Watch out, the world's behind you

It's the strangest thing. I was going to write about separating the essential from the inessential. And disconnecting. Then I read something which made me rethink and shape my ideas with more honesty and clarity.

What I have been doing: 

Separating the essential from the inessential.

Since the beginning of this year, I have turned (mostly) vegetarian, developed an easy camaraderie with people at work, stepped out of my comfort zone, and entertained the possibility that I'm alright.  

What I have realized: I turn older, I run out of patience. I have no patience with people who are inconsistent, and who take more than they will ever give. I really love few people, and I love them fiercely. My time is limited, but I will give it without reservation to them. The rest I have no time for. I am not one for social niceties. I thought I was, but I'm not, and I'm strangely happy with this decision. I will not waste my time with people I don't really want to any longer. It is my time after all.

I am a possessive little brat. Who tries very hard to be pretend to be a grownup. I'm not really sure what to do about this, but I do know that I need reciprocity when it comes to being essential. To be really free is to remove oneself from the need for anything, or anyone save the few biological requirements. You are then the sole master of your heart, your moods, your life. I do not want this freedom. Another kind of freedom lies in trusting someone else with the capacity to hurt you. In making someone an essential when they do not have to be. This is the one I instinctively choose, and prefer for myself, after having given it some thought. 

Which brings me to: Sometimes taking a step back is necessary. A slight shift of the frame brings back the perspective that was hard-won and then discarded- slowly, and then all at once.  I have realized that you do not really need anyone. Not really, you don't. Allowing yourself to is terrifying, but it also brings with itself the second kind of freedom, that can make life immeasurably richer if you let it.

I have realized that I do not want to be a doctor. And that I want to teach and get my hands dirty with the children. That I am not a cynic, and I never want to be. That it s important to differentiate between what you really want and what you think you should want.

I have realized that I have a choice now between viewing my life as a straight trajectory of what I could do, and what would suit my career best, or letting it become slightly unpredictable and geared towards experiences I would like to have. Not having a straight career path is borderline terrifying, and such a choice would be something that I would admire in someone else. Using myself as an experiment, is both something I long to do, and something I'm incredibly nervous about.

I'm a clingy monkey, lazy and irresponsible. I want to be the opposite.

The old motto of the lab I'm at used to be "Do something". I think I shall try very hard to adopt it as my own. Do something.

I partied away the last two days, and felt really old. Today I woke up without a hangover to a phone call from the mater, and listening to my thamma's quavery voice over the phone. She is not amused with the vegetarianism. I skyped with Upi and had a brief glimpse of Mishtu and shared virtual hugs with Shalmus. I also devoured the majority of a pumpkin pie.

What I want to do moving forward:

gain some perspective. take a step back.

get the ball rolling on life after undergrad

take greater care of my hair and my body (time to read that damn yellow book again). i'm thinking it's time to get a haircut that always brings a change.

unpack my life, and set up house properly.

stop feeling obligated to do things and meet people and spend my time on things because it seems like I should.

be productive and a step ahead at work. do something. 

For an arbit day

For Mishtu, S, Squg, Piu, Trisha, Tiyan. Also for newfound love, Tanki. "Friend" does not even begin to describe it. For being there in my darkest hours, for listening to me with infinite patience and compassion while I repeated myself, for being part of the lunacy and the digressions, for genuinely celebrating the good times, and picking up the pieces and taping them back together when I had given up. For being fascinating, beautiful, crazy intelligent, and kind women. You guys have my eternal gratitude, and my promise to do the same, with possibly a little more lunacy thrown in for good measure.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Willy Wonka almost-fiction

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I will whisper it into the pages of a book, and sigh it into the crook of my arm as I slip my hand underneath my neck at night. Curled up in the fetal position I will sleep. Dreaming is a distant land whose stories I can barely remember when I wake. The sun creeps in through the blinds at my temporary window, the wind howls and moans at night. It wails about things I think I've heard before, but long forgotten. It threatens to spill over, and reach right in and snatch me away into the night.

Somewhere in the world there is a lanky boy with unruly hair and a wicked grin. As he ambles about his day, he leaves footprints in my heart. There's a pitter-patter, and if you squint you can almost see the tracks before they disappear.

The Laughing Heart

Favourite poem recited by favourite man. I love the artwork in this short. Thanks to the hobo (yet again) for leading me to the recitation in the first place. Thanks to the creator of this film for adding even more beauty to something wondrous.

Boston Chronicles 1.0

So life in Boston has settled into its own easy pace. Cambridge is being kind to me for now. Every day brings with it some sort of new discovery. Now if only I could find more permanent, affordable housing, everything would be perfect.

The hobo, contrary to all expectations remains in my life six months in. 

