Fuel-ling Nightmares!

What a terrible way to break a long spell, but well here it is… born out of bad, moody weather, petrol dreams and lots of work-related stress!
So yes, for all those of my faithful readers, who have missed me, I’m back… with a whimper.

Now, there’s several reasons to whimper… I mean now I have a car (yay yay!! No more fights with auto wallahs). But I honestly could not have chosen a better time. I mean 100 bucks doesn’t even buy you 2 FULL litres of petrol. Some life, huh? I feel like being terrible and saying something about bread lines, but shall desist. I have other things to bitch about- things that have already happened.

And what has happened is- I have started to dream about my fuel gauge dipping to dangerously low levels… like very very close to the dreaded ‘E’. The previous nightmare was truly nightmarish… the big E was of course drawing very close, I had a verrry drunk R slumped on the seat next to me, we were badly lost and I had no clue where the next U-turn was and then, I did something humongously stupid- I got to petrol pump which was swarming with swarthy truck drivers and lots of policemen and… and… I went to get air checked in my tyres and I did not re-fuel!!! Isn’t it so sad that even in my dreams I have no money for fuel!!!! I mean, I can’t be that stupid, just broke… teeehehehehehehe… even in my nightmares, so… who wants to be billionaire??

And then I also went one step further to dream about my bro’s new-ish bike getting stolen. I woke up, late for work and in a panic to call him to check on his bike. He of course, didn’t bother. But yes, there were more fuel gauge terrors. There was apparently a leak in my petrol tank (am I correct?) and again, I was out of fuel and late to work or some such thing. Ah lord, what does this mean?? Does this even need dream interpretation? No! What is bloody well needed is a fabulous transport system that does not force people to buy cars and then induce fuel-related nightmares!!!

Maybe I am just a whiner, so let’s end on a happy happy note. There’s a good movie in town- Dark Knight!!!! Yaaaay! Never mind that I haven’t seen it, I will very soon. B’s been in town, just awesome knowing that a dear friend is at least in the same city and I can drive to meet her, albeit we are both grown up now and have to be working very hard, and R has landed herself a wonderful job, J’s around and look’s happier in Vasant Kunj, the party last Saturday was great fun, with all the girlies and two random men, and there’s a gift from the party that we are yet to open!

Sunday

Sheesh, the horrid Monday went by. But must talk about wonderful Sunday. Now, R has an exam but N comes over ‘cause the dearie must go back to Bangalore. So exam or no exam, we must party! Very often, we have proved that we exist only to eat, and so we did just that again this Sunday… R and I are convinced we need more Sundays like these… Chinese and Thai beckoned, pay day having just gone by, spulrge was the operative word. And my my, we can be such cats sometimes- all for comfort and indulgence. What a fun meal, I mean, we have all had that kind of meal right? Lots of great conversation, you can stuff your face without being worried that you’re being judged/silently being accused of causing a famine in some part of the world. The conversation moves from downright nasty/bitchy/gross to thoroughly uplifting and soul stuff. Besides, you eat like a pig and you know that after you’re done, hunting for dessert will happen. You don’t get weird looks for wanting DESSERT. Ya, screw the calories and make me happy please! Yesterday it was – chocolate croissant, dutch caramel (I picked this because the other 2 cats were lusting for good caramel custard that was nowhere to be found. No, custard dahlings, but at least I managed the caramel part!) The buzz was warm, happy and I thought if I died now, I would go away pretty peacefully- ya, life still sucks on many levels, but just right then, its all manageable. Thank you my dear cats, what a gorgeous Sunday lunch, just when I needed it. Muaaah.

And then you know, towards the end of the week, started reading Susan Sontag’s ‘Notes on Camp’.
http://interglacial.com/~sburke/pub/prose/Susan_Sontag_-_Notes_on_Camp.html
Been dying to read this for ages, since the days of yore- my Masters programme which ended, which would be a year ago...(shoot!!! Thats a loooooong time!) Goddddd, Sontag, I want a life like that... more like need to BUILD life like that. Anyhoo, been trying to evaluate exactly how 'camp' I am... need more of a meditation on that... which this blog shall not be privy to

Of the many things I love about the piece, here's one, nicely connected with the talk about the Sunday lunch and all its pleasures... and comes from Oscar Wilde, and boy, he did say some very pragmatic, charming things.

"I adore simple pleasures, they are the last refuge of the complex." - A Woman of No Importance
Now, I agree with the simple pleasures bit, whether thats because I am complex/plain twisted/too much of a nincompoop, I shall not get into... teeeeehehehehhehehehehe

FB OD

I was just thinking, more like looking far ahead into the future, that in the tradition of fashionable, wonderfully popular blogs, if I were to tag my current post I already know what I would put it down as ‘boredom.’, ‘Facebook’ See, even before I write a post I am ready to tag- always put the cart before the cow, and then… well, hope it all falls into place. Sigh. That’s my life … and my blog.

But of course all of us bored people know that boredom can be extremely productive. My productive spurt led to me finally opening a Facebook account. No, hold back the eggs, tomatoes and all sundry, I really did not have the inclination! And besides, in my usual presumptous ways, I thought I was above all this. Orkut took up enough time as it is! ‘Loser!!!!’ rings in my head. Sigh. Yes, so have gone beserk, adding applications left, right, centre, interrogating friends about why I hadn’t figured in a particular list, hadn’t got a particular superlative, threatening people who had ugly pics of me to get them off their profiles (and I swear there’s a lot of them floating around!eeeeksss!), and basically ODing on it’s little trashities (niceties comes from nice, trashities comes from trash. Dhuh.) and of course, all the tests I did badly on, I deleted apps and hid the stories. What else shall I do?

