Step.Down.

bullets bullets

2012-01-15T18:43:00.000+05:30

- Interwebz, meri jaan. It’s a good day, it’s a windy day, it’s a day where I’m sort of slacking off and not feeling bad about it also. Do I say that too often now? Yesterday, I opened my first bottle of wine by myself. All it took was one youtube video and I was uncorking like a boss. Only to realize that there’s no way I can consume that much wine within three days and I have to somehow save it from the evil forces of oxidization. Then the internet told me to stick the bottle in the fridge (which seemed very wrong for red wine, but hey, what do I know?) I also happily discovered that I ought to be able to finish the bottle within a respectable period of time and enjoy its vast array of health benefits. Which I spent this morning googling.

- I have a new method of commuting. After my brief romance with driving and my slightly serious relationship with taxis and carpooling, I’ve moved on to the metro. The weather is perfect for long (by a crippled pygmy’s standards) walks and the accompanying mindlessness. The actual train ride makes me feel like a towering giant in a train-car full of tiny fillipino women. In a sea of perfectly straight haired women, the top of whose heads reach my breasts, I am a frizzy haired behemoth. I almost never get a seat but this doesn’t stop me from managing to read on my Kindle (which I love).

- I’m currently experiencing an acutely antisocial phase. Which I’m also enjoying substantially. I had plans with a friend who was supposed to come over yesterday and chill and get a drink (from my overflowing alcohol cabinet). While making these plans I knew there was a 90% chance I’d cancel, which I eventually did. It’s a similar story when it comes to my updating this blog. I don’t feel the need, not when I’m so perfectly content reading blogs instead. Part of me feels inarticulate and unable to string a coherent sentence together. I can’t remember if ramble-on-confusing-sentences-with-no-point-and-structure were always my style. Part of the charm and comfort of my Kindle is that I now spend time actually paying attention to sentence structure. Bullet points are still my crutch, but hey, at least I’m trying.

- Since you guys haven’t actually read all my abortive unposted entries, you probably don’t know the full extent of my whining about my inability to write anymore. But what the fuck is the deal? How the hell does it matter if I don’t, since most of my whining seems to be about the fact that I’m perfectly content not writing. Constant moaning and bitching aside, I seem to harbour some sort of strange fear that if I don’t document document document, my edges will become less defined, I’ll start losing molecules, I’ll curl up like a leaf. I have the world’s worst memory, where my actual memories seem to bear no relation to a sense of time. If you ask me when I think a certain thing happened I will not be able to give you an answer. I can’t seem to get a grip on time as a modular concept and years sure as hell don’t have defined boundaries in the old hat-rack.

- It’s so windy today! Yesterday, my bowls full of cat food and heated up milk (carried downstairs very slowly, carefully and lovingly) respectively were literally knocked over by a particularly vicious, extra strong gust of wind. My cats are almost all grown up. One’s recovering beautifully from what seemed to be two broken front legs, one’s gone all rapey, one’s taken to turning up less frequently and going off and doing her own thing. There are naturally new kittens, and my cycle of warping the feline ecological system of wherever I go continues. I feel like I shouldn’t be attached, or as attached, given the fact that I might be leaving them for a smaller, cheaper apartment located next to my new office. I’m mortally afraid of being the girl who continues to live in the expensive far away apartment because of the cats she feeds. I reason that I will find animals who need me wherever I go. It doesn’t help that I left for two weeks and returned to a cat with two broken front legs. Which improved dramatically (knock on wood) post regular feeding. I think eventually it all comes down to the feeling of having some one looking out for you. Kisses and someone to come find you when you disappear.

2012-01-09T19:41:00.001+05:30

'There is an inordinate capacity in institutions, whether governments, universities, publishers, or studios, to turn pretty good wine, vintage or not, into distilled water that they hope everyone will want to drink. You have to hold out for the wine, even blood, nights that are actually dark, bears that aren't teddy, gritty women like you actually know, children who die contorted into question marks, the sun on people who never bought lotion, the human voice not reduced to prattle, animals who have never been watched, the man who cuts all the ropes so he won't hang himself.'

2012-01-07T17:09:00.003+05:30

it's been too long, internet. my brother keeps (lovingly) hounding me to write, but i don't think he means this blog. i'm watching 5 swarthy but v sweet south indian men clean my apartment, following which i will leap into the shower and go buy me a kindle. i'm not sure which mall i'm supposed to be going to and i've already racked up a history of going a very long way in the wrong direction for simple things (a tagline for my life if there ever was one). so yes, i'm going to write. eventually. but first i'm going to try and read and see if my ADD hasn't got so pronounced that i haven't been permanently reduced to someone who constantly watches old tv shows and perpetually refreshes all of two web pages. i'm going to get my kindle and see if i can try a disconnected life for a bit. it sounds both sweet and scary.

it's all been building up for far too long. who am i to hold back?

