Monthly Archives: December 2017

Happy New Year and all that, but…

why is there so much drag racing on the streets of my city as I type this?  It is an hour and a half to new year where I live, and my house is at least half a kilometer from the main road.   I hear bikes racing violently outside on the main road that it scares me.  I hope no one gets hurt. What’s with drag racing and new year’s eve? Some kind of death wish?

But that aside,



The end of another year

The fag end of the Western calendar year.  Time for resolutions.  Or not.  But, just to keep in with the spirit, I resolve something every year, and keep it up for two weeks before I slacken (only slacken, not give up).  So, ideally, I should give up on the idea of resolutions, but I figure, if I can be a better person, even if only for two weeks, why not?

My resolutions in the past few years have ranged from banal ones like no smileys in any form of written communication to profound ones such as more mindfulness in everything I do.  I start off following the resolutions rigidly but later relax in keeping with the times.  For instance, while I do avoid using smileys until now, I don’t beat myself on using them if the situation warrants.  While I no longer sit in one place and try to breathe my life through for a long period of time, I do let in my breath into my consciousness during my daily routine, which makes me a marginally better person.  I had, once earlier, resolved to stop overthinking everything.  I have, over time, realised that I need to overthink, sometimes in my profession, sometimes in my private life, in order to, as the cliche goes, hope for the best and prepare for the worst.  What I have learned over years of overthinking about overthinking is that if I overthink, I overthink; what’s more important is to not judge the addendum thoughts or let them define me and my actions.

With that preamble, I get to this year’s.  This one is supremely banal, but I need to do it because this is important for me to hold on to my original principles of living.  The resolution is this:  No more profanities/bad words/swear words, both in thoughts and voice. This is important because I have, lately, taken to using the eff word so much in my head that it has inadvertently slipped out on more than one occasion, what’s worse, at my kid.  First, the eff word is a gender slur, a violent one at that, and secondly, it makes me common.  Very common.

I make exception for one word – darn.  I have always used “darn” from childhood, much to the chagrin of the nuns who raised me in school, but the word has been my catharsis.  I’ll resort to “Darn” henceforth.  (You aren’t rolling around laughing at how seriously I take myself, are you?).


My week has been hectic.  I had a house guest for three days, a friend from my first post-grad.  My family had originally intended to go away, leaving the house to me and my friend, but plans changed, and I had a full house.  A whole bunch of other ex-classmates dropped in and out, we gallivanted all over our sprawling city, here by bus, there by metro, and a good many kilometers on the trusted feet, and while it was fun, the introvert in me was screaming for silence at the end of it.  It didn’t help that I had some government registration thing to take care off the day my friend left, which involved a whole day of running around from one office to another, and by yesterday I was less than a spent force.  It’s been a day since the dust has settled, but my mind is still screaming for solitude.  This, as I write, is the first instance in many days, that I have some semblance of it.


My kid turns 14 on New Year’s eve.  I am clutching every moment, because as each birthday passes, I am getting closer to the day she would fly away.  When I was a younger mom, I believed I would let the young wings take flight gracefully, now I am terrified.  Oh well, I have a few more years for that….que sera sera.

She has a party planned for her friends today.  I usually go overboard when she does – bake a cake, make thematic snacks and all that.  This year, I am just giving her some money and booting the bunch out of the house to go wherever and eat whatever, as long as they don’t bring back rotovirus.  One part of me is a little guilty, but looks like the kid finds this better, remember the sprouting wings that scare me?


I need help with being more organized.  But that can happen only if I stop wanting to do everything.  I can’t decide which is more important to me – being organized or doing everything I want to do….hmm.  Anyone else with this conundrum?


I believe I will write again before the year is out, but in case I can’t get to the system, Happy New Year people.


What a day.

[icky content warning] Given that the monthly blessing descended bright and early, on a day I was looking forward to be alone, but couldn’t be because of changes in plans that I can’t quite understand, and deciding that I had forgotten what labor pain was all about, attempted to recreate it to the accompaniment of mega-leak like an overflowing sewage in monsoon times, I had expected the day to go down the toilet.  But what do you know…destiny has other plans it seems.[end of icky content, maybe]

First of all, I need to have more faith in the fact that stuff happens for a reason.  Caught in the peak of PMS, I was frustrated yesterday about the last minute change of plans by the rest of the family, which negated the two day alone-time that I was looking forward to.  But late last night, I got a message that the national newspaper wanted to interview the kid today, as being one of the rarer species called female football player.  Had the family left as per plan, she would have missed this interview.  So, there….stuff happens for a reason.  Of course, this meant that I had to chauffeur the kid around an already busy day, but small inconveniences can be borne, especially considering that the reporter asked moms of soccer girls questions too !  I am famous. Maybe.

The second thing that picked up my life from the sewage and washed it clean was the Christmas lunch to a bunch of rowdy women, who once attended school together.  I cannot even attempt to reproduce the genre of conversations that happened, suffice to say, the oft-repeated words “balls”, “stick” and “wood” had nothing to do with anything innocent.  We were an incorrigible, corrupt group, but oh, what fun.  Yes, the vodka spiked orange juice is dancing a migraine in my head now, but hey….who cares.

Point 3: I officially quit one of my jobs.   I had written earlier about this job and about my dilemma on whether or not to quit – I had taken a month break, after which, I had resumed, but today I finally realised that all I am doing is flogging a horse that couldn’t be deader. I’ll miss the money, but no point doing this anymore.  I actually feel relieved.

I promised myself that I won’t grumble about my mountainous work backlog.  I won’t.

So there…




Oh, hell.

  1. PMS.
  2. Client sends SOS for urgent documentation just when I was planning to take a couple of days off work.  My resolution for the new year was to not use swear words (other than darn) anymore, but I have a few more days before that resolution would kick in.  Oh, hell.
  3. The home-alone time may not happen due to impending sudden changes in plans. Like I said, I love my family and all, but …
  4. PMS.
  5. Next deadline, as I see, involves writing a whole lot about coal energy.  I hate coal.  Coal is the reason we got into the environmental mess we are in now, followed of course by petroleum.  I hate writing about coal, but I need to.  I would feel like an enormous schmuck when I do.  Coal.  Bah.
  6. Ran some errands this morning, and decided to walk it everywhere (~12 km). Usually ok, but see points 1 and 4.  Back and stomach hurt. Breasts are going to fall off.  Water sloshing around my innards in spate.  Craving like a maniac for sweets.  Hungry all the time.  Oh, hell.
  7. Suddenly wish my friend wasn’t visiting.  With the family probably not going away, there would be an enormous space crunch – our house, unlike our minds, is small.  The kid would have to share our bed, since the guest would take her room.  It’ll be fine, we’ve done it before, but with period pains, I would prefer not being treated like a football by the in-house, bony, strong, teenage footballer.
  8. PMS.
  9. On the other hand, it WOULD be nice to have friend over, because when she called me yesterday, she said she was going to take over my kitchen.
  10. The kitchen, if she were to take over, needs cleaning. Oh hell.