Friday: After a pretty unproductive day at the lab, I was supposed to go out with AH and two of her friends for a girl's night that promised to be wild. Her friends decided to bail on her however (blasted flu), and I decided to rescue the night and have a girl's night with a completely different set of girls. So I recruited J and P, and the four of us decided that it was Friday goddammit, and we were going to have some fun. After some mulling over possible places- drinks and good food without breaking the bank seems to be a tall order- we decided upon 'Brown Sugar'. Token American aka the boss suggested Bon Chon but AH dismissed it as fast food, thoroughly upsetting him. So Brown Sugar it was, and we set out on the shuttle, clutching our coats, ushankas and scarves. We waited in the lobby for a good ten minutes, making eyes at the puffer fish, and violently coloured snaggle-tooths in their aquarium before we got a table. The food was excellent, and served in preposterous quantities. I ordered Fishman's Madness which was basically an explosion of scallops, squid, shrimps, mussels, mushrooms and peppers in this delicious chilli-garlic gravy. I have discovered that I really dislike scallops- they remind me of the pork fat that hobo and company tricked me into eating, and taste like nothing but blandness and blobs. The texture itself puts me off. The squid was for some reason carved like pineapples, but the mussels were great. Post-dinner we dragged our Garfield like selves to this tiny Japanese place where I experienced the deliciousness of mochi for the first time. I liked it so much that on Saturday I walked for half an hour to Trader Joe's to buy myself some, which sadly turned out to be nothing like the real deal. I now have a pack of mochi lying in the refrigerator, covered in flour , all gooey and gross.

Saturday was spent waking up late, frantically running to the dysfunctional T and reaching Boston Commons nearly an hour late for my ice-skating date with the labmates. The weather was unexpectedly warm and sunny, the speakers at Frog Pond played old 90's music, and we spent a good three hours there. Now this was my very first time on the ice and considering that I can't even walk in a straight line, ice skating was really... interesting. My labmates were super patient though, and the scene wound up being something like one at each side, holding my hand while the third skated behind us. Every time I would wobble, the three would zoom up and huddle around me. By the end of the day, we'd all become a lot more physically intimate than we would have expected. Good first date, I'd imagine.

So after ice skating we grabbed footlongs at Subway and then I ran to Vanderbilt Hall at Harvard for choir practice. I got roped into it by AH. Here's how it happened: Hey, you should come see my acapella group. It's gonna be a shitshow, but it'll be fun. Hey, what's your range like? Hey, you should do liptorrals and sirens. Hey, you're a soprano. Great, our group needs help.

And so I'm singing 'Fields of Gold' in harmony with the Harvard Heartbeats at their cadaver memorial on this Wednesday. What's a cadaver memorial, you ask? Well, people donate their bodies to science, see? And this Wednesday the families of those dead bodies along with all of Harvard Med School are going to come to this program at Harvard and watch me sing a solo, and harmonize with 5 other girls (it's going to be a complete shitshow, since very few of them can actually sing and we're getting roughly one and a half rehearsals in before the show). Random, but it's a thing.

The other highlight of Saturday was the walk to Trader Joe's where I bought Green Tea mochi, a pack of three dark chocolates imported from Belgium, and Trader Joe's own smooth peanut butter cups made of dark chocolate (Dear Reese's, nothing compares to you). Came home to find a note on the fridge from the second roomie saying, "Help yourself to banana cake if you like", which I obviously did, and boy was it delicious- full of pecans and almonds and chocolate chip and dusted sugar. 

Sunday has been pretty useless, in a not so terrible way. Woke up late, stayed home, talked to the hobo, and finally made my new year's list. What I hope to do with the rest of my evening: shower, laundry, read papers and come up with a list of relevant questions, finish the new year list.

Other highlights of the week include visit to Rodney's Bookstore where the guy at the counter, who is writing a book and draws comics for an indie newspaper, directed me to the underground music scene and gave me recommendations on where to live (Allston, baby!). Also lunch at cafe Au Bon Pain, where Robin Williams and whatsizname played chess in 'Good Will Hunting'. Lunch consisted of rain and a salmon-wasabi bagel which was both delicioso and affordable. Trek to Somerville to look at a potential house which turned out to be completely unsuitable. Trek to Inman Square where I discovered the Bukoswki pub which I definitely intend to visit. Also multiple visits to Flour which is close to work, has hipster baristas, and  the most beautiful lamb sandwiches- gigantic, fresh and dripping with cranberry sauce.
In other news: I bought a guitar, and I'm getting a tatoo in March which is when T comes to visit. Life is definitely having a 'What R did' moment right now.

