Not ready to talk

Grief is a complicated, hydra-headed beast.

Boo

(this happened in 2015 I think but I can't remember if I ever shared it here)

Life in random snippets:

"I was walking in downtown Chicago to the train station with a friend when a (drunk and belligerent seeming) man yelled at me: 'Are you Asian or Indian?' (Umm seriously?)

He then went on to yell: teach your people to fucking tip better, you fucking Indians blah blah. (But but but I never took responsibility for all billion people - but racial slurs don't work that way I suppose? So I'll start offering lessons then?)

Even as we walked away, this kind of went on with him yelling. There wasn't any point engaging with him, even though it would have been nice to have an honest conversation (I can't even imagine the frustration of being a min wage worker, dependent on tips, but even so...)

I was pretty calm then but felt kind of shaken on the ride home. This is perhaps the only such experience I have had in Chicago and isn't reflective at all of my time here. But it sort of reminded me of the difference between a slur and stereotype and also why every once in a while, I feel uncomfortable in my own (brown Indian) skin."

You are tired by e.e. cummings

You are tired,

(I think)

Of the always puzzle of living and doing;

And so am I.

Come with me, then,

And we'll leave it far and far away—

(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,

(I think)

And broke the toys you were fondest of,

And are a little tired now;

Tired of things that break, and—

Just tired.

So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,

And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—

Open to me!

For I will show you the places Nobody knows,

And, if you like,

The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!

I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,

That floats forever and a day;

I'll sing you the jacinth song

Of the probable stars;

I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,

Until I find the Only Flower,

Which shall keep (I think) your little heart

While the moon comes out of the sea.

e.e. cummings

Portable

Moving kicks butt. I’ve done many kinds of moving. I started grand and gradually narrowed the imprudence of my ambitions. For my first move, I left my city, country and continent for a new set. All armed with two suitcases and a recklessness that in retrospect gives me the shivers. I half-knew a few people, I did not trust anyone. I was alone, more so in my head than in reality. Two years later, I decided (or rather was compelled to) to switch cities, leaving the calmer streets of Twin Cities for the bustle of Chicago. This time two suitcases would not be enough. Instead I had Amtrak ship six boxes for me, which arrived in the heart of downtown, in an underground city that I didn’t know existed. I cursed myself for those six boxes, as I tried to find someone who could drive me and the boxes for a price I could afford to what was to be a temporary home.

Shouldering

So today I woke up and something had happened to my shoulder/back. I couldn't stand or sit up and was hobbling most of the day. I absolutely had to do laundry today and I have promised myself that I will not eat lunch every single work day. The aim is to take lunch with me thrice a week and eat out the other two days. I never land up cooking during the week and so I use my Sundays to pack snacks, fruits and lunches. Given my shoulder today, I chopped then lay down, stirred then lay down, roasted and then lay down, packed some boxes then lay down. You get the drift. Everything took a lot of time but I am glad it was on a Sunday and not in the work week -- there isn't as much option for pause.

Daylight savings did something and I am not sure if I gained an hour or lost an hour but it was pitch black at 5 pm and that was not fun. I would have loved to take a walk but it felt like midnight. As I write this, I am huddled in front of a heater, eating ice cream, watching parks and recreation and in complete denial about some personal sadness. The show must go on, life waits for no one and grief is best worn alone (things I both believe and don't believe in).

Auto-pilot

It's been a while and so I am not going to try and catch you up on all that has happened (mainly a long trip home). I have been back for about five days and I've realized that while I am physically back, mentally I'm still floating somewhere in-between.

A Round Up of Daily Tragedies

I was born as Wednesday’s child of woe and I thrive in lamenting daily losses , both mine and yours. The little big things, the invisiblia and obscure paraphernalia of the everyday normal. Think of this as your daily wrap-up of today’s tragedies that went by without notice or pause. The involuntary shoulder shakes of the woman with sandy hair thrown messily into a bun 20 years too young for her. The endless sparkle of city lights from the window of a building I will only be allowed to enter once. The cracks in the pavement leading to the bus stop, unnoticed by the city, just like the rest of the neighborhood. The unexpected kind words of a strange man I encounter at the train station — I cannot lie, my first instinct was (and always is) fear. The gentle cajoling smile on the face of the young man selling his poetry downtown. The homeless father-daughter duo, offering blessings to disappointed downtowners.

...

Decal on a Wall

There's lots going on. Work is in full momentun (and I am enjoying it, even though it has crept a little into my weekends and weeknights). Most days I feel fierce, occasionally I find myself a little tired and today I found myself amused and appalled -- so your regular work life. I have realized that along with the things I do well, I also have to remember that I tend to bluntness and directness that can seem abrasive. I also ask a lot of questions and push hard when I don't get clear answers. This is good to get work done but isn't always a great interpersonal trait. It is what I tend to naturally though and so I have to be conscious about it.

