validation. hee

You know that feeling when you just don’t want to work? When you stare at the blank screen on your PC and the words running through your head are not the ones you should be typing. Those times when all you want to do is soak in the already fading winter and sit in the sun and peel oranges while your friends talk around you and you sit and you watch it all in sepia tinted slow motion.

I get that a lot these days. I’m missing something, I think. I just don’t know what.

My boss got me earrings from her trip to Bombay. I can now hereby swear that she is the coolest boss ever. Do any of you have a boss who fishes out a pair of girly, dangly earrings out of the front pocket of her dungarees? Or one who always makes it a point to tell you if she likes a story idea/story? or one who you would hug if only she weren't your boss? heh i don't think so.

my job so rocks!

My exams are finally over. Which means that even my 'part-time-student-days' have ended. I don't quite know how that makes me feel. Went out with university friends for dinner and drinks after the last exam. Which was fun, though Maddy took hideous pics of me. But ooh one pic, which is all shadowy and a little blurred is really nice. And I'm vain enough to be pleased with nice photographs of me. I know I'll look at it twenty years later and think that it was nice to be young and err... almost pretty. Which is such a nice feeling. Dontcha think?


Went back to work after a break of 19 days yesterday. And had no work so tagged along with Ducksie to a rock competition. And felt very old. And what is it with all the Calcutta rock bands. Where does all this bad attitude come from ?

And yes I'm capable of feeling young and almost pretty and old and dowdy in a span of twenty four hours. I amaze myself sometimes.

wanted: a really sharp elbow hacker.

So the next time I get poked by an elbow, whoever it be attached to, male or female, I will slice their bloody elbow clean. There will be nice Kill Bill-esque moment where Pointy Elbows will stare at all the blood spurting from his arm and bloodied piece of elbow bone, and i will walk away calmly. Oh and I'll whistle the really cool tune that plays in the movie.

and is there some kind of special school for this? where they teach you to ram that elbow straight into my chest and then disappear into crowds? Arrrrgh.

The really cool tune

ru -- [noun]: A person of questionable sanity who starts their own cult 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Eh ?

I’m bored of me. I’m bored of the same face that stares back at me from my bathroom mirror. I’m bored of my clothes, of the jewelry I wear. I want a make over. Where everything about me will be different

Different clothes. Thinner. No fab India. No silver earrings. No vodka n lime cordial. No cheap motorola cellphone. No buses. No metros. No same old curly hair that has looked the same since I was sixteen. No gurjari jhola. No chappals. no reporting stuff that I’m bad at. No wondering about why the bloody hell that guy didn’t call me. No keeping quiet when some one’s mean to me. No more sappy romance novels. No inarticulate speaking. No more whining. No more wallowing. No more of me.

I want to go out shopping for a brand new me.

I dont want to be brave. I'm not even trying to be. I'm not doing this for an extra byline. Or to get noticed. I want to get this over with and put it behind me.

And no i dont need to be asked if i'm ok. I might or might not be. But your asking me isnt helping matters.

