The Cycle of Self-Doubt and Brutal Arrogance

Mostly its self-doubt. I just wrote arrogance cause I wanted to make myself feel better.

Also, I think, it'll make for an interesting character.

But no, coming back to my cycle of self-doubt and the second stage which is, somewhat confident, its pretty draining. Yes, it is. I feel like, the more TV I watch, the more books I read, the more people I meet, it just keeps pushing me lower and lower and lower into my ever-so-inviting well of self-doubt. People are just so incredibly talented out there. There's just no way in the world that I can be a fan of Game of Thrones and in this same miserable life of mine, even for a second, call myself a writer. A writer of what? Really?

I'm very upset with the turn of events. When I say events, I mean my immense lack of talent. Fuck. So today is another day in the string of my self-doubt days, and I've begun to believe that unless I do something fantastic one day, this feeling is here to stay. Permanent.  

There's power in being vulnerable? What?

Its one of those days today that I needed some saving. I felt so vulnerable. It feels like, everything has a profound effect on me. I'm an easy person to hurt. An easy person to be made to feel insecure. An easy person to humiliate. An easy (very easy) person to move. And I'm not fooling you with the scale of this.

Since an year or two, I've noticed that I get more and more vulnerable each day. And to myself,  this is how I describe it  - I get more and more weak each day.

An year back, when I was in advertising, this happened. At the end of the month, we would all be emailed our salary slips by the HR before the salary gets credited. One day, I accidentally got the salary slip of another person. This man was a peon in our office. I was 25 and he is 45. 20 years older than I am. He has two children who go to school and a wife who works at other people's home helping in cleaning. cooking etc. At that time, I was getting close to thirty eight thousand rupees every month. Out of shameless curiosity, I opened his salary receipt.  His salary was fifty six hundred rupees. Fifty six hundred. I felt like something just ruptured my heart from within. My eyes welled up and I was unable to think. I instantly felt ashamed, guilty.. lets just say shitty altogether. My husband (then boyfriend) and I constantly think of business plans and things to do, constantly complaining of how this is not even close to being enough, how ours is a mediocre life. All of these conversations were racing in my mind, while I kept thinking of this man's two children who go to school, these little children who have actual needs. It took me a few weeks to get this out of my mind. Anyone that I shared this incident with, laughed it out, telling me how I need to have thicker skin, how I'm such a weak person to cry over everything.

And that is one line I get a lot in my life. How I'm too sensitive. How I'm too weak. How I need to be stronger so that nothing affects me. How I can never get ahead in life cause I'm just a very emotional person. How I'm foolish. How the world is not a trust fund that helps out everyone. How you only get what you deserve. How I'm ruining their moods and evenings by talking about such things. How unless "you can do something about it, there's no reason to talk about it". How everything hurts me. How everything worries me. How everything scares me. And somehow I've internalized it, that, I'm a vulnerable person. And yes, what a terrible thing to be it is.

So today, one of those days that I'm feeling terribly vulnerable, I came across this video. And what a wonderful revelation its been.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCvmsMzlF7o

So, alright, this post is making no sense, maybe I just needed to write it down. So, done then.

Living the (abnormal) Life

A wonderful thing happened today. I found a group of people I can finally feel,  I belonged to. And almost simultaneously found out that they're a sort of phenomenon to be studied - in fact, also dubbed as ones with abnormal tendencies.

Do you know what is the Peter Pan Generation?- These are groups of adults who do not acknowledge responsibilities like marriage, children and career, adults who refuse to grow up.

Funnily enough, my husband emailed me this article, calling me 'the leader' of 'this' generation. I'm mostly happy about it, knowing that he knows and knowing that he's okay with it.

I do in fact think a lot like that. I do refuse to grow up. Because honestly I see nothing great about being an adult. I think we unnecessarily complicate our lives with expectations that will do no good to anybody and stress ourselves out with innumerable lists on things we need to do, things we need to own, things we need to see, things we need to accomplish.

And we forget that we weren't born with these lists and there's no real proof that people who tick off all these, live a fuller and happier life. Then why exactly burden ourselves with these? Oh, to leave for your generations? Have you asked your future grandchildren or children if they want any? Are you living off your father's wealth?  Cause that'll sort of answer, do you want to continue this parasitic generation values? I say, let them be - free.

I in fact also believe that physical commitments such as these stagnate your life. You're so worried about fulfilling these on-paper duties, that you forget the life you're living right now. It somehow makes no sense in my mind to prepare for a luxurious life after 50 and suffocate my best years of 20s and 30s.