Playful Mouse Murphy

2011-10-16T19:22:00.000+05:30

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 :(

2011-09-05T23:36:00.000+05:30

"It came to me that every time I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart with them. And every new dog who comes into my life gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough, all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are."
--Unknown

2011-09-01T15:49:00.002+05:30

I am fresh out of things to say. I am deeply uninspired. Every day I check for tumours, because I can sense one lurking right below my skin. I am twenty five and weighed down by hidden tumours and visible malignancies. I exist only between books and cigarettes and half filled bottles of water.

I am slowly disappearing.

sometimes all i see is my horn in the way

2011-09-01T14:25:00.002+05:30

2011-08-17T16:57:00.002+05:30

i'm on my third piece of chewing gum since morning. cutting back on cigarettes blows.

never fuck a gift horse in the mouth

2011-08-04T15:05:00.000+05:30

The internet isn’t a sentient being, so I should probably stop starting every post by greeting the internet. But then neither is the universe and the universe and I talk all the time. INTERNET, HELLO.

This is my first Ramadan experience, despite coming from a country with one of the largest Muslim populations in the world. When I’m not marveling at my cultural ignorance, I’m in awe of the hardcore fasting people are capable of. Other than the standard no food / drink fast there are people who also don’t swallow for the entire period, with the basic idea being that nothing should go down your throat. Thirteen hours of nothing going down your throat. And the whole experience is meant to remind you of how insignificant you are, a lesson in humility and the awesomeness of the god you believe in.

I now live in Dubai (have I mentioned that here earlier?) and it’s illegal to eat / drink in a public place during this month. There’s a room somewhere in my office where non fasting employees can convene to eat / drink. I personally find the thought of going to some secret room, with the door closed and stuffing your face while a significant percentage of your fellow employees are fasting in remarkably poor taste. So I also end up not eating / drinking till I get home (reduced working hours means home at 4) and even though today’s only day 4, the whole thing has been a shocking realization of what a toxic sewer my insides are. It’s not that I’m hungry by the time I get home (which I am, but is manageable). It’s the nicotine, caffeine and aspartame cravings that give me migraines and reduce my brain to mulch, that are alarming. Apparently, I can NOT go hours without any of the three. Which makes me wonder how would I live on a deserted island / in a small city / on a farm. It’s a charmed solipsistic life I tells ya.

Can I revoke my invitation to my manfriend to visit me? The women here are too pretty, it’s a horrible mistake. I know I say that a lot (the thing about the pretty women), pretty much every time I travel. But seriously! Dubai is numero uno when it comes to the babeliness of its women. Other than the hordes of beautiful expats who’re flitting about the place looking fresh and lovely, the effect local women have on all who lay their eyes on the only visible bit of skin, their dignified, demure face surrounded by meters of black fabric, is pretty fucking damaging.

One of the kittens I feed has finally finally FINALLY decided that she can trust me and now every day at feeding time I get rubbed against in a manner that if not adorable would be downright perverted. I know I can’t take them home, because a) I’m not home much b) I don’t how long I am in Dubai, but it’s a thought that’s begun gnawing at my heart. Its easier when I put a ‘doing what’s best for them’ spin on it as I figure they’d be pretty miserable being locked into an empty flat for most of the day.

And to continue with the inane domestic roundub (I’m a diarist, not a blogger SEE) I got my lockjaw insurance claim from the evil insurance company. Considering this has been my first ever experience with any sort of insurance company and they coughed up as per process without any harassment (real or assumed) at all I should probably think a little more favourably of them. I’ve however been conditioned to think of insurance companies as the epitome of corporate evil (ho ho ho I work at one of the oldest MFing banks in the world) and was fully prepared to hand over my claim documents and stab the insurance rep in the scrotum.

