Category Archives: Boring

Fitness, food and fancy fluff

The “fancy fluff” was just for the F.  I doubt if there would be anything fancy or fluffy in this post.

I resumed gymming after a two-week break.  I hope I don’t get any further breaks in the near future, partly for the sake of my fitness, but mostly because I don’t want the gym membership to expire unused.   My body hurts, but I don’t think that is because of the gym.  My joints have been hurting for a while now, especially when rising from a sedentary position, and I refuse to google and get hypochondriacal about it.  The body will fix it itself if I just let it be.

But, before I can gloat with a holier-than-thee chin up, I more than negated the gym session with home-made cinnamony apple cobbler with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. I refuse to get sucked into the vortex of guilt because it is the left-out eighth deadly sin to feel bad about home-made cinnamony apple cobbler with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.  For all my hatred of cooking, I can sometimes excel.  The watchword there is “sometimes”.

Our family (and I am its leader) is big into food, which, is unfortunate, because I am the main food provider and I am usually a bad cook.  All three of us in the house need something to eat every two hours or we are rabid.  We eat small portions at every sitting, but eat often.  For instance, it is nearly 5 pm, and our meal plan today has been this (the husband is at home today and the kid has study leave for her quarterly exams).

  1. Half a tumbler of coffee at 7 am for the adults
  2. Half a tumbler of coffee + 1 Marie biscuit each at 8 am for the adults. One tumbler of Bournvita for the just-awoken kid.
  3. Half a cup of rice each with buttermilk kozambu and beans paruppusuli at 9 am. We have switched to eating rice for breakfast because it seems a pain to cook three meals a day.  And no, we are not cereal/oats/toast people.
  4. A three-course rice meal for lunch comprising one cup of rice each (I often replace rice with cream of wheat – samba godhumai ravai, for myself), with buttermilk kozambu, beans paruppusuli, pepper rasam, and curd at 12.30 pm.
  5. Coffee for dad and daughter and tea for me at 2.30 pm
  6. A small piece (by small, I mean, three table spoons) of apple cobbler each, topped with a small (one table spoon) scoop of icecream at 4.30 pm.  This is not a regular feature.  It could be a sandwich each, one dosa, each, chaat, fruit salad etc.
  7. Plan: Bean burrito (with home-made whole wheat tortillas) for supper. One each for the adults and two for the kid.  Probably with mixed vegetable soup and store-bought nachos.
  8. Plan: Either juice or milk and a small piece of chocolate each.

The intricate details may vary, but these eight meals are fairly regular.  There was a brief time when I decided that I was eating too much.  So, I switched to the three-solid meals plan, and none of us was very happy with it because it gave us migraines and an obsession with food.  I notice that people around me do not eat as many meals.  I have also noticed that they eat large portion sizes at the limited number of meals they eat.  We, on the other hand, never feel “full” after any sitting.

I often wonder which is better – eating small meals throughout the day (I agree it is a pain to decide the various meals and make them), or eating two or three large meals.  I then lie down and the feeling goes away.

I attempted meditation today, but ended up either dozing off or thinking about “Name of the Rose” that we had watched last night.  But that’s ok, one can’t force-meditate.  What matters is that I sat in one place for 15 minutes with the intention to meditate.

I just yawned.  Ideally no one should post a piece that makes the writer yawn but I suspect I will.  If I just made you yawn as well, you’re welcome. I just made you take in more oxygen into your lungs than you have been in the past two minutes.

So long.


Thinking out aloud

This will probably be boring, but I need to see things in writing to be able to think better.

I am a freelance documentation/content development person/specialist/whatchamacallit.  My main professional activity (in terms of the quantum of payment involved) is writing scientific/engineering proposals for an American client for funding agencies. My other jobs are language editing for local clients (mostly students), occasional documentation for a hospital/cardiologist and, in the past two years, writing up tech-society related articles for a client for the newsletter/company blog/Huffpost entry.  The payment for the last one is decent, the editing work pays dismally, but I do it because I like it, and it is my way of helping students, and the cardiologist thing I have almost phased out because it is very haphazard, does not pay well, and I don’t enjoy it anymore.