Summer in Chicago is full of hope and sunshine and it is good for my soul. Although without coffee I am nothing. I've been changing the room decor in spurts and now have two walls that are bright and cheerful - one of them has a lovely wall decal sourced via Etsy and the other has cheerful and positive posters from TJ Maxx and Etsy. I really struggled with mood recently and I have decided I can use all the good cheer in my life. 

Flying

The days have been flying. If paperwork and bureaucracy had allowed, I would have been in India right now. But I am not. I am here and the days have been full to the point of bursting. I've transitioned into a new role, which I am enjoying tremendously and which also needs me to handle several moving parts and constantly be on my toes. I am learning to redefine for myself what prepared for the day means as well as to remove some of the everyday decision fatigue.

Summertime

Summertime in Chicago is beautiful. It is sunny and warm and gorgeous. Both the lakefront and riverfront are delightful. The weather is perfect right now -- the winter has gone and the harsh summer is not here yet. The weekend was easy, full of activities and laughter. As always, when a lot is going on, there is not much to put in words here.

Centennial Wheel

In Other Words by Jhumpa Lahiri

I am very ambitious in my borrowings from the public library. I am fascinated by the extent of its collections, the ability to check out an e-book and read it on my Kindle, the neat stacks of books. But of course, I don't always manage to complete or even start the large number of books I check out. I realized a few days ago that I had Jhumpa Lahiri's latest book 'In Other Words' and it was due soon. Books as new as that are rarely available to re-issue. I opened it last evening only to realize that it was in Italian and English. It is the story of her love and learning of Italian, learning to speak, read and write in Italian. 

How to break a brown girl

I wrote this at https://quntfront.com/2016/05/10/how-to-break-a-brown-girl/
(Go read. With humor)

"Well for starters, you take her out of her (brown) country and put her in a white one. This way you make her realize she is brown, a lower-ranked pawn in the chessboard of colors. This is just the beginning. Repeatedly and loudly compliment her on her command of the English language, so that she does not forget that she is foreign, that language too is a colonial legacy, over which she has flimsy claim. Ask her if she learned how to speak so fluently from the movies or her parents (because they belong together on the spectrum of parenting)."

Pause

I paused the other day and realized I was living the life I had seen other people live but somehow thought I would avoid - a messy, complex life, full of joy and grief at the same time, with no easy answers or resolutions. I was living in the gray, my black and white filter being rendered useless at the first hint of adult life. I am learning that compassion and compromise are not negotiable. What a messy, messy life. Who knew it would be like this. I find and lose things, I find and lose friends, I find and lose myself. I am not the constant I imagined growing up into.I try and live in the occasional kind moments. I remind myself goodenough, goodenough, goodenough. Live in the goodenough, stay, be kind, be here.

Taming the Chaos

I was born disorganized. At the end of my undergraduate degree, my mom did a massive clean-up in which she found hundreds of to-so lists that I had developed. I had lists to track other lists. I had lists on small chits of paper, on giant pages, on everything possible.

This

This is one of the toughest times in the life I have lived so far, especially as an adult responsible for myself.

Rinse and Repeat, Rinse and Repeat

'At every moment of our lives, we all have one foot in a fairy tale and the other in the abyss’

P Coelho

(not a fan of the author, but this line stands out for me)

I have learned that if I experience a specific feeling, a certain emotion, enough number of times (there is a magic number here but I have forgotten to keep count), that I start seeing a pattern, an ebb and flow.

Dancing with hope

Hope and I, we've had an interesting life together. We don't always get along, we are friendly but not friends. sometimes I think hope takes some grim pleasure in playing hide and seek with me. At others, I am sure hope is astonished by how blind I am to it being in front of me.

In today's bucket lists and pipe dreams

(I am trying this thing where I cut down on my caffeine-intake. It is hard. Very, very hard.) 

I am nothing if not ambitious in my dreams (and carrying grocery bags and starting new projects and cleaning the house and trying to lift things like furniture and moving from places). It does not always last. It does not last most of the times. But it lends itself to an entertaining life with a high probability of (mis)adventure.

After A Long Pause

This has been one of my longer pauses. The days and weeks have been full.

Room(s)

I have a memory of summers, a summer and a memory, which are one of my happier ones. I remember walking back home, perhaps from tuition classes or German or one of the many random nothings that filled up my teenage and early years. The street lights are glowing, the evening is starting to cool down and the dust has settled for today. I can hear the hum of evening rituals, voices and television and bikes and shouts and clinking of utensils.

Fraud Indian Woman

So I dug through the archives and found this. I wrote this but never shared it? I think it was probably because of it doesn't seem to make a clear point, just ask questions. But I still find it a useful compass, even if it is two years later. 