In what I could consider to be supremely ironic, my brother has moved to the village (while I have moved out of the country). However, since he is my favourite human being I’m also super happy that he gets to enjoy beautiful weather and kickass coffee and very narrow roads and the sexism of the landlord community. Better there than in hotter parts of the country I say. And it’s too early but I’m already excited about my two week long trip back home in October. I can’t wait to get bitten and ignored by my own babies. I. Can. Not. Wait

I’m looking forward to the manfriend’s impending visit on so many levels. In the top three is the fact that I intend to constantly get wasted with him. Dipsomania aside, this visit is also very worrying and I want to keep you posted with daily updates of ‘god, how do I get him out of the house without seeming insane, considering the bitchfit I threw to get him to visit in the first place’ and ‘why must he snore all the time!’ and ‘is it okay if I start staying late at work to avoid him?’ but I can’t since he knows the link to my blog :(

xx

Murphy's a h8r

2011-07-11T00:12:00.002+05:30

For the record everything about Coke Studio irritates me. I'm not really sure why, and my irrational response probably shows that I'm a douche. This weekend I was hanging out at a friend's place. This friend and her boyfriend happen to be from Pakistan, and are very into douchey music like the doors. Besides this they listen to a lot of Pakistani music and had a whole bunch of Coke Studio on (I think it was Coke Studio at least, typically vaguely classical instruments, acoustic guitars and warbling). So I got to hear this song called saari raat (literal translation: all night) about this dude who's up all night wishing the worst for some person. There's a verse in there which actually says:

jab teri aankhein so jaye
aur teri yaadein kho jaye
tere tan main tere man main
tere ghar ko aag lag jaye
aur tujhe jaag na aaye

vague translation:

when your eyes fall asleep
and your memories are lost
in your body in your mind
your house should burn down
and you don't wake up

:O

Whoa, Coke Studio! What's with the intensely hate-filled songs? Needless to say, in my douchy tradition I've started listening to this ode to ill will and started vicariously enjoying the hate.

In other news tomorrow I'm attempting to drive to the hospital for my appointment. This will be my first time driving somewhere which isn't work or the mall, as mentioned earlier. I've got my GPS ready, though, GPS lady, I don't see how announcing 'in 750 meters get on the highway' is a useful instruction. The roads of Dubai are horrible where if you miss one turn you're halfway to Sharjah before you can turn around and fix it. So I really hope she's a little more useful tomorrow. And it also doesn't help that I had thai food for dinner, where my bravado made me ask for 'thai spicy' level of spicy and now I have a potentially upset stomach. The egg fried rice was rice, egg and red chillies. Red chillies EVERYWHERE. In a 5:1 ratio to all other ingeredients. God, I hate the GPS lady and the thai so much.

2011-07-08T19:13:00.003+05:30

my yoga place is shut because it's friday, i want to get drunk but then my brother won't let me drive to the mall at night to pick up thai food.

this weekend is fraught with conflict and choices.

cheap bastard Murphy

2011-07-07T14:58:00.001+05:30

Dudes. I’m so bored. I think I want to start applying to schools. I’m not even sure I want to do an MBA. Maybe an MSc in something gnarly like Finance or Agrarian Economics. I wrote that and went off to look at websites for business schools and now my head hurts. I don’t feel very competitive anymore, or maybe I’m just lazy and used to having a job where I turn up and they pay me and the thought of going to a business school and being surrounded by hypercompetitive ambitious types who are all trying to see who can get by on the least sleep is very very painful. Which is why I like the sound of a mellow MSc or MA. But nothing fruity, like my best friend’s soon to start course in Semiotics.

I think I’m just old and lazy.

I feel crabby and irritable. I’m not going to go on about how I’m surrounded by petty misers, because even I can realize that the problem clearly lies with me for surrounding myself and liking these petty cheap bastards, and what makes it so much worse, for going on whining about it. Fuck ‘em and fuck whining. From now on, there will be only chillaxing and chillaxing to the max.

I’m going home for two weeks in October and I’m already thinking about who among these people here do I trust enough to leave my plants with. The obvious answer to the question is also probably traveling at the time. My plants are kind of fussy. The place that I bought them from gave explicit instructions to water them only once a week. That sounded wrong to me, but considering I have no prior flora related experience, I shrugged and tried it. On the second day itself I could see immediate droopage. So I started watering daily, but that didn’t help. I tried moving the plants around and that didn’t help, if I’d left them out on the balcony they’d have charred to a crisp. So I finally figured out the perfect schedule, water them every alternate day and leave them during the day on the ledge next to my window-wall, so they get sunlight all day. Then in the evening, my paranoid / super smart brother forces me to pick them all up and move them out of my room because I sleep with the door closed and will apparently die of carbon dioxide poisoning.

So, BASICALLY, I need to figure out who I trust enough to make sure my precious plants don’t wilt. Otherwise I’m going to have to lug them to India with me. Where my cats will promptly tear them to shreds and sit on them.

**

I’ve just returned from a super quick lunch at home with my brother. An advantage of living practically next door to work. I’m very ready to put in the remaining 5 odd hours here and get a move on this weekend. This weekend I’m ready to get vaguely acquainted with the city and its very confusing roads. Couple of days ago I had a day off and had errands to run and actually left my car at home and took a cab because I couldn’t even fathom driving around the city and actually getting where I wanted to go. So far the car has only been to my office, the mall and home. All three locations are within a 2 kilometer distance, so that’s something that clearly needs to be worked on.

