I have been curiously restless since my birthday and I couldn't figure out why.I was twenty five, now I'm twenty six.
But my routine is the same, my words, my family, my thoughts, my looks, my feelings and my perspectives are still the same.
We never realize that there were expectations - until we are blindsided by disappointments.
For some bewildering reason, I expected my life to be dramatically, interestingly or at least, infinitesimally altered after my birthday. A dawn of maturity or a bright ray of clarity or a sudden insight into... well, something. But no such thing (or anything remotely like it) has happened yet!
May 22, 2010
May 15, 2010
Happy Birthday to me!
Today being my birthday, I wanted to write something august or sublime or at least dramatic.
But just like many things my life, this post surreptitiously weaved its way into my writing. Sneaky, naughty words!
I have blithely traipsed for twenty six years now and I intermittently wonder about the moment when I will see myself as an adult: Not merely a young-at-heart, hobnobbing with those worldly-wise and heartly-aged around me.
I'm pretty smart -That is to say, I can find my way in life. But there are times when something is so tempting, that the urge to defy the norms is compelling.
Thus the child in me runs with arms thrown wide, with sparkling eyes, to discover, to embrace, to annoy, to dream and to love.
And the adult in me sadly shakes its head and follows with a smile. I have, grudgingly at first, then with bubbling laughter, accepted that I'm not a cynic, and will thankfully never be.
The wishes have been pouring forth - It's wonderfully warm feeling when someone who is not obliged or compelled, wishes me. To see the wishes, to recognize the words and to realize the love!
Ah! I'm indeed blessed.
My parents love this day - my birth being the cause of their graduation from couple-hood to parenthood. What a momentous achievement even as a vulnerable, bawling baby!
The icing on the cake: Being twenty six has not made me anymore sophisticated or world-wise. In spite of my industrious schedule, I managed to reply to every wish, with the enthusiasm similar to a sweet sixteen celebration.
Except for this one momentous wish, that cleared all the cow-webs away about me being an adult: When my dear, dear friend called me, instead of saying a gracious 'Thank you!', I came up with 'Happy Birthday to you, too'!
:D I so do love myself.
But just like many things my life, this post surreptitiously weaved its way into my writing. Sneaky, naughty words!
I have blithely traipsed for twenty six years now and I intermittently wonder about the moment when I will see myself as an adult: Not merely a young-at-heart, hobnobbing with those worldly-wise and heartly-aged around me.
I'm pretty smart -That is to say, I can find my way in life. But there are times when something is so tempting, that the urge to defy the norms is compelling.
Thus the child in me runs with arms thrown wide, with sparkling eyes, to discover, to embrace, to annoy, to dream and to love.
And the adult in me sadly shakes its head and follows with a smile. I have, grudgingly at first, then with bubbling laughter, accepted that I'm not a cynic, and will thankfully never be.
The wishes have been pouring forth - It's wonderfully warm feeling when someone who is not obliged or compelled, wishes me. To see the wishes, to recognize the words and to realize the love!
Ah! I'm indeed blessed.
My parents love this day - my birth being the cause of their graduation from couple-hood to parenthood. What a momentous achievement even as a vulnerable, bawling baby!
The icing on the cake: Being twenty six has not made me anymore sophisticated or world-wise. In spite of my industrious schedule, I managed to reply to every wish, with the enthusiasm similar to a sweet sixteen celebration.
Except for this one momentous wish, that cleared all the cow-webs away about me being an adult: When my dear, dear friend called me, instead of saying a gracious 'Thank you!', I came up with 'Happy Birthday to you, too'!
:D I so do love myself.
May 13, 2010
Go, Go, Go!
With the new job, I think my blog is going to be 'work-centric' for a while. This week, it's about The Commute.
The things I have seen people do in cars during rush hours:
Scary, eh?
The things I have seen people do in cars during rush hours:
- Check face/hair in rear view mirror
- Pick nose/ear
- Hold food or drink in one hand and drive with the other
- Jabber away on the phone
- Fight with the passenger
- Fight with the caller on the phone
- Use GPS
- Work on the laptop sitting on passenger seat
- Read a magazine
- Yell at kids in the back-seat
- Bob to the music
- and finally, look right back at me.
Scary, eh?
May 8, 2010
The over-due one...
