i want to bury myself in laundry clothes... smelling you..
it is good to be drunk. and forgetful. and not remember how things really were...
Monday, March 29, 2010
the Yoricks
Every time I have a conversation, I feel strained, vague, and distant. Approaching vanishing point.
[You must have noticed that this blog no more caters to the promise of laughter. It is much defeated. You are no more in my mind. I am.]
And sometimes I just leap out of myself and watch me master the inconsequential profiteering of idle time. I never monopolize a conversation. I hardly listen anyway. You would never know. I can repeat what you say, I am sure. And I will throw in flattery betwixt these recollectory words. You would never notice what went amiss. When you shall retrieve, you will think of me, and think of you, have a small smile to your lips, and pat your shoulder a little for having had emerged as victorious this last moment. with me. And in the meanwhile, secretly, you are preparing for your next moment. A secret unto you. We don't realize but we are always prepared for our next moment. whatever, however, wherever it be. Magic.
Life is a series of performances. Each moment you willingly, unselfishly, unconsciously, dedicate to the other. You give your best performance each time.
We are always quite, playing the Shakespearean fool. Where be our gibes?
[You must have noticed that this blog no more caters to the promise of laughter. It is much defeated. You are no more in my mind. I am.]
And sometimes I just leap out of myself and watch me master the inconsequential profiteering of idle time. I never monopolize a conversation. I hardly listen anyway. You would never know. I can repeat what you say, I am sure. And I will throw in flattery betwixt these recollectory words. You would never notice what went amiss. When you shall retrieve, you will think of me, and think of you, have a small smile to your lips, and pat your shoulder a little for having had emerged as victorious this last moment. with me. And in the meanwhile, secretly, you are preparing for your next moment. A secret unto you. We don't realize but we are always prepared for our next moment. whatever, however, wherever it be. Magic.
Life is a series of performances. Each moment you willingly, unselfishly, unconsciously, dedicate to the other. You give your best performance each time.
We are always quite, playing the Shakespearean fool. Where be our gibes?
Sunday, March 28, 2010
V.W.
what a shame it is to finally start looking and feeling like Virginia Woolf, to have two suicide attempts in your resume, the same psychological conditions in your repertoire, to become half-lesbian, and THEN to leave writing... and literature.
Though there was never a Leonard.
Monday, March 22, 2010
work
I didn't get admissions to a doctoral program this year. And amazingly I wasn't exactly sad. I was disappointed, yes. The only time I cried was when I didn't get accepted in Cornell. That's because Cornell was my last hope, my ticket to get the hell out of NY. I can't tell you how important it is/was that it happened. NY with all its colors, all the vibrancy, all the Empire State of minds couldn't fool me. Wish it could. Anyway, so every grad school I applied to for a PhD program this Fall, rejected me. And all of them regretted. "We regret to inform..." Don't regret. Just take me. But of course, they let me go. Kind of like a sad end to a love story.
Anyway, so I am applying to some places for a job in case I might fish one out from this market. I need a job to keep me company for just a year, after which I shall repeat the whole process of applying to a grad school. So a contract job for a year, that's what I need. No strings attached. A par-time lover? The fuckbuddy of jobs.
The other day I came across a copy writing job. I officially have never worked as a copywriter before. But I have a very strong intuition that I will master it. I have had done some freelance work twice before. Not much to include in a resume or a cover letter. But enough to feel safe and protected by. I can handle it, I tell myself. So, I was applying for a job completely out of my league- a Senior Copywriter, which offered quite a fat lump of compensation. I thought to myself, why not take a shot at it. Just for the humor. I mean no harm sending a resume and cover letter. And in my cover letter, I decided to be super cocky and aggressive. It was a misdirected attempt to stand out in the crowd. Holler a lot! Just grab the attention, and trap them into offering you an interview. And after that be fascinating if not convincing. Or else, be a delightful confusion. Of course, all this applies only if you know nothing about what the job demands. Since, I had no copies to impress them by, I decided to be the cockiest, inexperienced, unemployed copy writer out there. Anyway, I haven't heard from the company yet. In the meanwhile I called up my professional copy writer friend back in India, and did what I can only think as a crash-call to know "everything about copy writing but was afraid to ask".
Hope no prospective boss of mine ever reads this post. That's the upside to having an unpopular blog :)
Anyway, so I am applying to some places for a job in case I might fish one out from this market. I need a job to keep me company for just a year, after which I shall repeat the whole process of applying to a grad school. So a contract job for a year, that's what I need. No strings attached. A par-time lover? The fuckbuddy of jobs.