If I were a beginning, I would be: the word
If I were a month, I would be: september
If I were a day of the week, I would be: sunday
If I were a time of day, I would be: dawn
If I were a planet, I would be: neptune
If I were a season, I would be: monsoon
If I were a sea animal, I would be: a dolphin
If I were a direction, I would be: south west?
If I were a piece of furniture, I would be: the arm chair
If I were a sin, I would be: sloth
If I were a liquid, I would be: a vodka martini
If I were a fraud/scare, I would be: me
If I were a gem, I would be: a ruby
If I were a tree, I would be: a pine tree
If I were a tool, I would be: a screwdriver
If I were a flower/plant, I would be: a very prickly rose
If I were a kind of weather, I would be: the rains in calcutta
If I were a musical instrument, I would be: a flute, or a saxophone
If I were an animal, I would be: a well fed fluffy cat
If I were an emotion, I would be: contentment (is that an emotion?)
If I were a vegetable, I would be: an onion
If I were a sound, I would be: silence
If I were an element, I would be: water
If I were a car, I would be: this is easy. A bright red lamborghini
If I were a song, I would be: “maybe tomorrow” by stereophonics
If I were a food, I would be: homey comfort food. like rajma chawal
If I were a place, I would be: home
If I were a material, I would be: khadi
If I were a taste, I would be: chocolate
If I were a scent, I would be: a freshly brewed pot of darjeeling tea
If I were a religion, I would be: no idea. Do agnostics have a religion?
If I were a sentence, I would be: this one
If I were a body part, I would be: eyes
If I were a facial expression, I would be: a lazy smile
If I were a subject in college, I would be: not mathematical economics
If I were a shape, I would be: round
If I were a quantity, I would be: a litre
If I were a colour, I would be: turquoise
If I were a thing, I would be: my first fountain pen
If I were a landmass, I would be: plateau of Tibet
If I were a book, I would be: the catcher in the rye
If I were a monument, I would be: the Spinx
If I were an artist, I would be: Van Gogh
If I were a collection of poems, I would be: readable
If I were a landscape, I would be: an oasis
If I were a watch, I would be: the fast track thing I wear
If I were God, I would be: really bad at my job
If I were a vowel, I would be: a
If I were a consonant, I would be: l
If I were a formula, I would be: a grandmothers secret recipe
If I were a Science, I would be: marine biology
If I were a theory, I would be: chaos theory
If I were a famous person, I would be: smug
If I were an electronic equipment, I would be: the ac
If I were sport, I would be: ok so not sports. scrabble
If I were a movie, I would be: amellie
If I were a cartoon, I would be: luann
If I were an explorer, I would be: dead
If I were a scientist, I would be: archimedes :D
If I were a relation, I would be: not very nice to know
If I were a river, I would be: a brook pretending to be one
If I were intoxication, I would be: a nicotine buzz
If I were alone, I would be: making tea or reading
If I were a question, then I would be: han?
If I were a hobby, I would be: something totally pointless
If I were a habit, I would be: fidgeting
If I were in an atom, I would be: invisible?
If I were an end, I would be: a happy ending
If I were you, I would be: not reading this .


I was tagged by Jo and i tag Lara, Serendipiduous, Anwesha and Oopie

You Are an Afternoon Person

You can find energy any time of the day ... or night! You prefer to be out and about when most other people are. Very early mornings or very late nights aren't really your thing. You're practically solar powered, and the afternoon is when do best.

Are You a Morning Person or Night Person?

Things that make me happy right now

Incredibly pretty pair of long bronze earrings.
Meeting friend who I hadn’t seen for a long time
Getting treated to toast n stew
Plans of sleepover at bestest friend and rock’ s etc (I’ve mentioned her before)
The thought of meeting a lot of friends for girly lunch tomorrow
Not having any work
And yet getting a comp to myself (that is so rare in this office!)
Radioblog playing softly

hate-list updated. includes sleazy photographer person one. and fatso busybody irritating intern, one . and now excludes not-very-polite-but-actually-quite-nice person-in-new-team.

sleazy photographer(SP) besides trying to imply that "there is friendship between us" (WTF!! what does that mean?)also discussed pornography(this, 2 weeks after i join) (and i think its sleazy to do so. even if you think that makes me a prude) and makes crank calls at my extension.

so obviously when some guy calls at our extension and keeps on saying hello even after i said hello in reply, i assumed it was SP, and was a wee bit rude. after which the line got disconnected. i hang up. try to get back to work. when idiot phone rings again. i bark a really terrible sounding hello into the phone. person at the the other end of the line asks for fatso intern. intern answers the phone. which is when it occurs to me that, the voice did not quite sound like SP. it was in fact, or so intern tells me, my boss's boss. intern also tells me that boss's boss actually asked who had answered the phone inititally.(thankfully boss hung up before intern told him that it was me, new female/trainee who definitely should not have an attitude problem and should NOT bark hello's in to the phone)

i have decided that i will fake laryngitis and speak to boss's boss in sign language. or pass chits. or mime. or in anyway delete my voice from his aural memory. (is there such a thing as an aural memory?)

