Sunday, November 25, 2007

The Straight Jacket Of Life

I just spent this weekend attending a Bengali-Mallu wedding. I ought to be pretty happy, you should think, considering that I am not yet at that age when I think I'm getting too old and my options are dwindling. But I'm not. For one, I'm completely exhausted having gotten very little sporadic sleep. Right now, I can almost feel the bags under my eyes, but it's too early to sleep. I am yet to have dinner, and I shall sleep after that. However, when I'm in this state, I'm usually frustrated and angry. I've spent the greater part of my evening playing cricket on my computer. I'm depressed and lonely because I can't think of a single person to call and whine to, and I can't crib to mum and have her take care of me because I'm at the other end of the country from my family. I don't feel like calling anybody from my little black book (on my phone) either, I'm not very kicked by any of them at the moment. I don't feel like writing a mail.

Speaking of writing, I started this month with a mission - to write 50,000 words in one month. My novel should have been nearing completion now. I started the month well enough and I drove through over 10,000 words in just over a week of concentrated writing. However, after that I just lost interest and steam, despite well-intentioned pushes and prods from well-meaning friends and critics. My book has remained in exactly the same state as it was 2 weeks ago. I have done almost no writing in the last 2 weeks, not in my book, not on my blog, save for a few words in an article that I need to finish.

I am disgruntled. I am sick of it all. There is only so much I can do on my computer and on the internet. I need to get out of the house and do stuff outside, but living without transportation in Delhi can sort of nip that in the bud pretty quickly. I started drum classes this past week in a bid to achieve the above as well as tune up my drumming skills. The instructor didn't turn up the first class, so I went crazy on the drums, not having been on the throne for about 6 months, and had fun. The instructor did turn up the second class, and he quickly cut me down to size and made me play a waltz beat for the rest of the class, softly. It looks like he'll make me play different rhythms every class, because that's probably the proper way to condition a drummer who's been largely self-taught. He probably hasn't heard of Keith Moon. So, one month later, instead of gaining more independence, I'll probably be able to gain temporary employment in a wedding band. We always used to joke about how the biggest competition to The Unlike No Ones was the Maharaja Band in Bopal.

I am disgruntled. I am sick of it all. And I don't want to go to work tomorrow. As far as my job is concerned, I'm flogging a dead horse. I nearly put in my papers a few times this month, but I didn't. A new boss is joining next month, so I thought I'll stick around till then. Then I'll stick around for another month or so, breaking the new boss in, maybe doing an event. Then, if the new boss is good, I might stick around for another month. That puts me in the middle of February. Since I have to attend a wedding of 2 good friend-batchmates of mine around this time, I'll come back enthusiastic enough to stick around for another month. Towards the end of March, we have a nice huge fun conference that everybody who went for the previous one keep raving about. So I'll be enthused enough to stick around for another month. That puts me in the middle of April. Then, with nothing else to look forward to except the harsh summer of Delhi, I will put in my papers. The one month notice period, if I choose to serve it, will put me in the middle of May. My mother's birthday is on May 7. And so it will be that I will find myself back home in Bengaluru in early May, with another job or freelancing. Quite a plan, eh?

Friday, November 16, 2007

Winter

The afternoon sun is harsh
The strobes of light are diffused and weak
But it is in the order of things
For we need something, anything
To differentiate the winters from the summers

The morning sun is soft and caressing
The afternoon sun only warms the cockles of my heart
The evenings, the sun is nearly non-existent
The days are short and the nights are long
For darkness falls quickly when it is winter

There is a certain laziness in the air
As old, stiff leaves separate from their roots
In a dazzling rainfall of green and brown
Nostalgia, served in large cups
With time and the warmth of a hearth

There is a certain nip in the air
The cold leaves no longer flutter
Out come gloves and mittens
Wear those hats and caps
Wrap the scarves and mufflers
Drink your hot cocoa by the fire
Put your feet up
It's winter time

Monday, November 05, 2007

Monday Morning Blues

It's another Monday morning, again, and I'm at work, again. Crib, whine, grumble.

I'm trying to ease the pain by listening to Corinne Bailey Rae, recommended by my friend with the new york syndrome.

In related news, I plan to take up the saxophone. I've been fascinated by the sax for years and have always wanted to learn. I'm going to take the first step next week. This idea got re-invigorated after I saw a Simpsons episode called Moanin' Lisa about Lisa and her sax. Then, immediately after I made the call last night to enquire about sax classes and set up the date for next week, the first song that played on my Winamp that had my entire music collection and was on shuffle was Moanin' Lisa Blues, replete with a line right in the middle that goes "The saxophone's my best friend". And I knew it was a sign. It had to be. I'd like it to be.

In unrelated news, I'm writing a novel this month, courtesy NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). I have to do 50,000 words in one month. So far, I'm pretty much on course. Of course, this will affect my blog the most, so don't expect major contributions this month to ragsrags.

And finally, I'm going home this Diwali. There's also a driving trip in the offing once I get home. So this weekend ought to be a great one.