From somewhere on the internet: ‘it is actually urgent that we connect with the world, not hide from it with drink or drugs or television or literary skill; that paying attention to nothing but the movie inside one’s head will ultimately kill you’

I’m evidently a diarist, here. Calling people names and pasting random stuff off the internet.

2011-07-02T20:09:00.004+05:30

the fan on my newish macbook pro made a scary sound and altogether stopped today. it restarted, but has left me nervous, like a concerned parent whose kid has just coughed up blood. luckily my child is still within warranty.

i continue to maintain a delicate relationship with the truth. i choose to ignore certain truths about me. i get enraged at the fact that some people insist on lying to me. and they lie, how they lie. everyday, with shamelessly straight faces (fonts?). i tell myself it doesn't matter, everyone doesn't need to share everything, but i'd like to have defined rules which say that some people do.

i just had a three day weekend, a very successful three day weekend. i slept a lot, wasn't irritated once and felt calm throughout. i cleaned and cooked and oiled my hair. did i tell you about my bedroom? one of my walls is a giant window and my view is of the desert with a number of skyscrapers and an artifical / man made bay. it's the strangest kind of beautiful, i never knew i could find a combination of greys, blues and dust pretty.

my mother wants me to buy a four wheel drive. a big, sturdy car that will keep me safe. a) i don't have the money b) i don't want to take a loan and get stuck here paying it off c) i don't know if i can drive a truck. dubai feels like the most unstable city in the world. everyone is here with a very short term plan in mind, it's like the world's one night stand. everyone's cut off from their definition of normal and the mangoes here have no smell. everyone's struggling, the local emirati women take loans every time they leave the country so they can buy designer clothes / bags / shoes / perfumes. there is nothing holding any of us down.

the more time i spend here, the more disconnected i feel. i can't tell if i'm being paranoid or if its my intuition. i have no trust left, i'm just driving around, going to work and learning how to cook.

who's going to save the world tonight?

2011-06-23T21:37:00.000+05:30

:|

2011-06-17T17:11:00.000+05:30

Desire! Desire! I have too dearly bought,
With price of mangled mind, thy worthless ware

thursday hurrah

2011-06-16T23:31:00.003+05:30

I have failed as a woman.

Today I had to throw out 5 cucumbers that had been completely consumed by fungus, to the extent that they'd become practically liquid; a jar of beautiful olives stuffed with feta cheese that I'd ambitiously opened and not consumed for a while. I've thrown tomatoes, some really beautiful red grapes, an onion, an orange, a yellow capsicum, an opened and forgotten tin of cooked and salted broad beans (rajma) and just had my brother cut up about 6 musambis (what are they called in English?) because I was worried they might not get consumed otherwise. My enthusiasm for grocery shopping does me in, every time I'm in the fresh produce / vegetables section I'm rushing around with this image of me in my head, cooking nutritious, delicious, simple meals. This week my dinners on different occasions have been:
- doritos
- cup noodles
- a red velvet cupcake
- a cheese omelette and toast
- twizzlers
And the beautiful vegetables I keep buying keep dying. I could buy smaller quantities but at the time of my purchases I'm Julia Child in my head. I need 9 cucumbers. I am a conglomerate heap of trash, and not one that burns with a bright flame.

Every Thursday night, my sense of triumph on having simply lived through the week is incredible. I like to think that my weekend ahead of me will be productive in ways that I want them to be. The paintings I got from India remain unframed, the mess on my dressing table that I keep meaning to clean stays where it is. I consider my weekend successful if I manage to have a successful nap. By Saturday night, I've sort of acquiesced, and I sit in my quiet defeat waiting for the new week to start, so I can constantly dodge whatever comes my way, and just make it through to another weekend. I remain concerned that on having to actually spend time with the very old man, and I mean spend time in real, normal people, human terms and not in some escapist lost weekend way; I will be completely horrible to him. Worse, I will remorselessly be horrible to him. As my brother pointed out, I'm horrible to every one. I have a vicious temper and am often driven by the need to ensure that the other person in the room has fully understood the depths of my irritation. This is my week. I am made to understand that other women somehow find the time (from their versions of living through the week and living with rotting vegetables) to be pretty and vibrant and interesting. And they are not jerks either.

