It is a shame that I return to you like this. It has been a long long time and I’ve had a lot of free time on my hands. I don’t know if you’d call it ‘free’ since this quantum of time merely represents time not spent at work. There’s a lot of shit to do when you live alone, coupled with hours of self loathing for not doing any of it.
And now I’m going home in eight days and I’ve slipped completely and inexorably into my holiday mood. This is a light and happy time, as I’m preoccupied by things like thoughts of packing and gift buying. For the record, I’m not required to buy presents. I just feel like since it’s my first time going home after having moved I should take something for my family. Something exotic and middle easty like dates / a baby camel / shoes full of sand / an Aston Martin abandoned on the side of the road. Instead, I’ve bought shit like body butter (moringa, which is this really nice smelling flower), body wash (watermelon + eucalyptus, fig + rosemary, apricot + basil). I’m basically taking my family things that remind people of salad.
I think I was afraid of this happening and it has happened. I like living in Dubai. I don’t like it as much as home, naturally, but I like it. It’s peaceful, I’m settling into a routine, I have cats here who need me (or so I like to believe), I have a nice job that is not too stressful, with easy hours and a ridiculous salary. I like my bedroom, where I get to sit on my bed, next to my giant window which fills up the room with light. I like how its getting cold and I have to necessarily open the windows and the balcony door so I don’t have to live with my skin all goosebumpy. I like that I can wear anything and that I have to shop and feed myself. I really like my flat.
How is it supposed to work when you have someone reporting to you who is v sweet and sincere but who pisses you off endlessly? The constant puppy –eyes, the quiet yet very in your face ‘I’m working hard + being proactive’. It all makes me want to barf. Seriously, universe. Don’t hire me. I should go down on my tubby knees and thank the stars that I never had a boss like me. Do I get points for the fact that I don’t professionally don’t hold it against him? He just had a v good PD session. It’s just me who wants to smack him.
Now that I consider what I’ve written in light of the fact that I’m updating my blog only because my boss isn’t here and I’m frolicking in my holiday mode, I am filled with shame + regret. But I’ve implemented a no delete policy here on Step.Down. which will clearly come to be my undoing.
I have returned to this abortive entry hours later, full of soy milk macchiatos. I can practically hear the sloshing inside of me when I walk. My mind is mulch and my hair fabulous. I smoke too much (something I say now in every single entry) but Saul Bellow said ‘I think more die of heartbreak than radiation,’ which is something to think about. I seem to suffer from pointless, needless heartbreak, even when there appears to be none in my life. Give me time, I’ll also start churning out bitter, angry rambly poetry in my free time. And then we’ll all *REALLY* appreciate the no delete policy.
There are these moments when I’m made aware of my staggering lack of substance. I suppose it’s not fair to expect other people to share all sorts of meaningful insight given the situation. Speaking of lack of substance, are you guys watching Boardwalk Empire? Is the reason that men like the show so much because it’s so oedipal in nature? The commodore is the father Jimmy hates, but whose approval he so desperately needs. Nucky is the father Jimmy had and hates and wants to ‘vanquish.’ His mean dad is the father Nucky wants to prove his worth to. Nucky is the father the SUPER super cute new Irishman whose name I don’t remember wants to prove himself to and whose wife (therefore, his ‘mother’) he wants to eventually do. Nucky is the father Eli hates and wants to prove himself to. ALL THE GANGSTERS ARE THE FATHERS EVERYONE HATES AND WANTS TO PROVE THEMSELVES TO. The only cool fellow is Chalky White, who I suspect will get lynched :( Terrible poetry and CBSE brand armchair psychology is what the new policy gets you. I’m going to India and on my list of things I must return with are my warmer jackets, Chunky Chat Masala, channa masala, maggi masala and bags of Uncle Chips. As you can see, a lack of spice is one of the main problems of the middle east. Nasi goreng flavoured maggi is wrong and let your children eat chips in flavours other than salt, ridged + salt, salt + cheese and the godawful honey barbeque.
I weep for your children.
I weep for how bad the title of this post is :(