You've got the love

1. Invincible Summer. Vines. Morning slow dawning eureka moment.
2. Productive bus ride reading paper.
3. Discover old messages. Find unexpected peace.
4. Intelligent discussion with intimidatingly smart people. Fail to reject competence.
5. Visit MIT with colleague. Bond over rants and dreams.
6. Eat Turkish chocolate.
7. Decide to leave work early. TGIF!
8 Say goodbye, promise to let people know about party over the weekend.
9. Carry hand drawn map by coworker and find indie cafe on street corner.
10. Settle down with cappuccino and research paper and alternately read and eavesdrop on conversations. Initiation ritual to life in Boston.
11. Get up to leave. "You have a radiance about you. You're going to do great things".
12. Have long conversation with strange well dressed old man. Talk about life, Reiki, Harvard, and listen to all his advice about your life with pinch of salt, and some amusement.
13. Long train and bus ride home, listening to music and feeling at peace.
14. Find out that there's been an accident.
15. Heat up chilli chicken, bhindi, and tortillas.
16. Call up friend and manhandle oven while laughing over life, love, and randomfluff.
17. Settle down. Receive goodnews about housing and the kindness of strangers.
18. Be profoundly grateful for the xx. Notice what a great bum Florence W. has.
19. Plan springbreak with friend.

Roaming girl, I cannot hold you

The thing is, it could be the time for a “nothing’s the same” post but it isn’t that kind of time. Apparently if you’ve suffered DMSO exposure, you start tasting onions and garlic. Now I can’t really smell so I’m just going to have to be very careful with all the strange molecules and drugs we like to play around with. “You belong here”, I was told. I felt like I should have been in a movie then, with quietly powerful music playing. There is a huge common area/ conference room with a huge sofa where you can expect to find people napping, glasses askew, shoes flung over at an angle, at any given time of the day. There are these huge glass walls and it’s a little surreal standing there, dangling my legs over the couch, reading- it’s the old penthouse dream I had.

I am the littlest thing. I am inconsequential. I am homeless. I am suffocating.

I used to think I liked the smell of smoke. It hangs around all the time and it makes me want to retch. Violence of emotion and then dullness. Please, please, please.

Please, please, please.

I am the most ungrateful wretch that ever was. Maybe it is the time for a “nothing’s the same” speech after all, but there isn’t anyone listening.

I can ask you to love me, I can indulge in fitful periods of unconsciousness and wake up disconsolate, but I cannot move you nor myself.

I turned twenty one, unhappily. A friend wrote me an acrostic poem. I flew across the Niagara and shared breakfast and music with a driver from the sixties. I can barely remember him now, but he had kind blue eyes, and when I told him that I was unhappy he offered me kind cliches and tales of how he’d been arrested when he was my age. Here’s what happened- they were smuggling their friends across the border to go buy alcohol where it was legal. So there are these two guys in the trunk of the car, and then the police asks ‘em to open up, and put ‘em up, and don’t you know. 

So there was that, and then I got into the airport and this strange, really disorienting thing happened. It so happens that my ringtone used to be this song by Dylan for various reasons. So I’m standing at the airport, filling out customs forms and suddenly I hear the song playing, with the distinctive train-whistle-like beginning. I look at my phone but it isn’t ringing, and the sound seems to be coming from elsewhere. I look around, searching, and briefly consider the possibility that I’m going mad. Finally I track it down to a speaker on the wall close to where I’m standing. This makes no sense, so I ask other people if they can hear it, and they can. They look at me like I’m a little insane. The song plays in its entirety and then there’s silence except for announcements. That was the only song that played the whole time I was there.

Lots of things happened, and didn’t. Family is a strange thing, distant family even more so. Living in the suburbs of Massachusetts is another experience altogether. I have my own sadness, man; I don’t need yours. I have not asked for your frustrations or anxieties or hopes. I am not as nice as you would like to believe, and I do not care. I do not ask anything in return, except to be left alone.

Going on a completely unexpected trip through my head. Everything appears slow and all at once. The universe is a whole and also fragmented and disjoint. I’m in a videogame and can’t feel my face. A speeding car and lots of nightmarish christmas lights and deconstructing absolutely everything. Boston at my feet, I’m in a car that’s turned into a plane. Prepare for take-off. It’s a sea of lights. I will never do this again. Knock on lots of doors, make lots of calls, find soulmate- whoops, something totally random and unpredictable says that you can’t have it.

I travelled up a lonely hill, through scraggly trees with only moonlight and someone in the distance. I stood on a bench and looked down at Boston. It was a lot darker than I expected. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. Thewoodsarelovelydarkanddeep. I walked on water.

Chocolate covered Macadamia nuts made with aloha. Funny eared, frightfully important men. Virtual piles of ‘awesome’ papers. Two days and I’m reeling. Nightly phone calls that last for hours and stretch out over miles on foreign soil. Forcing concentration on talks that are strangely comprehensible and interesting. Being told that the future may not be exactly as I’d anticipated. Certain closed doors begin to swing open again, and certain open doors seem to never have been.

Lots of random chances. Lots of emotion. Blank. Give up hope. Blank. Overwhelming anger. Blank. Nervousness. Weakness. Comfort Seeking. Blank. Blank. Blank. Intimidation. Mind numbing exhaustion. Blank. Blank. Blank.

Retreat into self. Read,read,read.

I had a prayer. I said it over and over and it came from the deepest part of my soul. It went: please. please, please, please. please.

Please.