Alphabet Soup II

Guilt
Now that Esteban has made his exit, after a long companionship lasting 4 years, if not more, I have to find a solution to Sanchez’s DVD tray which keeps popping open at the most inopportune moments. I suppose since transitions are on the charts nowadays, my hypocrisy is also making a public face: yes, I have become one of ‘them’ smartphone toting women. I know it is criminal to have a phone which probably values the same as a staff member’s 6 month salary. But I never splurge, otherwise. Honestly.

Identity
So I’m a little late in doing the whole ‘finding meaning in the simple and obscure things of life’ primarily because I’ve always been boxed in the other compartment. Amongst siblings, roles are reserved or ascribed, fixed almost. So if I want to start writing, I’m deviating from what I’m supposed to be good at, painting. No wonder it has taken this long to find a voice.

Anger
Speaking of which, I have realized I hate confrontations. I’d rather ignore, overlook, or move on (convincing myself along the way that it wasn’t worth it to begin with) than face the issue at hand, even if I am the one being wronged. Also my anger is so short lived that the time taken from the parking lot to the office of the HR manager who screwed up my pay-slip (for instance) is enough to cool me down and revert to my usual uber polite social self all over again: “Jee, yeh please kar dain; Shukriya”. What is up with that? I can recall life changing moments when all I said was something to the effect of it aint over till the fat lady sings, where I should’ve probably punched the person on the face, or at least stomped on their polished shoes. This could be a personality flaw.

Lust
Wisdom often comes from unexpected sources and people, especially if they are 9 years your junior. And they say things like “apa, you need to fall in love, too” when you refuse to believe their fellow 14 year old friends are in love with their pubescent, underage drivers with too much pocket-money boyfriends. I can’t decide which is worse: admonitions from younger siblings, or retired uncles lusting over Diya Mirza at eid dinners.

Vulnerability
Newsflash: Boys love vulnerable girls. I read an article in my freshman year on the “Lean and Hungry” look, which the author used to describe twiggies and skinny people in general, and how they almost by virtue (vice) of being so lean and hungry and emaciated, were suspect. As opposed to the well-fed and wholesome look which was much more trusting. A certain someone I know is always the object of every man’s affection. Now, I know of them shallow sorts who only look at faces, but now I’ve realized what the charm is. She epitomizes the “vulnerable”,“I need a savior” look(not the same as damsel in distress, mind you – needs further explanation). And you boys love that, don’t you?