But I think this phenomenon is depicted wrong, these are not people who refuse to grow up, these are in fact people who refuse to take things too seriously. People who are a little more free minded than usual.

No, these are not people who are afraid to be in relationships or commitments, these are people who are free of the urge to be in a hundred social circles. These are not people who are scared of relationships, these are people who are not scared to be alone. And there is a difference. Big difference.

We're not looking for your approvals. We are okay to be stared at, to be questioned, to be tagged, to be name called, and to be envied (rightfully).

Sure, I have a lot of "I dunno"(s) in my life. But you see I'm in no hurry. I have no special place to be, and in doing so, every place is a place to be. I actually do make my life decisions based on "if its making me happy or not?" "If he/she makes me happy or not?" That's it. As simple as that. This is all that there is to my decision making. I dont overburden each decision of my life analyzing its 5-year repercussions. And I think I've done pretty damn fine.

I do believe we're misunderstood. Anyway, here's the link to the article that triggered this post. And please know, that there's more to this than meets the eye. Maybe, I've finally found my research subject. You think?

Facade of Announcements

Sometimes I wonder, if people did all these great things and had no one to tell them about.. will it mean less to them? If you went to all the wonderful places in the world and had no pictures to show for it, will that be worth any less?

Why am I asking awkward questions? Well, here's what happened. I loved Twitter, and people on it and comments and all the wonderful wittiness that came along. Then, I got extensively busy in a project and had no time to tweet. Or check or keep tabs at all. The project got over and I went back.

It felt nothing like it used to. I just couldn't fathom how this is happening? I used to love this.. this that I now find irritating, shallow, prejudiced and prude. I used to love these people, those who I now find whiny and groupy-ish.

I find no entertainment in people announcing their being stuck in traffic, or getting new red lipstick, or complaining about Monday, or telling me what they're eating, where they're going, where they've been, who they fuck or that they dont fuck enough.

So bloody irrelevant. Honestly, I liked the liking twitter phase better. Like belonging to something. Having so many people know so much abut my life and opinions. One feels appreciated and even celebrity-ish. Now I feel like an outsider. Like being surrounded by a high school cult that I'm not a part of. But most times, I notice the positives that came out of this and I wouldn't trade them for anything. Like, valuing experiences for what they are and when they are, without feeling the need to let a 1000 unknown people know about it. The blessing of zero distraction. I don't even pick up my phone for anything during the nine hours I'm at work. I get so much done, work related and else. Like keeping things private. And keeping opinions unannounced. Letting go of the organized routine of venting about each and everything I dislike under the sun. I find that I let go much more easily now, and things genuinely bother me less now that I've refrained from #outrage (;) since  a while.

You want to get a perspective on something, step away from it for a bit and you might see it for what it is.

Anyway, I'm looking for new addictions, ideas anyone? :)   

Re-reading, re-inventing, re-thought and relief.

The post before this. That made me smile so hard. This part:

I could be a hero now, or I could lose it all again, at once. What do I do? Do I do what? I’ll see what I do. I always end up doing something other than the plan anyway. Rights are too romantic. I need some aggression, I yearn some power. Some original game. Feel like the bad guy. Some flak. Or sympathy. Anything other than lucky and blessed, so fucking degrading.

I wasn't a hero, but I did do something. It took a lot of courage and it broke many hearts, but it was the right thing to do. It took this boy, and several other boys, and girls, and stories, and books, and music to do it. I'm glad its over. 


But to think of the other things. I do have some genuinely interesting problems. And plenty aggression, its now giving way to look like spirit and passion to me. It should be?


I've turned to be a terribly vulnerable over-thinking do-gooder. A combination of which will keep you occupied (and sad) for days in a row. And you wont even know why. So Priya told me the other day (like she's said so many times in the past) to please be the bitch that you are. Sly doesn't cut it for Priya, you should know.


My old life sucked ass. And Priya was an anchor. Pulled me together and kept me sane. And loved me unconditionally. And now she's getting married. SHE IS! :) Bas, itna hi kehna tha. That, and that I hadnt written in very long, so that too.


And I do have my own set of brown eyes to stare into. Or are they grey? I dont know. I'm not into eyes so much anymore.They're not important.

The Boy Who Made Me Think Otherwise

I've only ever deleted a blog post once. I regret it. In fact, that should've been a cue. Re-posting.

Written and originally published: April 27, 2009

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My plan was right. Everything was all set. And it looked perfect, ofcourse. It had to, it was afterall set to the minutest details by the people who cared the most about it, my parents. There was a boy in view, it was like one of those postcard perfect cogs. That was what was wrong with it, it was all so right. Something about that never quite fit well with me, and it wasn’t before last night that I had realized what it was. Some holy matrimony, that.

