya’ll know..how much your company meant/means to me.

And Libby.

My love.

You are the sweetest, most beautiful being on earth.

Get married already.

Despo.

:D

Ode to Idiots

This post is full of shameless self praise and big-headedness,with a score of judgement on every living soul I have met. Those who take offense easy,
You’ve been warned.

people people

I am creature of impulse, not of calculation. There was once a time I regretted it, but now I don’t. When I was very young I used to think everyone around me had a better understanding of life, that they knew things I would never understand; because they had wholesome families, they lived in big houses and they drove in cars while I came from a broken home and had to travel for hours in a smelly van to get to my school.That somehow their brains were sharper than mine and their thinking much clearer and open. And by this I placed some sort of an invisible responsibility on them. That they were ‘supposed’ to give a crap about my existence and they were ‘supposed’ to understand what I was going through. There in was the birth of my resentment and deep dissatisfaction.

And school went on, and college went on. I got into med school. Same problem. I would ‘expect’ them to understand. I would ‘expect’ them to care. I would resent them if they didn’t. And most often, they didn’t. (why would they? Duh). And I always thought that it was the same thing, that I just didn’t knew any better. I made mistakes because I was lacking the typical upbringing they had.

Boy, was I wrong.

Because, man, are people dumb, deaf and blind!

They walk around as if they are the only human beings on earth, I s them talking such bullcrap that it made my eyes water with anger. Oh, I had an anger phase too. But then, I started to really look at them, really see what their patterns were and that’s when I saw a whole new kind of…dumb.

I am not an advocate of selflessness and the delusion of altruism. I was, but I no longer am. I think thinking and caring about others is a wonderful deed. It brings me great happiness too. But the idea of sacrifice is way too distorted and overrated to be held that high. I would never want my pleasure to be the cause to someone else’s pain (Ayn Rand would put it differently), but I digress.

So, I saw the very friends of mine making the same mistakes over and over. I saw them running from confrontation, keeping things in their hearts, building resentments, taking the wrong way to deal with a situation that could be dealt with so straightforwardly, lying, hiding, hurting, hating, crying, fighting their many problems, some letting the grief bury them, some putting a brave face all the time, loving those who hurt them, hurting those who had been there for them for an eternity.

They all turned out to be..so normal.

There was nothing special or different about them. They knew nothing better. Their privileges had not given them an understanding of someone else’s lacking (?). They would give the same advice I read in a magazine or watched in a movie. Their problems weren’t that different. They said or did nothing that I hadn’t seen or done before. They were just people, lost in their own worlds, trying to make it out alive. People. Just People. Ordinary. Beautiful. Tragic…people…

They didn’t know any better then, they don’t know any better now. I lost all my resentment the day I understood that. Before, I tried to be good because that was what I was taught. Because that was what I was ‘supposed’ to do.

Now I do it because I know that I know better

Try me.

hands-with-plant save

The Dummy Song

songwriter_with_guitar.jpg

I am at the same point in my life when I know exactly what I wanna write about but am reluctant to do so because of the inappropriateness of the matter. That point when I know of the exact feelings and thoughts I want to let go of, but am unable to do so out of some deep seated courtesy or the sheer pettiness it would be mistaken as. I am wary to pen it down because it would be perceived as a weakness, lie or deceit. I am afraid that it would fall into some mapped pattern of my behavior and be dismissed off as a predictable tick, a pathetic cry.

I’ll take the legs from some old table
I’ll take the arms from some old chair
I’ll take the neck from some old bottle
And from a horse I’ll take the hair

I know what you’re waiting for. I know what you long to see, what you crave to hear. I know just what to say that would satisfy that itch that you would deny exists. You wanna see me fail, you wanna see me broken, you wanna see me crawl with helplessness and despair. You want misery to penetrate every aspect of my presence visible to you. Or else, you just want me to disappear. You want no trace of me connecting back to you, to remind your conscious and subconscious of the terrible mistakes you made. I remind you of the failure you are. Or the possibility of such a thing to exist. And it’s not easy to confront such a revelation. Unthinkable, even.

I’ll take the hands and face from some old clock
And baby, when I’m through
I’ll get more loving from the dum, dum, dummy
Than I ever got from you

I know it. I know every single one of you to the extent that it would shock you still. You’re so naked in front of me. Bare to the bone. Yet, I loved every single one of you with all your bends and creases. I cherished every dent in your personality, every flaw in your existence. It were those imperfections that made you so human. So beautiful, so real. Each one of you was different, had a separate unshakable place in my heart and in my life. I never put you all on the same level, but gave you all the consideration and love that had no other match. Considered you unique. One of an amazing kind.

I get more loving
From that dum, dum, dummy
Than I’ve ever gotten from you
Yeah, mama, get more loving
From a dummy than I get from you

Well. What a stinking waste of time.

 

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(Title: The Dummy Song by Louis Armstrong)

“It was not so much that he was shut out, but that she was trapped inside”

phone in bus

SO my friend sends me sends me an audio message this morning about how de-sensitized he thinks he has become for a period of time, how disconnected from everything and distant from everyone. I listen to the message, my upper lip curls and look around for a while.