and yes i generally do not call people fatso. or fat. i call intern so, because he is an irritating name dropping pompous ass.

darn! cute guy at work is cute no more.

and there is possibility that i wont be working under my totally lovely boss anymore. my boss is the most amazing woman ever. she can turn the crap i write into an actual article. and in the entire building she's the only person in this entire building who counts me as human. also she never ever points out that what i write is total crap. sigh. and now i'll be shifted to a team of nice enough people or so i can assume, except that they were a team before i joined, and will treat me like an outsider. so jokes will be cracked which i wont get which wont be explained to me. and my articles will be subbed to bits. and... sigh. this too shall pass, i guess.

am whining too much these days, no? happy thoughts then. byline's come out six times already. yay me. bestest-friend-and-rock-one-person-who gets-me-totally-and-loves-me-despite-and-does-not-make-fun-of-me is in town. so yay!

skulk, skulk skulk.



am at work on Sunday. but skulking so that i can file silly story first and run away. am terrified that boss's boss will see me and send me on crazy story which no-one wants to do. and that's another thing. what is it with me and crazy stories? walked about like maniac and accosted random people on park street with bizarre questions. and then went to the tea table and accosted other touristy looking people with more questions.

and wanted to text colleague saying that i really liked his article. except in the process ended up sending text to boss. so boss thinks am presumptuous lil thing now. or worse. that am sycophantic. yay me. and obviously i cant send her a message saying that it wasn't meant for you. what would i say any way, "am sorry the message wasn't mean for you. your article was not nice?"...sheesh!

PMS and lock-yourself-up-in-the-loo-to-cry day. i really wish i could do something about them lachrymal glands. its totally ridiculous how almost anything can set them off. arrrgh.

Blue Monday

i need to whine. and take a crying jag. and spend an entire day feeling sorry for myself until am so sick of self that i have no option but to stop. funny thing is that i have nothing really to crib about. i have a really nice job. very few people actually get this job fresh out of college. and no one has actually said that i am a complete idiot for not knowing the things am supposed to. and whoever whines about not having friends at work ?

Day Two in the Life and Times of a Trainee Reporter


Very productive day today. Reached place of work at 1 (as was asked to, by boss. Still don’t get concept but? Why 1? Why in this maddening heat would you ask people to leave their homes at 12 in the afternoon? ). Did not find boss in seat. And I had nothing to do. No stories that I could have work on. No previous day’s stories to file. No subbing guy’s head to chew on for screwing up previous day’s article. So twiddled thumbs. Got water. Visited loo. Got tea. Came back and peeped in boss’s cubicle. Boss was still not in her seat. Asked moderately approachable people if similar situations(of not having anything to do, not having access to comp so that you can pretend to do something, is something that happens to people). Said approachable people were obviously very sensible and did not deem question worthy of answer. Oh n did I mention? Every ones is always busy here. Even people who stop by other’s cubicles for a chat do this in a decidedly busy-I-have-work way. Which is why, not having anything to do becomes really really scary and stressful. Yes imagine that, a stressful day spent doing nothing.

Finally boss arrives and sends me to go hunt today’s newspapers n various magazines to get ideas for stories I could do. Three newspapers. All in Bengali. Ouch. After which photographer decides to take a picture of my eyes for random story on sleeplessness. Ok not so random then. Remember, story on insomnia. Weird looking eyes that are meant to look tired, with slightly misshapen eyebrows. Mine. After which I was made to call up all sorts of people related to a story idea. Said people were unfortunately were “unreachable” and were not around to answer my questions.

Oh yes and no cigarettes smoked. All smokers at work stand outside the office building and light up, n for now am just too scared to do so with them. What if they just turn around and scream “you new person, you, how dare you stand with us experienced journalists when you have not even covered/filed a story?” or you know give me one of those scary glowering looks.

Scary place this. HR people obviously do not know of a concept called induction. Which is why I walk around the whole blasted building like a very awed and fascinated looking tourist on a sight seeing trip.

So yes, very eventful and tiring day today. Yawn.