There were no wrongs here, things are so well defined that you have to be insanely blind to make a fall. You can’t even argue with someone like that, they essentially are too understanding. They had to be I guess. It was the setting. I get his sense of humour, sharp one this time. I look up and smirk at you big guy. Nicely done.

So as I feverishly ravished the irony of having all rights done to me and not being given any reasons to rebel out of it. Out of nowhere, the reason came to me. It took some nasty amount of alchohol and a grossly imperfect boy to make me see it, all in one night.

The touch of his fingers at my back was as alien as the thought of being there with him alone. A room full of things I had never seen before, someone I didn’t know a few hours ago, with me, at a distance of less than two fingers.

“You turn me on intellectually”, he said. I don’t even know your last name, boy. “Is it weird that I just want to keep talking to you all night long?” Guess that’s logical, since you really do not know where I’m coming from. “Sometime back, I had a neck injury which sent me straight to bed..” Tune out, tune out, tuning it all out. No shirts, haan. Fuck, that’s beautiful. Quite a work he is. He looks really young. Is it okay to ask his age now? Tune in. “.. and I hope you’d get to meet him, you’d like him”. No, thanks I think I’d pass on this one. I don’t need more problems, I need solutions.

“You have a charm of a little boy”, I said. “It’s starkly pervertish of me to be here I think. Umm, meaning very exhilarating!” Brown eyes, perfect chest, pretty hands, white starchy shirt, brown eyes, brown eyes.  I’m in deep trouble. “I knew that when we were dancing earlier in the club”. The glitter of the lights, your  hands on my waist, I knew all along. “Knew what?” huh? “Umm, that you’re not drunk”.

He spoke with such fervour I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not so simple. And I stared in utter disbelief. And some longing. I sat cross legged and looked on, why can’t I be so lost in life. Why do I need to know everything, anyway. I want to have a distant dream, something so quintessentially outrageous, that it’s scary to ask for it from the world. I need some loud smirks, some cold judgments, some discomforting confrontations, what’s that word they say, motivation, yeah, all that. I’m used to it, that’s the life I’ve known, why change now? Why?

“Is this a one-night stand? Just say yes, it’s kick-y, I’ve never had one.” “Yes, it’s a one night stand”. “SUPER! Haha” Yes, yes.  Super se oopar, Ha Ha. “So how old are you?”

Those perfect hands and the set of perfect eyes had every other imperfection of the suitable boy for me. Some screaming, some moaning later, I’m just as not-so-simple still, just a wee bit more sober than earlier. “It’s not even funny how much control you have over me!”, he said. That’s what I need in life, some grave mistakes that I don’t feel guilty for. Some wrong people who set your vision adrift.

I could be a hero now, or I could lose it all again, at once. What do I do? Do I do what? I’ll see what I do. I always end up doing something other than the plan anyway. Rights are too romantic. I need some aggression, I yearn some power. Some original game. Feel like the bad guy. Some flak. Or sympathy. Anything other than lucky and blessed, so fucking degrading.

“I want to know what’s so complicated, maybe the next one night stand then” “yeah, sure” Turn around, space. Breathe. 5,6 ,7 and go. “Alright I think I’d leave now, long ride back home” It seems going well, oh just say something simple and not promising. “Wait, isn’t the guy supposed to leave first? And feel like a stud?” Now, smile. Look cute, Smile. “You look fabulous in white, or I would’ve taken this shirt with me” Dress quickly, turn around, wink and obscene air kiss. “Alright you, later then”. Hugs. Walks. Walk out.

Just as easy as that. That’s what it took , and the long ride home. I want this. I want some genuinely interesting problems. Some real sins to think of. Some fiercely distinguished stories. Some invigorating, intriguing conversation with random strangers over rum, some whitewashed and renewed sense of freedom every morning. Un-surety. The foolish exhibition of things I don’t have, can’t do.  I so do not want IT all. I want this. And I want it quick and everlasting. Tell me how? Tell me, do. Lie back on the seat, turn Sinatra on. Look away.     

Being Insatiable

I'm frankly disgusted and appalled by my very mean and selfish spirit that just refuses to be satisfied. I have notions of change when I'm too busy and I cant sit still when I'm free. Its confusing to me and to everyone around me.  I always seem to want more. More is actually a very significant word for me. I do get it a lot from people, I mean, in a way I guess... like - what more do you want? I always reply with a very confident 'I don't know'. Does not end well.