Category Archives: ME ME ME

Of dreams and thoughts

The dreams are back, but with a variation. Usually, I would go unprepared for an exam, usually Tamil exam, in high school, and naked, to boot.  Or I would be lost in a colossal multi-storeyed white empty building with large stairs and run up and down these stairs in abject panic.  These days, I am in a large college campus, trying to find the classroom, and being completely unprepared for college.  Half the time I don’t even know which course I have taken, or if I do know which course I need to take, I have no clue what is going on.  There is no panic, but a dull sense of hopelessness.  My brain is a garbage dump, and really stinks once the lid of consciousness is opened in slumber.  My daughter gets weird dreams too, but my better half says that he does not remember any of his dreams and feels no aftertaste when he awakes.  I, on the other hand, need a couple of extra strong doses of coffee to break free of the gloom that lingers after I have awoken from my dreams.

Something else interesting happened.  Yesterday, a friend and I were discussing dreams.  This friend is a talker, and usually when we are conversing, it is one way, I listen more than talk, partly because I don’t like talking too much, and partly because this person leaves no breathing time for response.  This person notwithstanding, in general, contrary to my image from this very verbose blog, I am not a big talker.  As I told this friend about my consistent dreams of being unprepared (for exams/for class) , I was told “you have no thoughts in your mind…you never think of anything, hence the singular dream”.  The tone was not indicative of “you are thought-free, you enlightened soul”, rather, “you are stupid and empty upstairs”.  I know it because more than once I have been told by this person that I have no interests in anything (e.g. I don’t like watching movies, the only movies I watch are with family – both my better-half and kid like to watch movies, as “family time” rather than any personal interest in watching them), no passion (because I don’t passionately argue about or discuss anything), uncultured (because I don’t listen to music when I am working, and I am usually working most of the time), am a hamster-in-wheel (because I am doing something all the time without staring at the ceiling and thinking thoughts) and am, in effect, intellectually dead-as-a-dodo.  These have been told to me at different times, under different circumstances, and so I believe that “you don’t have thoughts in your head” is an extension of me being of vegetative state. For a moment, I flared up in my mind as “just because I don’t overthink everything and verbally vomit every thought that crosses my head, I am not a doorknob”, but figured that such a response would only lead to me having to listen to more arguments, and thus moved on.

The thought I had then was this:  It is so easy for the world to consider silent people/introverts as being stupid.  Being an introvert myself, let me tell you – we are not stupid.  In fact, we have more thoughts in our heads because we are not wasting time communicating it to others.  We don’t communicate our thoughts because we don’t need inputs from anyone else.  My thoughts usually range from banal stuff such as “where can I get a neem sapling to plant on my backyard” to philosophical/spiritual musings on God, mindfulness, hope, faith and death, none of which needs a recipient.   We are also sensitive people, and can gauge by the talker’s tone, what he/she really means beyond the words uttered, because WE LISTEN and not just hear.

A quote I subscribe to is “It is better to stay silent and let others think you are a fool, than open your mouth and waste time talking” !

 

 

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Exhaustion

Between completing a difficult document, trying to get a bank eff-up fixed, my friend’s application work done (HG:  I saw your comment after I completed the job and cursed myself for not thinking of it), grocery shopping, domestic chores (the maid bunked), extra workout (just because…), playing badminton with the kid because all her friends went AWOL today, playing a bit of football in the stadium with the kid and some new found football enthusiasts (young boys, who, I was pleased to note, called my kid “Akka” (big sister)), and a very hot day, I am pooped.  The night is young, but I don’t think I will be able to see it grow old !

Happy weekend folks.

Weighty matters

This may sound like body shamming, it isn’t.  Or at least I hope it isn’t.  It is a bit on the obsessive side, but I am sure anyone who has been through this would be able to relate.

When I was in grad school, the roommate in my second year was a thirty year old woman (I was around 24 – funny how six years seemed to matter so much then).  She was a small built woman, prone to putting on weight and so she was obsessed about fitness.  She went to the gym everyday and worked out for an hour, and blizzard or not, ran for an hour through the university township. She drank coffee with skim milk and shrank away from food with the comment “if I as much as see that goddamn pizza, I would put on a pound”. On the other end of the rainbow, I was addressed (uncharitably) as 2D-gobblefunkist by the brat Indian grads (largely boys) because I was stick thin.  I thought I was curvy, but was made to believe that the curves were in my imagination.  So in order to pad myself, I drank full-fat milk, had egg nog for breakfast every day and, although I hated cheese at that time, had subway sandwiches every alternate day with extra cheese, and macadamia nut cookies on the side.  The only allowance I gave myself was that I went to the gym every afternoon, to swim, because I was a fish in another birth and nothing makes me happier than water around me.