Update: pics of eyes did not come out today. gah. might on sunday. or maybe they 'll see what the eyebrow lady sees n reject it because of wierd looking eyebrows

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Sundays are my days for getting fed by people I think. Like last Sunday P cooked awesome lunch n all I did was sit around pretty n not lift finger. Today I landed at Soda’s place who also cooked me lunch n we gorged on all kinds of comfort food… which included everything from salami n chocolates to alu bhaja. And acquired new pair of really cool roman sandals type shoes… and ooh I love the way they look , except that I have no where to wear them to, no hot date where I can wear pretty shoes n show off nice pedicured feet. Sigh

So am no more sniffling to…



uff i really need to read less chick lit

I feel stupid and contagious. sigh.

I never thought I’d say this, but am tired of talking. I don’t want to talk about clothes, or my hair or my skin or about how other “badly other people seem to write”. Am sorry but I don’t give damn. Am tired of not seeing movies because I know no-one I can watch it with. And am tired of considering watching movies alone( i havent actually been driven to actually do that yet), or worse having to watch it with parents. I want my life back. I want college back.

Was going through my diary today. It’s been long since I’ve actually headed in the general direction of my study table. So hadn’t done the what-did-I-do-this-day-of-the-week-thing. Besides discovering that I haven’t written in that diary for 3 months and ten days I discovered another pertinent fact. That the only times when I’m readable is when I'm either very angry, or very depressed or very very infatuated. Now isn’t that strange? The normal me bores me. Hah, even I don’t find myself interesting. May be am not so vain after all. Or am just very very boring. Sigh. All an effect of the blahs, this.

I have the blahs. Not the blues, although there is that too, just the blahs. I feel stuck and nothing seems to be helping. Not pep talks, not the company, not books, not music, not sugar loaded cookies. Sigh. Not even whining and sighing. Blah…

hehehe

cringe cringe cringe. screw your eyes shut and maybe the world will not matter.

Isn’t it sad that in all these years I haven’t learned to take myself less seriously? God I need to lighten up. Thankfully though, the people I have embarrassed myself in front of aren’t people I will see anymore of after this week expires. What fun. And what a relief.

It’s fascinating how everyone’s feelings and experiences are always bigger than yours. Every one has been more depressed than you. Been angrier than you, with greater reasons to be so. Done cooler things than you. Been lonelier than you. Hell even had worse cramps than you.

If you are twenty one (and a half) and lonely and a little scared that you will never never be not lonely…It doesn’t mater because you are just twenty one.

What I don’t understand I this…how does the possibility that you might not be lonely at say, twenty six, make you feel better now?

And That's It

and more...

Top three songs that work better than chamomile tea.

Grrrr. People stay away. Do not talk to me. Do not smile. Do not expect conversation. And for gods sake shut up about the weather. I don’t want to know about your boyfriend. Or your girlfriend. Or about the pressure you are facing at work. Or about your god damn hair fall problem.

Or about your cheery perfect life. Or about how you think the skies are blue and the weather perfect (yes especially that. Shut up about the weather. Ok?) actually I don’t want to know anything about you. Yes you. What are you staring at? What makes you confide in me so? Do I look like a shrink to you? Huh huh huh ?

I think am going to lock self up in the bathroom ad cry some more.

PMS has fucked my brain. Have been alternating between the previous two states all day.

song's been playing in my head for an entire week.

Aaargh. The gods are conspiring. And trying to put me in place for admitting to being vain (coz lets face it I’ve been vain for long. And wasn’t punished before.).

Have acquired hideous looking clot in left eye. Which isn’t infected as yet. But optometrist says it might get so if I wear lenses. Which means that I have to wear glasses to work for two god damned weeks. And did I say when my glasses were made? Circa 2001. Yes, very fashionable. Lenses as thick as bottle glass. Immensely flattering. Very good for the self esteem. I love being the Indian female answer to Drew Carrey


And of course what is even better is how the standard of small talk has improved after I started wearing my glasses. In my pre glasses day it was “god it’s so cold. How come you’re wearing sleeveless *insert piece of clothing* . Are you not cold?

Post glasses: “you have glasses? I didnt know. God you look soooooooo different.”

