Sharing my world

Sharing my world a little late.

My My, is it Thursday night already?

Complete this sentence: I want to learn more about …

I am a very curious person and I am so glad I am around in the digital age of information.  Google is my best friend.  I am almost always googling up something or the other.

But if it has to be one thing specific, I want to learn more about my brain and how it functions. I wish I had been a brain scientist.

On a vacation what you would require in any place that you sleep?

A clean floor, with a clean pillow.

A clean toilet with running water.

No mosquitoes.

What is your greatest extravagance?

Food.  I suspect.  I spend most on food.  I am stingy otherwise.  I would think gazillion times before spending money on anything that is not food.

What inspired you this past week? Feel free to use a quote, a photo, a story, or even a combination. 

Not really an inspiration, but this will be my world for the next ten days.  Navrathri starts today, and I was debating if I should keep a golu (dolls display) or not, given the space crunch at home after the furniture revamp.  But I decided to have at least a small golu because I do not want to be the one to end a tradition in my line of the genetic propagation.  I used to be creative and do a lot of interesting stuff for golu when my kid was younger, but the past couple of years I have minimized it.  I have this intense craving for simple living these days, and my golu reflects my need.

My golu:

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I may have posted about the following picture last year.  This is a silver Saraswathi (Goddess of learning) that belonged to my great-great-grandmother, and passed on to me.      So that goes on the altar every Navrathri.

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So, happy Navrathri to those that celebrate.

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Random

– I am ashamed that I no longer can read a book for longer than half an hour before I doze off. Any time of the day. Any book. A few years ago I read Ana Karenina in single eight-hour sitting. Age is a curse.

– Reading and loving Eco’s Name of the Rose. Tried reading it a couple of years ago but couldn’t go beyond 2 pages. Age is a blessing.

– I wish internet would stop associating hot flashes to night. Misleading.

– Hungry all the time. Eating disorder? PMS? Diabetes?

– My dawn dreams are going to kill me soon.

Had more fleeting thoughts all day, which have fleeted by. Perhaps they would come back to me after I hit publish.

Have a better weekend than my hormone addled one, folks.

Face off

My guest of the past month is dresser-supreme.  She would have made a fantastic model, had she chosen to be one. She dresses for herself, and not (as much) for others.  She wakes up picture perfect – not a hair out of place, and as soon as she brushes her teeth, she brushes her long, silky, streaked hair until it shines with blinding brilliance and applies nice smelling stuff on her face so that she emerges from the bathroom like a cat walker. She accessorises her nightwear, and when she has to step out of the house to throw out the trash, she looks like she is meeting the American president for state dinner.  I once saw her apply makeup and wondered how she remembered what goes after what and in which part of her face.

The line between passion and obsession depends on the perceiver’s judgemental opinion.  Lest you judge her as being shallow, she has a high flying job, is a dedicated parent to two boys, keeps her home spotless, volunteers for a bunch of things, is a social diva, a perfectionist in everything she touches, a terrific cook and would be a successful dancer if she chose to resume her practice.

But the point of this post is not her, at least not entirely.

When I awoke this morning – you must know that I awaken like I have just survived an earthquake, and remain that way until a few gallons of coffee have been assimilated – and looked into the mirror (mirror mirror on the wall, and the mirror cracked), my face looked like it was dug out of a cemetery. Finding a bottle of calamine lotion that my neighbour loaned me to treat the wasp sting of last weekend, I figured that while I can’t look like my ex-guest if I had a gun pointed to my head, I could attempt to at least look presentable and fresh with a potentially harmless emulsion of zinc oxide and ferric oxide, which even grandmother used in decades past.

Thus, I transferred a drop of the pink goo into my palm, and as I applied it over my face, it miraculously expanded to fill the large surface area of the contoured surface.  The mirror was not very cooperative and instead of a bright, glowing face that I expected to see, I saw a dead-as-before, but oily-to-boot-now, face staring back. And then the party began.  In a surge of an internally generated thermal wave that put my monthly infernal heat flashes to shame, perspiration poured from the recently anointed face, and by the time I mopped the flooding, the skin burned like a stake during inquisition, and I dumped my face into a bucket of cold water to stop it from melting off my bones.

There is truth in the saying “Just be yourself”.  Don’t know why I forget it now and then.  Must be PMS. Everything is PMS.

Exam stress

The troubled kid comes for a hug.  While giving her a bear hug, she tells me that she is stressed because of her SST exam tomorrow and her utter under-preparedness.

Mom:  Kanna, don’t worry, this is nothing to be stressed about.

Kid (looking up with eyes full of gratitude and love): really amma? Why do you say that?

Mom: Because this is only quarterly exams in ninth class.  You still have half yearly and finals in ninth, and then you have tenth, eleventh, twelfth…college…

Kid:  Were you dropped on your head when you were a baby?

Walks off in a huff.

Comments

A couple of bloggers I follow have been mentioning the loss of comments to their posts, and the accidental spam-foldering of legit comments.  I checked my spam folder to see if I was losing comments to it, and found the following:

Someone whose handle is “single” says the following in response to my post reproducing Rabindranath Tagore’s poetry on Independence day.

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A certain la2enjoy finds my post on a Hindu festival without power so:

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A post describing an embarrassing conversation about uterus with a friend garnered the following support from SpencerTup

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“customarily i personally don’t like voiceover, towards the it’s around the shopping in, Cronenberg details along the Regency or resort in san francisco, location we each mention prior to the western states premi inside the higher toronto world presentation pageant. “it something’s no longer working correct, Like you might need a epic saga to spell out film production company. But web page,in this situation, The work of fiction will be inside these movie,

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“to stay wide-spread, Cronenberg counter tops, “you need to be specific. You sincerely hope are going to be abstractions exactly who speak out loud off those things that you’ve done, providing the joy of eastern side assures, he tells, “was not much diverse from entering the Peking ie for many M Butterfly. repeatedly, we’re managing kind of funnily hermetically covered subculture that possesses his own simple rules and so judgement standards. and then for me, you will want to understand, gain access to Midwestern the united states for a medical history of physical violence was as simple as creating this is what ruskies subculture. it’s just that for you to men and women, the first is hidden and another is exotic. it’s the same much akin to perception,

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Say what?

My refurbished living room impressed acupuntura curitiba batel thusly

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Google translates the above to

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A1 positive.  Will that help?

Sharing my world

 

I know I am going to sound like a pretentious prick as I answer Cee’s questions this week, but these are my honest answers now.  They were very different a few years ago, and may likely change in future.

Would you want $200,000 right now or $250,000 in a year? It’s safe to assume all money is tax free.

This is what I mean by “pretentious prick”, and I swear this is how I feel now.  I don’t want this money because I obviously didn’t work for it.  I don’t want anything I didn’t work for because it would not be useful and (to each her own quirk) may even lead to catastrophes.  I wish I could work in order to earn the $250000 per year, but that would involve the sacrifice of something – my leisure, family time, hobbies…so perhaps not.

Another reason I don’t want that quantum of money is that I would not know what to do with it.  I am not a willing spender, and hoarding it would make me a bit irritated as well because of the spiral into materialism.

Is it more important to love or be loved?

I think to love is the only real thing, no? To be loved is not in my control.

List things that represent abundance to you.

Contentment

Inspiration:  Don William’s “I believe in you” is an inspirational song that I listened to again last week when I learned he passed away.  Rest in Peace DW.