None of my padding efforts had any effect. At that time.  As I near 45, I can see the eggnog, vitamin D milk and cheezy sub in various parts of my body.  And they are very sociable foodgroups because they welcome other current foodgroups and give them space to live forever.  It is a wonder the body has energy to function at all, considering that all the calories I ingest choose to stay rather than burn.

This is fine. I don’t have problems with the natural fall of metabolism that comes with age, and resultant padding – I don’t want to body sham.  But where I worry is that the padding is not all on the outside and there are protective stuffed envelopes around my essential organs, making the latter groan.  I am particularly worried because the metabolic syndrome spectrum of diseases runs in my family (in addition to psychiatric disorders, osteoporosis and name-it-you-got-it).  When I visited my gyn recently for ovarian pains, she claimed that the only ways to deal with it, short of ripping my innards and throwing the non-essential-anymore organs away, are to pop in industrial strength acetaminophens when they act up, and make sure I get enough exercise to prevent visceral fat that can add to the strain on my reproductive organs.

I resumed the gym nearly three weeks ago, in addition to reduction of portion sizes.  I don’t overworkout because I am a fusspot of sorts.  20 minutes of interval training and 10 minutes of strength.  I stayed off the scale until last week, and as I had expected, the numbers on the scale were displeasing.  Today, a week later, I checked again.  What do you know.  A full one kilo (~2 lbs) UP.  Yes, UP.  I know a lovely person told me that it’s better to go by the tape than by the scale, and I remembered it as I stood on the scale, but I did feel like screaming.

Perhaps it is muscle weight gain.  Perhaps not.  From now on, no more scales for me, for sure.  I am doing this for my internal organs, and if 20 mins of interval training doesn’t do anything to them, so be it.  At least I would be using my gym membership.

Movie madness

I am on a roll with the matching word beginnings, or what.

I went to the movie “Lion” with the kid at our local open air theatre.  And cried buckets.  Buckets.  I was so embarrassed because my friend was sitting right next to me, and I couldn’t stop sobbing.  And then when I tried to stop myself from crying, my throat got all caught up, and started paining, the strain of trying not to cry gave me a headache, and not letting the water pour out of the eyes made my eyes smart.  Oh bother.

I am a complete nut case.  I can’t watch a single movie with a single sentimental scene without sobbing like a child.  In fact, I can’t even stop myself from getting all teary at the National Anthem that is sung now before all movies.  I usually start singing along with the aired version, but by the time I reach Jaya Hey, I am a mess.

Tsk Tsk.

Am I back or not?

I bucked under and let the darn WP guzzle up a lot of space on my computer.  I am not happy about it, but considering that my business site runs on wp too, I didn’t seem to have too much choice.   Insert choice expletives here.

I am still no completely ok health wise.  The flu is gone, but I have an irritated chest that makes me want to cough at the intention of talking.  And the cough takes on barfing proportions soon enough.  But that’s ok. Some amount of physical discomfort keeps me grounded in the present.

While the rest of the state has been reeling under heat waves in the recent past, our coastal city has been relatively milder (the watchword being “relatively”).  But that is set to change.  I hear that we will cross the 40-mark starting tomorrow.  Bracing myself for the heat.

My work is catching up after a fairly relaxed fortnight.  So, next week maybe a bit on the busy side.

And life goes on….

Song of the day – 3

Rob tagged me to this:

The rules are to post the lyrics of a favorite song five days in a row, explain what they mean to you (if you like) and add the video if available. 

I am also supposed to nominate two bloggers to carry on the meme, but I would like to leave that open.  Anyone who blogs, reads this post and wants to take it on, please do, and link back to this post so we can all read about your choices of songs. You may also leave your choice in the comment section here.

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I have an excess of left feet.  I am a klutz of the highest order. I walk like a duck, run like a wobbly spring, and am inelegant to the core.  Any physical movement I make is always associated  with an accident –  I knock something down, hit someone, or in general look like an octopus on LSD. I am also extremely self-conscious.  And tightly wound.  I have always had an intense yearning to dance, but the combination of multiple left legs and self-consciousness has consistently stopped me from shaking a leg.