Ah, yes, I missed my blog this week- I had a few not-so-awesome adventures this past week.
Again, not my usual style of writing, but this has to be said:
First there was the phone interview at three noon. Stuffed my daughter with food, exhausted her by vigorous play in the park and put her to nap by half past one. Mission accomplished!
Sadly, she woke up right at three, as I picked up the call. So between the muting, sushing, unmuting, answering - The order was not always streamlined. Thus I did sush the interviewer. And thereby I kissed any chances goodbye.
But hey, I do underestimate myself all the time and I have been known to be wrong occasionally. So, drum rolls please (with streamers and a bow, of course) - I got the job. And the best part was being hired without the dreaded face-to-face.
So, my adventure begins here:
Bad traffic making commute a daily strife: Check.
Tried new routes to work: Check.
Got lost while trying new routes to work: Check.
A few U-Turns: Check.
Turned wrong-way into one way street: Check.
Went in squares around the building to find the entrance: Check.
Went in circles in the 4level garage to find a spot: Check.
Parked in a reserved parking for executives: Check.
Charmed the guards: Check.
Got stuck in the elevator: Check.
Got lost in the huge building trying to find the cafe: Check.
Thought my 36 year old Sr.collegue was 24, and treated him accordingly: Check.
And, the icing on the cake: Peered at the 3 forks, 2 spoons and 2 knives at the hi-funda restaurant team-lunch. Surreptitiously peered further at colleagues to confirm and followed suit.
And a final note: All this did not happen on the same day. They were delightfully spread apart on the said week.
Again, not my usual style of writing, but this has to be said:
First there was the phone interview at three noon. Stuffed my daughter with food, exhausted her by vigorous play in the park and put her to nap by half past one. Mission accomplished!
Sadly, she woke up right at three, as I picked up the call. So between the muting, sushing, unmuting, answering - The order was not always streamlined. Thus I did sush the interviewer. And thereby I kissed any chances goodbye.
But hey, I do underestimate myself all the time and I have been known to be wrong occasionally. So, drum rolls please (with streamers and a bow, of course) - I got the job. And the best part was being hired without the dreaded face-to-face.
So, my adventure begins here:
Bad traffic making commute a daily strife: Check.
Tried new routes to work: Check.
Got lost while trying new routes to work: Check.
A few U-Turns: Check.
Turned wrong-way into one way street: Check.
Went in squares around the building to find the entrance: Check.
Went in circles in the 4level garage to find a spot: Check.
Parked in a reserved parking for executives: Check.
Charmed the guards: Check.
Got stuck in the elevator: Check.
Got lost in the huge building trying to find the cafe: Check.
Thought my 36 year old Sr.collegue was 24, and treated him accordingly: Check.
And, the icing on the cake: Peered at the 3 forks, 2 spoons and 2 knives at the hi-funda restaurant team-lunch. Surreptitiously peered further at colleagues to confirm and followed suit.
And a final note: All this did not happen on the same day. They were delightfully spread apart on the said week.
May 3, 2010
Recipie for cutting spouse's hair...
I think this must be one of the most amusing and hilarious moments of my life.
Recipe for Cutting Spouse's Hair.
Ingredients:
1 Husband Lacking Hindsight.
1 Impish Wife
1 Gun-like high funda Machine.
8 Extra Hair Attachments.
1 Scissors.
2 Restraining Hair-Clips.
1 Comb.
2 Large, White, Glad Forceflex garbage bags.
1 Paper cape.
Preparation:
-Chase child to living room and tempt her with cartoon.
-Spread the Glad Forceflex bags on the floor next to a Power outlet.
-Plug in the 'Gun'.
-Force the paper cape through Subject's head.
-Place all paraphernalia within handy distance.
-Shove, pat, shake the Subject's head until positioned correctly.
-Place the longest trimmer blade on the 'Gun'.
-Switch on the gun.
-Say a prayer.
Directions:
1.Start from somewhere, while the subject yells about 'the neck, the neck'.
2.Begin again at the neck and work your way up towards the crown.
3.Repeat step 3 from left to right in parallel lines while subject has second thoughts.
4.Ask subject to hold his ears folded while tackling the temples.
