Pursuit of a Reminder

I want to record every moment in my day, in my life. I want to make a note of it so I remember what it was before it isn’t anymore. It isn’t a new habit, it is one forged after years and years of repetition.

But you don’t expect to lose it. You don’t expect a wave to wash through your home and erase all the reminders you saved. I am slowly forgetting what I looked like as a kid, as struggle to remember my lost journals and photo albums destroyed by disasters of life. Wind, water and fire. Now when I write or draw on a piece of paper, I feel a faint sting. Why the effort when I might lose it tomorrow. Someone else would be raping my belongings, not knowing how much love went into collecting those pieces of me.

So whatever I do now, I take a picture from my phone and lock it in the clouds. I go to the library and give them back the books I borrow, no longer wanting to buy, own and keep.

It is a beautiful, bittersweet feeling of disconnect.

Photo by Izzy Gerosa on Unsplash

750 characters


I woke up around 4:30 in the morning because I accidentally heard my friend’s message while in the bathroom and had to respond. The response took some thinking, and my brain woke up. As I was recording a message to her, my husband woke up as well. He always smiles when he looks at me. Even if he’s half asleep, dead tired after a long day. And it always makes my heart flutter. So we spent the morning talking and joking about the funniest, sweetest things until it got late and he had to go to work. I dozed off a little as he tip-toed around the room in dim light, getting ready and trying not to make any noise.

Today I am off from everywhere. I spent most of my week running around the city and needed a day desperately to myself, so I could get my house in order and work on some important projects. I took a multivitamin, made myself some breakfast, and was about to make a list of things I needed to do when I thought of visiting my blog again. I need to practice my writing as this current project requires some creativity. I can always start a new blog, work on my Medium page or use one of the hundred thousand platforms available for writing and journaling…but WordPress..will always remain special. And it will always call me back. Stats don’t matter now, if they ever did. 

I am going to start with making the bed, then doing the dishes, cleaning the kitchen. Then imma dust around, mop the floors, and fold some laundry. I will then water my beautiful plants and arrange them properly for the sun. When this is over, I will plop myself on the sofa and work on my projects- one being my application due tomorrow. 

The portion I am stuck at is ‘What past experiences impacted your journey leading to your medical career’. The answer needs to be in 750 characters. What to say and what to leave out? What constitutes an impaction? Who will I be blaming in these 750 characters? How much of it will I be shouldering, and how much will be plain finger-pointing? Maybe I am thinking too much into it. Maybe, I will be done in less than 750 characters if I say:

I did things that weren’t expected of me. I was supposed to obey, prostrate and sell my soul to a world of men run by women. My career was supposed to be a commodity meant to get the highest bidder. Instead, I chose to live my own life as I saw fit and cut cords with everyone who was fashioning a noose with the bonds I had with them. And I found happiness, love, and respect from the most unexpected of places. It was all my choice and I am proud of myself.

So…suck…on…that

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The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy has always been a rescue for me whenever I have been sad, lonely and whenever I didn’t feel like dealing with the world. Reading it has always been like sitting next to a totally bizarre person in an airport waiting area, a person you encounter every time you travel through this particular airline. You’ve seen this particular man so many times and are so looking forward to running into him with his over-sized bag and his red pullover that the one time last October he wasn’t there; you stood in the boarding line crestfallen and strangely disappointed. And life felt a little off. It is the familiar insanity that keeps me safe from a little unknown craziness from my own.

This is what this book means to me. That strange man in a red pullover.

I read it when I need to phase out and music just won’t do. Drugs and Alcohol aren’t my thing. I love my life too much to cut myself or try attempting suicide. These things don’t interest me. But whenever limbo tightens it’s hands around my neck and it just ain’t fun anymore… this is the book I gotta read. It sometimes gets to a point where I stop and start to identify with Marvin, the depressed robot.
You know what else I do when I am sad, lonely and feeling absolutely pathetic?
I write on the walls of a ghost town.
My house is the purple one in the street of yellow.

 

 

Don’t Panic.

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

I Understand Now What My Mom Meant by ‘Books will ruin your brain’

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Sometimes I start talking and stop because a voice inside begs me to (not a ‘voice’, voice). I see the look at the other person(s) face and my tongue slips a little. That is my cue to stop talking. And then suddenly I am tired. Then I just feel like being quiet for the rest of the day.

Sometimes I hear something so absolutely ignorant and so fundamentally abhorrent that I have to speak up. And I talk until I bring the other person down and defeat them in every aspect of that horrible utterance. And then one of the following happens:

-They accept that their premise was wrong. (either truly, or just to shut me up and still save face, what is with people and saving face? If you are wrong and have been proven wrong..fess up and learn something instead of strutting around like a plucked peacock, jeez)

-They give me a ‘agree to disagree’. (the root of all my hatred)

-They successfully bring up some points that force me to reconsider. (respect)

-They give me a vague stupid twisted line which involves words like ‘Belief’ and ‘Everyone is like that’ or “This is what Life is” as if it is supposed to answer everything. Or sigh and look into the distance in a way that is supposed to be mysterious and deep as if they hold the secret of the Universe and it must not be uttered. (the Kantian spiritual mystics that will be mentioned by name in my suicide note)

-Or they attack me.