Of course, I also poked fun at a certain boy who took the ‘which roadie are you?’ quiz and invited me as well, which told him he was blah character and therefore a ‘typical villager type woman’!!! Omigod, I died laughing. Very pettily he told me that the a-fore-mention-ed character is leading in the current round of roadies. Teehehehee. Big joy. See, I did a little better than that- I was ‘mastermind of the roadies’ –ha!! Like really, people must be bored-er than I for them to make this terrible one. Sorry dude… life’s a bitch sometimes.

See, all this was fun. The problem happened with the ‘Which Friends Character are You?’ Quiz. Well, 'Friends' isn’t exactly a part of my DNA or anything, nor do I drop dead if I don’t watch it, but yes, I guffaw when I do, enjoy it, and I’ve seen enough to KNOW, to UNDERSTAND what the characters are all about. So, I take this quiz and at first the results are that I am mostly Chandler, with a little bit of Ross.

Oooook, a friend or two expressed great shock- I mean Chandler is super funny and I am not. Yes, yes, I know I am not that funny, but really, I didn’t lie or anything, swear! I let that be until 2 days later, until it just didn't feel right. Chandler? Nah. Ross? Hmmmmm. I took the test 3 more times ( Loser, loser!) But Chandler kinda stuck to me very stubbornly, except for one time when it was Rachel and Ross. Now, if you read the description (the love life bit), gosh that was too much of a contradiction to handle. So, of course retook the test. Chandler and various others. Where was this Chandler in me? Have I been blind to my own comic genius??

Eventually, I deleted the quiz from my profile. There's an IQ quiz that I am avoiding like the plague . I am of course Right Brained, and R has been trying to figure out how the dancer is twirling clockwise... R, you should have done what I did- I really did look at my clock (I always need to do that... my avoidance of the IQ Test makes sense now, doesn't it? Teeeeheheehee!) And today, I took one 'What Kind of Eyes Do You Have?' I have Eagle eyes. Scary or what. But scary eyes notwithstanding, I am 'usually amused' and I am 'the kind of girl everyone loves to be around' awwwwwwww and yet, I am Don Vito Corleone. (Pssst- Retook this one till I got the man himself ;) Is it just me or does everybody get bothered by this stuff? Possibly not, I am waiting for the novelty to wear off and for me to find a worthy enough mission at work.

In the meanwhile, I know which quiz I'll do now- ‘Which Sex and the City character you are?’ What fun!

Jealousy, Dog, Blog...

Call it a classic case of jealousy raising its ugly head. I saw a great blog, read about her good life in another city. And then another one, that bitch stole my thunder as well… shallow, hollow me- totally consumed by jealousy. So I told myself, heck I can do this too… What else if not a blog when the many aspects of being 23, all seem to look very bleak??!?? After all, one loserly afternoon I read in the Readers’ Digest (tehehehee!!) about some law of blogging: the more interesting your life, the lesser you blog and vice versa. So damn true man. Also, I can’t have a dog, I might as well have a blog. And I don’t say that simply because ‘blog’ and ‘dog’ rhyme, though accidental rhymes can brighten up a day like nothing else.

Break this down, dear Watson. Why can’t I have a dog? Because I don’t have a roof over my head. Why don’t I have a roof over my head? Because i believe in revolting against exploitative people like my ex-landlady. Why the landlady? Because I live far away from mommy and daddy and the house that I made no effort to find. Why do I live far away from mommy and daddy? Because I work here and they stay there. Why do I work here? For the love of the work, I say! You can’t have it all… house, dog, maid, interesting job...so you have a blog. Uh huh.

According to J, we have bad landlady- karma, which means that she and I(and probably the whole househunters frat out there) probably did something spectacularly horrendous to our landlady in our past birth and thus the resultant miseries of carton- living and single- bag wardrobes. It all adds up, and how!Most days we don’t think bout past birth and all that but househunting does that to you, ok?

This talk bout past birth and karma etc could also to do with the many calls made to estate agents. I swear it’s a thing with estate agents- they’re a pious bunch. Call 5 estate agents in a row… (we’re talking bout Delhi here, btw) you’ll get the picture. Better still, these are remixed bhajans… so you almost start humming the cheesy song from your bachpan, or from a movie that was relegated to the dark recesses of your mind until suddenly there is talk about dharm, karma, apocalypse, saviours, etc… the cheese is now sanctified? Uh huh.

You think, that was a sign, you start praying to really no much avail. J’s theory is so right… I did do something terrible for me to have agents on speed dial, for me to wait for their calls above all else and for me to Google ‘homelessness’ one morning- this could be more due to a melodramatic tendency and boredom more than anything else, I am willing to admit.

So go back to the dog and why I have a blog and not a dog. Living alone in a city leaves room for really improving your karma and indulging in charity- adopt dogs, cats, or hedgehogs and porcupines if you please. But, err, in my case, charity will begin with a home. Ergo, no home, no charity, no dog, only blog!