My current dilemma is this.  The tech/soc article job had been interesting for two years, and paid decently so I stuck to it.  Lately, it has been getting to be boring.  There are two kinds of writing I enjoy – the formal, objective scientific writing, that is entirely cerebral – no emotions involved. I love that kind of writing. The second is informal writing such as this blog, which is spontaneous, sometimes creative, and cathartic, and is almost always emotional.  The tech/soc article is neither.  It is neither objective enough to be clinically disengaged from my emotions, nor is it informal (meaning, honest) enough to engage my emotions, convictions and beliefs.  Besides, the person in charge of coordinating the marketing efforts (one of which is getting this article into the appropriate domain at appropriate times) keeps pestering me for the article – that is actually unfair, the arrangement was for me to write up an article every week, these days I have to drag myself to write these, and every two or three weeks, I delay the process, in effect making him remind me now and then, which irritates me further because well….I feel nagged.

Every time he sends me a reminder (like a few minutes back) I want to quit because it seems very binding and is no longer fun.  But the money is welcome, and, well, we all don’t always do jobs we love all the time, do we?  I am not sure what to do.  Should I quit, should I not?

That was largely rhetoric, by the way.  But if you have any thoughts on this conundrum, I would love to hear it.

Friday already

The week whizzed past or what?

I want to write something brilliant and hilarious but have no idea what.  In a way it is good.  I believe that creativity is largely a function of mental disturbance – one way or the other.  The fact that I can’t be creative now means I must be tranquil.

Or I am taking the easy way out.

I have been on the road more than usual this week.  I have been driving the kid around to play dates (do you call them playdates when the kids are teenagers?) and gallivanting around the city, not letting the heat go waste, following up on hypochondriacal relatives, and so on.  The (imaginary) issues are finally resolved, I hope.

While driving, I have a compulsive need to listen to the radio.  The programmes drive me crazy, but I need them.  I wait for the elusive Ilayaraja song in the mixed bag of all kinds of crap.  Of late, even Ilayaraja songs irritate me, not as much for the music (Ilayaraja is brilliant with music arrangement except chorus voices) as the lyrics. Most songs are veiled references to sex (sometimes the veil is omitted altogether) or are so cheesy that I am afraid my eyes would get permanently set to rolling.  That set me thinking.  Am I getting old and the hormones are drying up so that I get put off by cheesy innuendos ? Not that I was very romantic to begin with, but these days, I just want to say “oh please, get it done with and move on”.  I wonder if the writers of these songs are horny, hormone crazed youngsters.

While bloghopping a couple of days ago, I landed on a blogsite which seemed to be a collection of poetry.  I am intrigued by poetry – I can’t write one, and am always curious about what makes poetry.  This one got on my nerves.  Is breaking up prose into random short lines all it takes to call it poetry?  The “poems” in the site went something like this (the content is my own here..just to give you an idea).

I wonder if life is

Very nice in childhood where

Children play in

The sun, but what happens

When you grow up

The entire blog was something like this.   Ah, but I am poetry-blind, so I probably don’t understand the nuances of it and am merely discounting what I don’t get as sour grapes.

The hottest 21 days of the Hindu lunar calendar (agni nakshatram – fire star) began yesterday.  In my coastal city, the first ten days aren’t usually very bad, but the heat would catch up towards the latter part of the period, and continue until forever.  Or what would seem like forever.  I can’t shake off the feeling that this year would be worse than the earlier years, because of the failure of last year’s monsoon. My greater nervousness is that once the scorching season is done, monsoon had better not disappoint us this year.  Is anyone else in this part of the world as worried as I am?

I told you I am not particularly sparkly and bright today.   I’ll stop here before you fall over your digital device in abject boredom.