Twenty years ago, I once visited a dance pub in Nashville and was amazed at how people danced with complete abandon and the joy on their faces.  I wanted that.

Soon enough,  there was a Diwali party for the desi students in the US, and a “free-for-all dance session” at the end of the program with Bollywood numbers being pelted on the stereo.  For once, I forgot my inelegance and self-consciousness and shook more than a few legs, only to soon find a friend (?!) mocking me and imitating the way I danced, to a bunch that was roaring with laughter (15-25 year old boys can be jerks).  My heart broke and that was the last time I danced in public.

In private, when I know no one’s watching, I sometimes pretend that I am a diva and attempt to dance. I am sure I look ridiculous, but I really enjoy it.  I usually dance to the following song by Madonna.  One of my dreams is to take the dance floor and dance like no one’s watching, along with others who won’t mock at me. Perhaps Madonna wrote this for me “I’m tired of dancing here all by myself, Tonight I want to dance with someone else”

And you can dance
For inspiration
Come on
I’m waiting

Get into the groove
Boy you’ve got to prove
Your love to me, yeah
Get up on your feet, yeah
Step to the beat
Boy what will it be

Music can be such a revelation
Dancing around you feel the sweet sensation
We might be lovers if the rhythm’s right
I hope this feeling never ends tonight

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free
At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see
I’m tired of dancing here all by myself
Tonight I want to dance with someone else

Get into the groove
Boy you’ve got to prove
Your love to me, yeah
Get up on your feet, yeah
Step to the beat
Boy what will it be

Gonna get to know you in a special way
This doesn’t happen to me every day
Don’t try to hide it love wears no disguise
I see the fire burning in your eyes

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free
At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see
I’m tired of dancing here all by myself
Tonight I want to dance with someone else

Get into the groove
Boy you’ve got to prove
Your love to me, yeah
Get up on your feet, yeah
Step to the beat
Boy what will it be

Live out your fantasy here with me
Just let the music set you free
Touch my body, and move in time
Now I now you’re mine

You’ve got to

Get into the groove
Boy you’ve got to prove
Your love to me, yeah
Get up on your feet, yeah
Step to the beat
Boy what will it be

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free
At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see
I’m tired of dancing here all by myself
Tonight I want to dance with someone else

Live out your fantasy here with me
Just let the music set you free
Touch my body, and move in time
Now I now you’re mine

Now I know you’re mine, now I know you’re mine
Now I know you’re mine, now I know you’re mine
You’ve got to

Get into the groove
Boy you’ve got to prove
Your love to me, yeah
Get up on your feet, yeah
Step to the beat
Boy what will it be

Flow of thoughts

I have made the decision to stay where we are now and let my father take care of my inheritance as long as he lives.  I am not ecstatic about the decision because I can already anticipate the ways in which it will turn back and bite me.  I am also being incredibly selfish in this decision, I know.  But sometimes one must wear her own oxygen mask before helping others with theirs.

When my grandfather was in coma and on life support a couple of decades ago and it was left to me to make the decision to take him off life support or keep him on it indefinitely, I was relieved after I decided to let him go, despite the fact that my decision resulted in the death of another human being .  I feel no such relief with this decision because I know the losses that come from it – the fact that my septuagenarian father would live alone in that big house (with hired help of course), that my own family would miss out living in a large independent house.  But my gut says that this is what would be good, not only in the homeostatis that it offers, but in practical terms – easier and shorter commute,  better social life, my work, comfortable distance from extended family and independence to my father for as long as he can take care of himself.   Maybe I am being short sighted, but the future always takes care of itself when it becomes the present, and so making uncomfortable changes now for a possibly comfortable future is not my comfort zone. Perhaps I am wrong.  Only time will tell.

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We have tickets to go to my husband’s home town for the weekend.  He is not keen on going, but I want to go, because I have withdrawals about visiting that temple – it has been a year since I visited it – the temple is my sanctuary. Besides, I need a break it seems, both from work-work and from my domestic responsibilities.  And some me-time in the temple to up my meditation schedule and organise my thoughts and emotions.  The kid is also looking forward to the break, so we may leave the chap behind and go.

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My lower stomach is still bunched up and hurts.  I wonder if it is the heat (Lord, it’s hot), or my stress levels, or something more physical – I had adenomysosis a few years ago, but I don’t have all the symptoms now…just the stomach discomfort.  Perhaps I should see my gyn when I return.

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