The other day I came across a copy writing job. I officially have never worked as a copywriter before. But I have a very strong intuition that I will master it. I have had done some freelance work twice before. Not much to include in a resume or a cover letter. But enough to feel safe and protected by. I can handle it, I tell myself. So, I was applying for a job completely out of my league- a Senior Copywriter, which offered quite a fat lump of compensation. I thought to myself, why not take a shot at it. Just for the humor. I mean no harm sending a resume and cover letter. And in my cover letter, I decided to be super cocky and aggressive. It was a misdirected attempt to stand out in the crowd. Holler a lot! Just grab the attention, and trap them into offering you an interview. And after that be fascinating if not convincing. Or else, be a delightful confusion. Of course, all this applies only if you know nothing about what the job demands. Since, I had no copies to impress them by, I decided to be the cockiest, inexperienced, unemployed copy writer out there. Anyway, I haven't heard from the company yet. In the meanwhile I called up my professional copy writer friend back in India, and did what I can only think as a crash-call to know "everything about copy writing but was afraid to ask".
Hope no prospective boss of mine ever reads this post. That's the upside to having an unpopular blog :)
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
everybody says I am fine
At the doctor's office. Everytime I visit my PCP the first thing she asks is "Hello Tina, how are you?" And I am all for courtesy. No problem. I mechanically answer: "I am fine. How about yourself?" And she gives a fleeting smile, and a brief "Fine", then asks "So, what seems to be the problem today?" As IF that is a whole other question! And both of us magically forget within a nano -second that I was oh-so-fine why just a nano -second ago!
Now all of a sudden, this last visit, which by the way was yesterday, it occurred to me that the first impression I made to the doc until today has ALWAYS been a lie! Of course. Don't you see it? I mean How much Fine can I be when I am evidently at a Doctor's office? I mean what the hell am I doing at a Doctor's office if I am really Fine? That just piles on Health-Insurance-guilt of some sort on my already hunched-back conscience. (and now that it's Obama's presidency, everybody is either aware or bewared about the Health-Insurance scenario. even that dog on the street knows. if the Alsatian is having unprotected sex with the Dalmatian, he better be aware that the puppies to come might just as well have mummy's spots. and no amount of "out, out damned spot" can ever have them removed. and of course no spot-lightening medicinal cream for dogs yet. ) I mean, of course I am not fine! why don't I just say it? What is this compelling need to say "I am fine" ? or is it all about being positive, and perpetually smiling, and sort of maintaining the corporate code wherever we are, and whatever might our professions be! everything has become an acceptable lie, and nobody is expecting the entire truth. Perhaps, not even the doctor at some level: something like, it's ok to complain about the chest pains or heart burns, and even the stomach ache with the constant diarrhoea or constipation... but draw the line right there woman! I don't need to know, and you don't need to give me graphic descriptions of the color, size and shape of the stool neither the silent farting all night, with or without the smell. That's just too much information. save some for later? Don't just say whatever comes to your head. I mean who does really want to hear something like "o my life is a gaping hole, and the sun spots seem smaller and more promising instead; but who could bear the heat or else I'd go live there! and since I can't tell you all this and make myself look like a pathetic loser or a constipated whiner, let's just say... "I am fine."' Fashionable. Expected. Succinct. Corporate. Time-saver.
Anyway, so yesterday. for the first time, when the doctor asked me "Hello! How are you tina?" I replied "Not so fine actually." nothing emotional about it. just an honest answer to a doctor. I realized it's safe at the doc's office to come up with replies like that and not seem cranky. She wouldn't be probing my heart. just probing my body.
Now all of a sudden, this last visit, which by the way was yesterday, it occurred to me that the first impression I made to the doc until today has ALWAYS been a lie! Of course. Don't you see it? I mean How much Fine can I be when I am evidently at a Doctor's office? I mean what the hell am I doing at a Doctor's office if I am really Fine? That just piles on Health-Insurance-guilt of some sort on my already hunched-back conscience. (and now that it's Obama's presidency, everybody is either aware or bewared about the Health-Insurance scenario. even that dog on the street knows. if the Alsatian is having unprotected sex with the Dalmatian, he better be aware that the puppies to come might just as well have mummy's spots. and no amount of "out, out damned spot" can ever have them removed. and of course no spot-lightening medicinal cream for dogs yet. ) I mean, of course I am not fine! why don't I just say it? What is this compelling need to say "I am fine" ? or is it all about being positive, and perpetually smiling, and sort of maintaining the corporate code wherever we are, and whatever might our professions be! everything has become an acceptable lie, and nobody is expecting the entire truth. Perhaps, not even the doctor at some level: something like, it's ok to complain about the chest pains or heart burns, and even the stomach ache with the constant diarrhoea or constipation... but draw the line right there woman! I don't need to know, and you don't need to give me graphic descriptions of the color, size and shape of the stool neither the silent farting all night, with or without the smell. That's just too much information. save some for later? Don't just say whatever comes to your head. I mean who does really want to hear something like "o my life is a gaping hole, and the sun spots seem smaller and more promising instead; but who could bear the heat or else I'd go live there! and since I can't tell you all this and make myself look like a pathetic loser or a constipated whiner, let's just say... "I am fine."' Fashionable. Expected. Succinct. Corporate. Time-saver.
Anyway, so yesterday. for the first time, when the doctor asked me "Hello! How are you tina?" I replied "Not so fine actually." nothing emotional about it. just an honest answer to a doctor. I realized it's safe at the doc's office to come up with replies like that and not seem cranky. She wouldn't be probing my heart. just probing my body.
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