5.If subject says that he never has to do that in SuperCuts, elucidate on the advantages of having two functioning ears - He is your first guinea pig afterall.
6.Stop and see how far you have progressed.
7.Pick another shorter trimmer blade if the hair is too long.
8.Repeat steps 1 to 5.
9.Now comes the difficult part - the crown and hair over the forehead- I admit, as a novice, it had me stumped.
10.Staring uncomprehendingly at it is not productive, so fix the Kozhi Kondai.
11.Take scissors and comb; part 1/2 inch sections with comb and cut sparingly.
12.If subjects says he will go to the professionals at this point, explain to him your superior wisdom from having hair 20" longer than his.
13.If necessary, use one of the restraining hair-clips on his mouth.
14.Finish off with trimming the neck hairline in a straight line.
15.Simmer subject's anger with thoughts of saving money by home hair-cuts.
16.Garnish with subdued giggles.
17.Sprinkle flattery generously.
Time taken: 20 minutes
Serves: 2 insane adults and all the blog readers.
Disclaimer: Do not try this at home.
PS: If you meet the subject, praise the cut. Remember, no bad comments, o.k.? I like my pretty little neck, thank you very much.
Recipe for Cutting Spouse's Hair.
Ingredients:
1 Husband Lacking Hindsight.
1 Impish Wife
1 Gun-like high funda Machine.
8 Extra Hair Attachments.
1 Scissors.
2 Restraining Hair-Clips.
1 Comb.
2 Large, White, Glad Forceflex garbage bags.
1 Paper cape.
Preparation:
-Chase child to living room and tempt her with cartoon.
-Spread the Glad Forceflex bags on the floor next to a Power outlet.
-Plug in the 'Gun'.
-Force the paper cape through Subject's head.
-Place all paraphernalia within handy distance.
-Shove, pat, shake the Subject's head until positioned correctly.
-Place the longest trimmer blade on the 'Gun'.
-Switch on the gun.
-Say a prayer.
Directions:
1.Start from somewhere, while the subject yells about 'the neck, the neck'.
2.Begin again at the neck and work your way up towards the crown.
3.Repeat step 3 from left to right in parallel lines while subject has second thoughts.
4.Ask subject to hold his ears folded while tackling the temples.
5.If subject says that he never has to do that in SuperCuts, elucidate on the advantages of having two functioning ears - He is your first guinea pig afterall.
6.Stop and see how far you have progressed.
7.Pick another shorter trimmer blade if the hair is too long.
8.Repeat steps 1 to 5.
9.Now comes the difficult part - the crown and hair over the forehead- I admit, as a novice, it had me stumped.
10.Staring uncomprehendingly at it is not productive, so fix the Kozhi Kondai.
11.Take scissors and comb; part 1/2 inch sections with comb and cut sparingly.
12.If subjects says he will go to the professionals at this point, explain to him your superior wisdom from having hair 20" longer than his.
13.If necessary, use one of the restraining hair-clips on his mouth.
14.Finish off with trimming the neck hairline in a straight line.
15.Simmer subject's anger with thoughts of saving money by home hair-cuts.
16.Garnish with subdued giggles.
17.Sprinkle flattery generously.
Time taken: 20 minutes
Serves: 2 insane adults and all the blog readers.
Disclaimer: Do not try this at home.
PS: If you meet the subject, praise the cut. Remember, no bad comments, o.k.? I like my pretty little neck, thank you very much.
Apr 24, 2010
A full circle...where cops become buddies.
Ah, the excitement of landing an interview, the frantic preparation on the previous night, the smart turn-out in ironed cothes....and the cops pulling you over?!
Well, that's what happened to me. There I was, just minding my own business, checking the watch, crossing my fingers, reciting the usual answers and driving under the speed limit - only the cops decided to do a 'routine' check of the inspection stickers on the D-day.
And whaddya know? It's expired by 3 days, two of which were weekends. Thus I slipped from fluttering excitement to free-falling fear, in a moment.
They had a trailer with all the knobs and tubes, which could perform the inspection on the spot. I was to drive away with a new inspection sticker and newer violations ticket. Lucky me!
So, I pull-over and hand-over my papers (not the resume). And whaddya know again? My registration is also expired by three days, two of which were weekends too. No Instant Inspection for me.
