It’s my last day at work before I buckle down and behave and hit the old books. I’m at that point where just the thought of being home sounds wildly exciting. I’m going to get to sleep and read and hang out with the kids and my brother and be zen and read all my newspapers from cover to cover and stay in my pyjamas for weeks on end. It’s a very heady time. I’m going to get oh so unbelievably bored and I’m going to be the sad girl who’s on google talk all the time, who no one wants to talk to, because it’s obvious she has nothing better to do. All those years of bad karma, of appearing offline and saying brb and gtg when I had nowhere to go and no intention of being right back will catch up with me and bite me in the ass.
However, I AM turning 24. For the record it’s still three strands of white hair. It was four earlier, but one broke accidentally. And resulted in a moment of blind panic where I foolishly thought a million new strands of white hair would replace that one overnight. Twenty – four, dudes. I’m not going to live to a hundred, so I’m already a quarter done! And if I keep crossing roads the way I do, maybe 80% done, but it’s all inshallah. The other event the people of Delhi are counting down the days to (besides my janamdin i.e.) is the Commonwealth Games. Finally motherfuckers! I think I’d like to go and actually see the games, after all this is where ALL of our tax money (and then some) has gone. This is the reason why we’re hoarding lots of surplus electricity and water and not feeding our poor or building schools. But we do have very nice roads and a lot of parts do look a LOT cleaner. One sincerely hopes the Commonwealth delegation doesn’t accidentally stray into Khanpur or the still emitting Mayapuri. Mild embarrassment will occur. But yeah, anyone with passes who wants very interesting and wildly good looking company, please step forward.
Did I tell you about my austerity plan? Well, it sucks and all I want to do is go buy those flimsy shirts that Mango sells for 1200 bucks a pop just for the heck of it. It’s worrying, because now I’m actually thinking of how I might be wearing out particular things that I like. And when that used to happen earlier, I’d just buy two or three of the exact same thing. But now I’m becoming some sort of crazy hoarder, who squints at all her friends and mutters to herself ‘I’m not marginally fading out this xyz thing I like so much for YOU.’ Turns out I might just value some of my shirts more than my friends. Thank you, austerity.
I don’t feel young anymore internet. I blame work. I really miss college and studying and notebooks and stationery. I miss young fun. Not remembering the name of the club you’re in, not being able to see or think straight, infinite dancing with strangers. Not that I’d want to actually spend any of my free time that way now. Incidentally, if you peruse the archive of this blog I think all posts in April sound similarly cranky. I want a hat for my birthday, internet. I think I want a hat.
Back to work.