At this stage in my life, I find I have no choice but to talk about gender or being a woman. I am not going to get into how I am at this point or stage in my life but I find that I have to speak. There are so many levels on which I am tired of seeing how the world works against women. In this I include both men and women. It is not a one way street. As I moved to Minneapolis, I found myself navigating expectations of how I should be both as an 'Indian' and 'Indian woman'. I am not the first nor the last person to do this. I am just talking about my experiences, which for the longest time I have held back from sharing because I wasn't sure if there was anything new in it. That being said, not being new doesn't make it any less important. I have also often wondered how is it that people reach a point of incredible frustration and disappointment with stereotypes and expectations. I get it now. It is the timeless story of the last straw breaking the camel's back. You reach a point where you cannot take it one more time.

A Borrowed Imagination

I was going through some old writing and blogs and I found a bunch of things that reminded me of who I was and where I was and how far I've come in some ways (and not in others).

The Last Colony

"Women are the last colony. Other colonies have been liberated. A colony is a person or place whose resources you exploit, whose cheap labour you exploit. So our colonizer, our families, exploit our labour, exploit our sex, exploit our reproductive power, everything."

http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/columns/Harsh_Mander/the-last-colony/article4146418.ece

Frozen Turkey Bowling and Other Life Sports

That thing that says O'Hare, does it 
have a name? Is it just a display sign? 
I want it to be more

I jokingly ask a friend, if this will be the thing that changes my life and makes me more organized (the thing in this case being a padfolio with multiple compartments and a pullout binder). I want to believe it will be but as my friend says, probably not, but it's worth the hope. To which I say, hope should not cost 30 bucks. Really.

Spark Joy!

 “A good half of the art of living is resilience.”

― Alain de Botton

(his pithy lines are my version of the holy book or whatever)

I'm always trying to find the right balance of being out and doing things and living and simply being at home and just living. I've started to notice a pattern: I'll have a weekend or two with an intense burst of activity and then I will hibernate, to recover.

Oh hey, January 2016! ^_^

For the first time in my life, I forgot a friend of mine. Just in my brain. So when she sent me a friendly hello, I paused and realized that I had forgotten her. That made me stop. I used to remember all the details about everyone but that's also because very few people were in my life. As the years pass by, I have started to forget and it has started to make sense. This also means I am more understanding of when other people forget things. I misplace memories or sometimes I lose them entirely (I remember a while back, when I was in India, meeting someone who I apparently knew from tuition classes. Till this date, I can never remember having met him. Bizarre). But I cannot remember the last time I forgot a person entirely. On a happier note, I also realized I have a friend-in-progress. Someone whose company I enjoy very much each time we meet and it gets better. I feel lucky.

This week in life

(this is an old piece from the time when I was in the right city but wrong house)

There is something to be said for evening skies that look like the Camlin ink spills of my school years, for the breeze of a pedestal fan built from a scratch. I can hear the city moving on the highway, the muffled roar of the city train rolling by. Occasionally a helicopter lands on a helipad in the middle of a park; after all we are close to a hospital. The Internet connection is patchy, always patchy, it breaks every few minutes. A middle-aged man is doing yoga in a park and I see lots of families sitting in the park. The corridors of this building smell like the hidden parts of a bad restaurant. I ask about recycling only to be told 'we don't do that sort of thing here. Don't worry, you don't have to separate'. What if I want to separate? This has started to feel too much like the parts of home I tried to leave behind. I know in two days that this is untenable. I am starting to feel the invisible shackles again. I look and look and look until I hit jackpot. I am mostly moved out but can't afford rent in two places. So I sit, in this dimly lit room, watching the sky turn black, streets lit orange. I have given up frugality for this weekend, my latest splurge is a pillow that I lean against. I can't lie, it feels good. I miss my four pillows. By some magic, Netflix has finally started to work. I need those conversations in the background, the long weekend looms and I find myself wishing for plans and company. This place makes me stand out, not in a good way, but as a malfunctioning misfit. I have done that for too long in this life, I defiantly refuse to do it anymore.

On Loneliness

This.

“I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don't know why, some people fill the gaps and others emphasize my loneliness. In reality those who satisfy me are those who simply allow me to live with my ''idea of them.”

― Anaïs Nin

2016

2015 is over. Done and dusted. Who would have thought? It doesn't really feel like a new year although the thought of being almost 30 is a little alarming. December was quite a month and that's why the lack of posts. Lots of ups and downs. I had quite a bizarre list of highlights from 2015 but then gave up on it. It included a bizarre conversation with a Lyft driver who called me a 'mature and passionate woman' and said 'religion has never caused any harm' (plus insisted I sit up front and patted my knee). He was serious, I was intent on making it home. I've never had such a bizarre experience with Uber and having used a few more Lyfts around town, some of it is Lyft (which I am going to try and not use at all anymore).