Saturday, February 14, 2009

Win With Weesa.

A few days ago.

Music was my boyfriend and my best friend, until I killed them both last night. Well, I killed my obsession for starters. I have these obsessive tendencies with most things I tend to like, (clarification: not people, only things - not a stalker), and being highly aware of this compulsive behavior, I never try/ied addictive substances. If I had ever smoked, I’d be a chain smoker for sure. And to think, in my freshman year people said to my sister (then sophomore) ‘yaar M, tumhari behen to stoner lagti hai’, to which I’d roll my heavy lidded eyes and walk away, giving them even more reason to believe so. I am only allowed to be addicted to orange chocolate and ginger snaps.

So, coming back to the previous issue, Shah will be glad to know I have killed the song, after playing it nonstop on Sanchez for 60 hours and singing parts of it out loud, whenever someone visited (and yes, we get a lot of visitors yesterday).

(40 minutes later)

The sun has set since that last sentence, so I’m going to go switch the lights back on.

A few days later.

So its Valentine’s Day, and the only three reasons why it hasn’t really hit me is because (a) I’ve lost contact with Khan whose birthday was on the 11th (and insisted on being given flowers, preferably roses), (b)Sanaa is in Canada, and (c) well, there is no third reason but two didn’t make my argument sound believable enough, so there. Today Squin was telling me how her mother in law admitted to spending most of her time doing two things: worrying and watching tv; I couldn’t help but relate! My parents are out for a ‘couples’ dinner’ at the Punjab Club, and I sat at home, eating chicken karahi and moongray ki sabzi for dinner. In my defence, I was supposed to be somewhere else, even had a nice outfit planned, but that's another long story. I also watched the beginning, end, and middle of Notting Hill on three separate channels, and chose to see the latter half of The Nanny Diaries for the 4th time ever (first 3 times on the plane last summer), only because the nanny becomes an anthropologist in the end. I also realized that Scarlet Johansson has a HUGE butt.

But coming back to V-day, I thought because I don’t have anything particularly significant to contribute in terms of love advice, except for ‘please refrain from buying frames, candles (scented) and anything heart shaped/red glittery for your lowers’ I will share my wish-list of fun presents:

1. A shower cap
2. Socks (printed, striped, polka dotted, the crazier the better)
3. Terry’s chocolate orange
4. Chocolate chip cookies
5. A companion for Radioactive Puppy
6. Stickers
7. Anything turtle.

These would make me wery happy to be your walentine.

Moving on, because this post is not connected to anything, nor follows a general sequence of related events, the great news of the week is that my baby brother got into every single place he applied to, for grad school! I have agreed to go drop him off end of summer, and promised him an Arsenal match as his graduation present. I feel I went a bit overboard in my generosity, but ‘tis cool. I am secretly looking forward to painting my face red with war paint. I have tendencies to do groupie things like that. Sometimes.

Saturday, February 07, 2009

Malinowski was.

I am making slides on a Saturday night. I feel a bit overworked. But then again I am stressed even when I don’t have work to do, thinking that there has to be something on my to-do list that I’m forgetting. I remind myself of the motif on my mother’s oven mittens and kitchen apron: ‘Hassle Me; I Thrive on Stress’ which has a bedraggled fuzzy animal with a spatula in hand, on it. I spend half my life, it seems, on PowerPoint. And the other half, reading photocopied chapters of books or catching up on sleep. I know I’m not money greedy, but as someone recently said, money gives you options, and more importantly, freedom. So I can safely say, the reason why I work is so I can start living that life, and doing what I really want to do. I decided this last week, by the way.

I’m not much of a career person, and don’t really intend on working (at least not 9 to 5) for a living, to which my parents disapprovingly, though half jokingly, ask if they can get a fee refund from my university. After working at an environment/conservation NGO (Dream #1), teaching at my alma mater (Aspiration, not really dream, #2) and vicariously living the artists life (The road not taken, unfortunately) I wish to be a traveler, and write travelogues for a living. Since I chose to be an anthropologist (in the making) rather than an economist, lawyer, fighter pilot, etc., I wish to write ethnographies on my journeys and adventures in the world of the known and unknown, the people I meet, the food I eat, the bugs that bite me, or I eat back in retaliation (tip: extract neon mango bug juice before trying). That’s the plan so far; unless I am foiled again.

Sunday, February 01, 2009

My Solar System.

You call it a circle of friends because, I suppose, you couldn’t really have a square of friends. That would just be wrong! I can think of a triangle though; Like me and them, of late. We would definitely classify as a triangle. The great thing about this shape, which incidentally happens to be by favorite, is that if you take away a line, any line, the remaining lines will still connect. Although it may not classify as a vector (who cares about those in real life anyway?) it doesn’t fall apart.

Recently, I saw an artist’s sculpture display which was based on the circular form. One wall of his installation was filled with handwritten sentences in Urdu, but without the nuqtas, or dots, immediately rendering the writing (on the wall, pun not intended) meaningless. Although I wasn’t able to hear the explanation of his work, I gathered he meant to emphasise the circle as the basic unit of understanding anything. The planets, the cycle of life, the movement of the earth around the sun (although technically elliptical) or human notions of food chains, rebirth, arrow charts, wheels and movement, the list is endless. Even when we speak of paradigm shifts and periods of chaos where knowledge is created, the process is cyclical.

The breakdown happens with squares. The opposite sides are alien, and if one line disconnects, there is a disarray of relations. You will touch base with two others, but always be struggling with the fourth. It gets worse if you’re bad at making eye contact for long, if at all. The issue stems from the use of parallel lines. Lines that never connect, consumed in their eternal path to infinity. These parallel lines will never connect, and by virtue of not connecting, will never cross, and thus never disconnect. How do, then, parallel lines wishing to change their course, break away?