I don’t remember the last time I felt connected to anyone, by anyone I mean ANYone. Now that I think about it, the last person I felt really in tune with was my sister and it has been a long while since she has gone. I don’t remember sharing a really worthwhile conversation for a long time, I don’t remember being absolutely happy or being utterly sad. A few weeks earlier my cousin said I really was dead inside. I haven’t found a book to die for in months. Haven’t had the stomach to watch an entire movie in one setting for over a year. The really, really weird psychologist I worked with for my internship tried shooting all kinds of darts in my direction, calling me an introvert, saying I never shared anything personal with the group the entire time blah blah blah and right now as the only friends I have in my college leave me to go out, I so wish I at least felt bad at not being included, or that the way I and Bubbly have drifted apart would affect me a little, or that sometimes it would give me a sting thinking how absolutely shrunken has my world become and that maybe I would breakdown thinking my mom would die any day now… but no. I feel nothing.
So what do I tell him?

It’s just the strangest thing, I’ve seen your face somewhere…

poker face

I am tired to my bones running into the same kind of people every day and every night. Wherever I turn, I see the same faces, same pointless drivel flowing from their lips and it makes my stomach turn. I see them reading the same worthless books, quoting the same quotes, wearing the same expressions and saying the same things. And this afternoon I wanted to jump from the bus

Lord I don’t know where to turn to. I am going to be buried in work soon and the very idea of the workload is getting me into fits of panic..but I’ll get through it, like I always have. Whether this is the actual issue or whether something else is going on inside me.. I do not know. But the very idea of the plain brain washed puppets I live amongst.. it just makes me angry. I always have believed everyone is different, unique, that they all have their own wars to fight, own battles to win and plenty of fears to conquer..but give me something now. I have never called people around me any names. Never judged them, never expected anything, never really saw them. But when I try.. I don’t like what I see..

It has become so repetitive that it enrages the hell out of me. Same deceits, same devotion. same ideals, same rationalizations. This city that city. All the shows saying marriage stinks and divorce is inevitable, all the books saying religion is a false cover for horrors we bind ourselves in, parents demanding respect, teachers claiming it as their right, patients cursing doctors, doctors cursing patients, same menu in the hostel mess for four years, riding the same bus, looking at the same people..loving and cheating and hating and lying…

I’ve taken breaks. From God, from friends, from books, from tv, from internet..once, twice..so many times. They all return and they all make me toss my lunch. Give me something ! Give me something that’ll make me turn towards you and see your face and know that I haven’t seen you before, in all those crowds and in all those cities. Show me something I haven’t seen before, tell me something I haven’t heard yet. Amaze me. Make me fall in love. Make me coil in hatred.

Do something..

tired sticky note

 

(Title: ‘Do You Know Me by John Mayer)

I AM HAPPY AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO !!!

Oye

Oh boy am I a great person

oh hell I am great

You got that straight

Nobody gets so hurt all day and when the night comes and her best friend irons her hair and she irritates the hell out of her. You smile, I smile, we all laugh. What more is there to worry about?

You know what. That moment when you look back at yourself and see all you have been doing and you feel absolutely ridiculous, I wanna look back now. Not after ten twenty thirty years, being a shrivelled old lady and sighing as I lay somewhere on some hospital bed with tubes coming out of me and wires going in. Why do I have to be that person who is just so closed from all sides. I know it is not so much in my power, I cannot break my barriers even myself. I cannot even approach them. I can’t. It starts to feel..vulnerable.. naked even.

SO what happened. I was broken like fifty times today. It was a bad day. Everyone I met spit poison. SO I got all senti.. and I tried talking to someone I thought might help me out but.. well.. when one stops caring it all falls apart. Why talk when there are no words to use ey? My heart is as pure as it will be. I love once. I love forever. Or I leave

SO I will open up. I will be better. I will be a better person. I will cut all that tends to pollute my mind and muddle my heart. I will TALK about things I AM. With MY friends. And I WILL BE HAPPY WHILE I CAN

AYE

I live in a goofy corridor

And believe me when I say it

I do live in a really goofy and creepy corridor

a) There’s a vampire I do mean it. My corridor is usually occupied by senior students with creepy hairstyles. SO, one day I was on my way to wash my dishes when I by accident gazed into a room. The door was open and this girl was sitting on her bed. Her hair were pitch black and dishevelled and I always seen her use heavy eye make up. Now this time thick black liner was all around her sunken eyes and she was sitting in such a strange way with her friend. As I passed she looked at me and I was like RUN HAIBAR, for the sake of passing in the blood viva to the most daunting Professor, RUN.

I am exaggerating yes but she did give me the creeps. Hell every time now I watch her passing I look at her back and say in my head, aaj kitno ka kaam tamam kia he? (how many didja wipe off today?)

b)She’s in luurrvvv: Oh boy, people in love have really goofy smiles stuck to their faces. I see this girl always walking down our corridor smiling in such a GOOOOOFY manner that sometimes I resist the urge to just punch that show-piece of a teeth rack out of her. She’s ALWAYS talking on the phone. I mean..like.. ALWAYS.

Get a life..

c)Gold mines need be guarded: Some people have lots of expensive stuff in their room and that is reflected in the quality if the locks on the door or just the fact that this person really seals her door every time she even goes to the bathroom. I mean I see her carrying this huge bunch of keys every time I bump into her making noodles. What’s she.. an undercover medieval dungeon master…?

Moses smell the roses…

d)You raise me up: There’s this person, right infront of our room, who bangs the door with such a ferocity that it can raise the dead. I have woken up in the middle of the night due to Her Majesty with Ogre hands who hates her door and has an urge to slam doors just when my blasted eyes close..

For the love of Pete..

 

All for now..I do have packs of tales about my new hostel and people I live with, Ogres or Vampires or Dungeon Masters… I do love this Wonderland =)

Can’t wait for my friend Bubbly to be back from home.. Hate laughing without her =)