Inertia hell

I have so much work backlog, but the brain does not cooperate.  After the creative high of the past two months, I simply can’t get down to mundane tasks of English correction.  It will take some time before I resume deriving pleasure from cleaning a messy document.  I have a bit of a creative work to do = to write an article on something related to technology and society, for a client, but after all the pure-science of the past weeks, it seems very difficult to get back into the social sciences.

Did Valentine day just pass by without much ado?  Or did the high-drama in my home state obviate the rest of the world from the general picture in our nook of it?

I don’t understand how people can stay in social media all the time.  I spent a couple of days in social media to follow the political  shebang in my state, and by yesterday, I was edgy, restless and nauseated.  This never happens when I am “working” on my laptop continuously for hours on end – I don’t feel like saying “one more look at a glowing screen, and I am going to murder someone”.  Is it just me, or does social media have that effect on more people?  Somewhere along the way, I kept snapping at everyone, including a friend on social media who said something fairly harmless, and I realised I need to get away from all the (mis)information overload.  Easier said than done.  I kept going back and forth until night.  Pretty sickening.

My kid has an orthodontist appointment today because the dentist who fixed her broken tooth last week feels that she may have a bit of an overbite that would need correction.  I have a bad overbite myself, and when I was a youngster, I felt that my upper row of teeth were too far forward and I wanted to wear braces .  Braces were (and are) expensive affairs, and my parents believed (as most Indians, I suspect, considering the number of people with severe overbite in this country) that a protruding upper mandible is not that big a deal, in the large scheme of things. My art teacher in school had a terrible overbite that she looked pure evil (I thought in all my judgemental naivety of a teenager) and I was so sure I was going to become like her; it freaked me.  I was so conscious of it that for many many years of my life, I never laughed out aloud or if I had to, I’d shield my mouth with my palms so that no one saw the monstrosity of my upper row. When my now-in-laws met me for the first time and then spoke to my now-husband about the “girl they had seen”, they had, I believe, mentioned that “she seems nice, although her teeth are a little in front”.  Thank God, the guy told me this long long after he convinced me that I am very pretty when I laugh out aloud and that I should do it more often.   The moral of this long story is this: although my daughter is not too particular about getting her overbite fixed, I am.  I don’t want her to stop herself from laughing out aloud for any reason at all, ever in her life.

I think I have postponed the task of writing up that social science essay for long enough.  To the grind…

 

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