Hmprf, frantic call to husband with the cryptic: 'They are going to tow the car' results in 'Just nod, shut up, and leave'. A wise advise.
So, I walk back to the cops with my keys and while handing them over, I get attacked by a fit of sentimentality and the tears fall unerringly. As I surreptitiously sniff, one of the cops looks at me and pulls a tissue box from his cruiser.
Armed with the tissues and false bravado, I go "I have been driving for three years now, but never had a parking or speeding ticket. This is the first time you pull me over, and you take away my car? How is that fair?"
My dear husband, from the phone yells, "Shut up, stop talking.. please stop talking now..."
But I go on relentlessly, "I have an interview today, I don't know if I can still perform well"
By now there are four cops around me, listening to me blithering and blabbering. And they take turns saying things like
'Forget we ever stopped you',
'Go do well at the interview, you surely need the job',
'Times are bad, don't let the opportunity go by'. All of them nodding and sympathetically smiling.
All that coxing and no smile from me, so, the last one says "I could take out to dinner tonight, since I was the one who pulled you over".
And my gracious reply? I came up with: "I don't think my husband would agree..."
And they all laugh... I had implied that though I'm interested, my husband will not agree. The joke dawned on me finally, and I crack a tearful smile. The phone is still on, by the way.
They hand over the tickets, call a cab for me, shove me into it cop-style, tell the cabbie not to let me out till I cease crying and bang on the car-roof.
Then, all the four wave at me as I look at them from the back-seat window and wave back. A picturesque Hallmark moment.
As the car rolls forward, my husband says, "Are you sure they were cops?"
I didn't get that job. But almost a year to the date, I have come a full circle and I'm glad to say that I have landed the job at the same office.
Well, that's what happened to me. There I was, just minding my own business, checking the watch, crossing my fingers, reciting the usual answers and driving under the speed limit - only the cops decided to do a 'routine' check of the inspection stickers on the D-day.
And whaddya know? It's expired by 3 days, two of which were weekends. Thus I slipped from fluttering excitement to free-falling fear, in a moment.
They had a trailer with all the knobs and tubes, which could perform the inspection on the spot. I was to drive away with a new inspection sticker and newer violations ticket. Lucky me!
So, I pull-over and hand-over my papers (not the resume). And whaddya know again? My registration is also expired by three days, two of which were weekends too. No Instant Inspection for me.
Hmprf, frantic call to husband with the cryptic: 'They are going to tow the car' results in 'Just nod, shut up, and leave'. A wise advise.
So, I walk back to the cops with my keys and while handing them over, I get attacked by a fit of sentimentality and the tears fall unerringly. As I surreptitiously sniff, one of the cops looks at me and pulls a tissue box from his cruiser.
Armed with the tissues and false bravado, I go "I have been driving for three years now, but never had a parking or speeding ticket. This is the first time you pull me over, and you take away my car? How is that fair?"
My dear husband, from the phone yells, "Shut up, stop talking.. please stop talking now..."
But I go on relentlessly, "I have an interview today, I don't know if I can still perform well"
By now there are four cops around me, listening to me blithering and blabbering. And they take turns saying things like
'Forget we ever stopped you',
'Go do well at the interview, you surely need the job',
'Times are bad, don't let the opportunity go by'. All of them nodding and sympathetically smiling.
All that coxing and no smile from me, so, the last one says "I could take out to dinner tonight, since I was the one who pulled you over".
And my gracious reply? I came up with: "I don't think my husband would agree..."
And they all laugh... I had implied that though I'm interested, my husband will not agree. The joke dawned on me finally, and I crack a tearful smile. The phone is still on, by the way.
They hand over the tickets, call a cab for me, shove me into it cop-style, tell the cabbie not to let me out till I cease crying and bang on the car-roof.
Then, all the four wave at me as I look at them from the back-seat window and wave back. A picturesque Hallmark moment.
As the car rolls forward, my husband says, "Are you sure they were cops?"
I didn't get that job. But almost a year to the date, I have come a full circle and I'm glad to say that I have landed the job at the same office.
Apr 16, 2010
Duck, Duck , Whoosh....