….not the topic, not the discussion, not the points…me. Instead of defending their baseless doctrine….They attack me.. pouncing at everything they can grab at. This part has always amazed me and is the most commonly observed scenario in my experience. The shouting, the frothing at the mouth, the personal remarks, the offenses taken…my God. What a spectacle. My mom does that too, although her counter arguments are ‘Because it is said so’ or ‘You are not old enough’ or ‘I am your Mother’. And then when I know that the argument is useless and stop talking….I get a whole lecture on morality and values. And the lips move and all I see is air coming out that means nothing. I can reduce it to ashes with one question but by that time..my head already feels sore and I am already bored.

Last night I was in my bed, cold and shivering, reading Rand…. I put the book down, closed my eyes and apologized to myself. I apologized for living in a delusional bubble all these years. For writing crap and believing in crap. I was sorry that I had wasted so much of my life believing the wrong things and pursuing the wrong purpose. I now have many of the answers to the questions that confused and wrecked me my entire adolescence. I am not saying they have made me ‘happier’ but they have saved me from the unnecessary torture that I wrongly..or maybe so rightly..termed ‘Sacrifice’. And to think I took pride in it. I do not blame my mother anymore, I do not have an inkling of resentment towards her or anyone else who influenced me as I was growing up. My choices. My mistakes. My faults.

But sometimes.. I want to stop them and ask…do you understand the full meaning of what you are saying? Why are you saying it if you do not understand it, if you cannot defend it the slightest? Do you understand what you are doing? Do you actually get it? Or are you copying someone who did it before you? Tell me why are you doing it? What do you want from it? What is the purpose of your existence? Do you know who you are? Did you try finding it? When? How?

…………………………………………..

 

When I was young and dumb..which was last Tuesday, I think =P I used to say that I was too ‘dead’ to love someone or be in love. And I named my lack of attraction a scar someone unnamed and unessential left me with. But I was wrong. Love is the epitome of personal values. And the reason I did not fall in love with you, you and you was not because I was frigid to your charm…it was because I was frigid to your values, your ideals and above all..your mind.

I am sorry. I should’ve known better.

emotional-intelligence

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.

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Twenty Sixteen

Enough

The reason I put ‘2016’ as the title is because I couldn’t think of any. I haven’t written anything in a long long time and that isn’t just one of those ‘falling out of blogging’ things. I couldn’t write anymore. And now, as my hands fly over the rusty keys of my trusted computer…I don’t know why I am doing this. Each and every one of my friends, the ones who used to blog and write have flown far away. It feels old and distant. I feel old myself. The only though that compelled me again as I sit in a cold corner, tired after packing for my final year in medicine..is..that it is an another year. A whole new chance to start over and face a whole new set of experiences waiting for me. I am tired of the same old ways the world runs around me.

Enough is Enough.

I am not allowed to be afraid.

Crossroads

I have written about my heart being heavy, I have written about it being broken. I have written about being happy, I have written about being content. For anyone who ever cared and to whomsoever it ever concerened…I have written it all.

And then I stopped, for I had no new feelings to talk about, no ecstatic incidents to share. Everything was a copy of everything that had happened before and everything I saw was something I had seen before, every thought, every word and every moment. Happy sad happy sad, happy happy, elated, sad, sad, confused, confident, happy happy happy..

And there I was, once again..with that new feeling hitting my face. Again..after years. I had forgotten what it felt like to be floating in the air like a dying leaf,unknown, unanchored, weary and afraid of what would come next. Till now I was happy, adjusted. I could fight every obstacle that came my way, cut down every thorn that threatened to bruise me again. And then sleep with a deep feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction.

But I couldn’t sleep tonight. My mind was plagued with all kinds of thoughts, poisoning my existence with all kinds of doubt and apprehension.
My life is gonna change again.

Just when I had started to love it.

Unconditionally.

To Whom It May Concern

(Android Post)

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I do miss it, sometimes. Blogging, writing, old friends etc. But I am not as sad about it as I should be. I am not that broken anymore, nor do I need to vent so much because I don’t let things pile anymore. Being a more stable person, has somehow made me a bad writer. Having more confidence has somehow made me less impulsive. I don’t feel like doing things I would’ve done earlier, just to validate myself. And a genuine lack of interest in social media is partly there because, I just don’t care anymore of what’s out there. I know my priorities, after being mistaken about them for so long. Have you woken up, one day, while reading a book, watching a movie..and know that you know far better than you ever did. That you are up now, and you see better. I am glad those phases before are over and life is, chaotic in it’s own way with much less drama and hurt.

Winters are coming, the season I love. For once I’ll welcome the sun and the warmth from my window, rather than hating the scorched desert it makes my room in summers. I’ll love the Sun like I love rain and clouds. As for Wind.

She always knows where to find me.