Yes people, please do tell me what kind a geek I look like. Am down on bended knees asking you to please please please tell me how “the spectacle-look does not suit me”.


Am made of sterner stuff I think. I shall not give in and spend all the money I have left on new pair of glasses. I shall resist. This too shall pass. Or so I tell myself.

Thank god for small mercies though. At least there is no-one in Calcutta who I’d really need to pretty self up for. Sigh. (hush. I just forgot. Tis conspiracy time. No no no. no mercies. There is nothing to be thankful for)

the only song that I can make a pretense at playing on the guitar. (just the bass by the way) one of the songs without which girl bonding with S is incomplete. the song that reminds me of her. and of how we used to be. miss you.

Mirror Mirror…



Have never quite thought of myself as vain. I figured that I was quite balanced. Healthy sense of self esteem. Occasional bouts of feeling like shit. But mostly, quite balanced. Until yesterday.

Girl talk with S (this be different S) made me realize me that we women, (or well just the two of us, then) are ridiculously vain. And it’s not a conscious sense of vanity. It’s just there vaguely, at the back of my head. Like on a good hair day. With that slight shampoo smell. The scrunchy/band never stays on. Every five minutes a strand of hair must be tucked in behind the ears. Or be twisted around a finger. And if no-one’s watching be sniffed at. Does it still smell of shampoo? Eww… no smells of cigarettes now. And the funny bit? I don’t even know am doing it. And won’t know until you actually point it out to me.

Or the day when you wearing a particularly nice shade of lip gloss. Granted it doesn’t stay on for two long. But it doesn’t actually require “blending” every five minutes. You know what I mean don’t you? That discreet way you press your lips together to supposedly blend lipstick in?

Or the n number of times you press the tip of you fingers to the corners of your eyes just to check if the kajal has smudged or not.

And god help me on the days am wearing nice earrings. am accused being overtly partial to earrings. But what can I do? they're so pretty!(Bought a pair yesterday too. Bronze-ish. Really pretty!)

It’s not vanity really. May be its just that I like being a girl. Or may be the ugly duckling phase has left its scars. So am overcompensating by telling self that look am duckling no more. Or may be am just very restless. Must always fiddle. (bleh now I sound like a pre-pubescent)

What bothers me is this. Is it just me? Am I really that vain? And if I am, should I not be more bothered? And why am I still fiddling with that silver jhumka then? And what makes me smile when the bangles jingle while am tapping away at my key-board.
(And please note the bangle thing isn’t as theatric as it sounds. It isn’t exactly bollywood heroine-esq chanak-chanak. This is more subtle. You can barely hear it. Even the person beside me can barely hear it. It’s true. Seriously! You can’t.

OF CHOCOLATE CAKES AND WONKY OVENS


There is this amazing recipe for chocolate cake that I got from S. It’s the nicest yummiest cake ever. In fact it’s perfect. Except that the perfect cake requires a perfect oven and an eggbeater. You can obviously make the batter manually but till date the cake hasn’t quite turned out as perfect as it did on S’s oven and with S’s egg beater. And so every time I get cravings for that special chocolate cake, I deprive myself saying that I’ll make me the perfect cake once I get that eggbeater, and a better non wonky oven.

Though the times I have actually given into cake cravings and baked me cake it hasn’t turned out that bad. Just less than perfect.

And so there I was dreaming about cake, not baking cake, depriving self of cake. And today was hit by moment of epiphany. I realized that the only person who was really bothered about whether the cake is perfect or not is me. Every one else, including S, quite like my cake.

Moral of the story? Don’t wait for the perfect cake. Enjoy yours. Don’t deprive yourself because it’s not spongy enough or because you have to scrape of the 1 mm thick burnt bits.

So there. I have said it all. This is my story and am sticking to it. Not only am I sticking to it, am also going to tell my future grandchildren this story. Even if they roll their eyes and change the topic. Some day they’ll realize that the perfect cake is not worth waiting for. The eggbeater might not ever happen. Your oven, like mine, might always be stuck on 200 degree centigrade. Or not. But do you really want to wait that long to find out?

Take my advice. Don’t.