I think my parents forgot to teach me how to run.What with my dad more occupied with smarts and independence; my mom with grace and cooking, they left out sports. I probably shouldn't blame my parents for my disregard of sports. I place it explicitly on my genes. Some have built-in characteristics in their genes- gorgeous hair, creamy skin, slender build etc. I think the sports aspect is also handed down, not learnt.
It's not just the walking and running, it also the other stuff- A friend of mine can throw a basketball anytime and hit the basket unfailingly. My husband can catch anything thrown at him, however haphazardly I might throw it -remote, wallet, ladle...
Me? I duck. I see a Frisbee whizzing at me and my instinct is to duck. I see a ball, duck. Keys? Duck.
You see, it's a game of 'Duck, Duck, Whoosshh' with me, wherein the 'whoosh' is the sound that the thrown object makes, as it flies over my head as I duck.
In that sense, I have excellent instincts- I can zig-zag and hop around in a tennis court for quite a while without actually hitting anything. I recently played a Wii game where kids kick soccer-balls at you. I was scoring pretty well.
Until my friend explained the rules- I was to hit the balls with my head, whereas I was trying to evade them! But I still managed to score well. Go figure! Poor Aim, my she says. Duck Luck, is what it is.
I went to skiing. Seemed pretty easy when I youtubed some videos prior to the trip.
A-ha! The shoes weigh a ton. The thin plastic planks that you strap on, are pretty difficult to maneuver. And if you think aligning those li'l twig-like-skis in a 'V' will help you stop at will, then double A-ah! So after falling more than two dozen times in thirty minutes, I decided to stop. PS: The cold masks the pain :(
I tired roller blades next. I could barely stand straight. Or stay on my feet, for that matter. But I did try, you see. It's just that I couldn't stop. So I would sail in a straight line and run smack into the surrounding grill to stop myself - much like Errol the owl flying into the glass panes of the Weasleys' window. This time, I gave up after 10 minutes as there was no cold to mask my pain. Thud = Ouch, instantly.
Cycling piqued my interest next- only to find out that my sense of balance is wanting. I couldn't decide which was shaking more- my hands or my knees. And the cycle never headed where I aimed it.
I think I should stick to racing my husband for the remote control, dashing after my daughter to stop disasters, and chasing friends with a rolled magazine to teach a lesson. Now these are my kind of sports.
But give me a book, a shade, and a lemonade, any day.
It's not just the walking and running, it also the other stuff- A friend of mine can throw a basketball anytime and hit the basket unfailingly. My husband can catch anything thrown at him, however haphazardly I might throw it -remote, wallet, ladle...
Me? I duck. I see a Frisbee whizzing at me and my instinct is to duck. I see a ball, duck. Keys? Duck.
You see, it's a game of 'Duck, Duck, Whoosshh' with me, wherein the 'whoosh' is the sound that the thrown object makes, as it flies over my head as I duck.
In that sense, I have excellent instincts- I can zig-zag and hop around in a tennis court for quite a while without actually hitting anything. I recently played a Wii game where kids kick soccer-balls at you. I was scoring pretty well.
Until my friend explained the rules- I was to hit the balls with my head, whereas I was trying to evade them! But I still managed to score well. Go figure! Poor Aim, my she says. Duck Luck, is what it is.
I went to skiing. Seemed pretty easy when I youtubed some videos prior to the trip.
A-ha! The shoes weigh a ton. The thin plastic planks that you strap on, are pretty difficult to maneuver. And if you think aligning those li'l twig-like-skis in a 'V' will help you stop at will, then double A-ah! So after falling more than two dozen times in thirty minutes, I decided to stop. PS: The cold masks the pain :(
I tired roller blades next. I could barely stand straight. Or stay on my feet, for that matter. But I did try, you see. It's just that I couldn't stop. So I would sail in a straight line and run smack into the surrounding grill to stop myself - much like Errol the owl flying into the glass panes of the Weasleys' window. This time, I gave up after 10 minutes as there was no cold to mask my pain. Thud = Ouch, instantly.
Cycling piqued my interest next- only to find out that my sense of balance is wanting. I couldn't decide which was shaking more- my hands or my knees. And the cycle never headed where I aimed it.
I think I should stick to racing my husband for the remote control, dashing after my daughter to stop disasters, and chasing friends with a rolled magazine to teach a lesson. Now these are my kind of sports.
But give me a book, a shade, and a lemonade, any day.
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