It's the weekend, internet, it's the weekend.

deficit of darkness

2011-06-12T16:42:00.001+05:30

My week’s started by waking up at 6 AM to come in to work on a slide (note erstwhile colleagues, I said ‘slide’, singular, not 60 slides). I can only marvel over the degree of ineptitude that allows three women to cluck over one slide, and get lost in a mire of version control and lost changes. Over a single slide, with three tables. Universe, give me the strength to arrange my facial features into an expression of adequate concern and interest, and to keep them sufficiently grave.
You might want to think about my tendency to belittle everything I do at work, future potential employers. I’m an asset to any team!

It’s the start of my week and thanks to my brother and to a hectic yet chilled out weekend I’m coveting all careers where I can work from home. I also want to wake up in a leisurely manner, have coffee and pad thai for breakfast and not spend 60 minutes on one slide. I want afternoon delights and one of those pedicure / massage ladies who come home (but not for the purpose of nooners). There is a deficit of darkness in this city. There are a hundred odd sky scrapers in my neighbourhood, I’m on the 15th floor. The city is constantly lit up like a slot machine, I have to draw my curtains to get some semblance of darkness, but there’s still enough light for me to see outlines of everything. There’s a lovely mezzanine floor with trees and plants and a family of cats that I feed. I’m usually there around 10 PM and there are halogen lamps, burning brightly, everywhere. I can’t remember the last time I saw darkness.

I saw all of Bored to Death over the weekend. I wish I’d spend my time reading, rather than compulsively watching TV shows and movies. I’ve bought a few more books, after getting my hands on a billion e books (kindle books?) and carting some of mine all the way over. It’s strange but I’ve already started looking at everything in my apartment from the perspective of how difficult it will be to pack it all up and take it with me, to wherever I’m going. As a person I feel defined by my purchases, and I will need to take all my new plates and cushions and plants with me, if I were to leave the country. I just got here, why am I already worrying about how I’ll pack everything up? But how will I, the weight of everything will be a couple of hundred odd kilos. I’m not going anywhere, I just got here.

I’m embarking on an experiment that makes me a little uncomfortable but also sounds very right. I get the impression I might be jumping the shark (fonz reference, cuz I’m cool like that). I can’t tell if I’m forcing developments onto my life or if I’m fixing something that ought to have been fixed a while back. I know I thought I was going to die a while back and that I think I’ve got this new calm perspective but I sincerely hope I’m not fucking around here. You open up your life to such a large input / variable only if you can’t perceive an alternative. I don’t know if I have alternatives. I recently overdid the cigarette smoking and now I feel like I can’t take inhale deeply. If you’re slowly coming unhinged and can’t take deep breaths what do you do.

It bothers me that I can’t quite express the sense of danger here. I’m a chain smoking fool whose lungs can’t take complete breaths any more, but it’s the man who I think is dangerous.

2011-06-06T23:52:00.002+05:30

the sun is so bright that if i go driving in the morning without my dark glasses on i can't see clearly for the rest of the day. i have to keep squinting and feel like my glasses are inadequate (btw, i'm kinda almost blind). i spent a weekend where i was out in the sun for about half an hour on two separate days. today i can see the tiny, microscopic lines its leaving on my forehead. could it be that and the new smoking all you want, when you want lifestyle? its really unbelievably bright here.

working for a friend is very hard. i'm not as professional as i thought i was and i need an attitude change. or a new job. i also need to not smack my driving instructor, despite her racist prattle and poorly disguised threats pertaining to my imminent assessment.

i just got here. i really like my flat, it's taken a lot of work. i'm very happy here at the moment, because my brother's staying with me for a while. those of you paying attention will remember he's my second favourite person in the world (after the Cat). so my flat is morphing into something that looks and feels a lot like home, as much as a place without my babies can be. i miss home but this place gives me space. though most of the time i don't need or want any space, living in a desert in a room so you can do a job that has already begun to increasingly irritate you doesn't make a lot of sense. i smoke too much, i can feel a tightness in my chest already. i shouldn't write this like this, half asleep, leaning against my pillows completely slanted, partly sullen.

the only people i like at work are already leaving. everyone else is boring. their lives (which i know nothing about) astound me, their trivial concerns, their self absorbed, limited world view makes me sick. working with women is a horrible experience if you're also female. it's incredible the depths they will fall to, the things they will do to make themselves feel the slightest bit better about themselves, their completely limited and short term vision and their appalling managerial skills. i wish i didn't know so many pathetic women. i wish i didn't hate myself for thinking that they're like this because maybe beyond a point, beyond a certain age if you're single it becomes a crippling / overwhelming / debilitating force in your life, unconsciously affecting everything you do. i wish i didn't hate myself for thinking that this constant need for approval, for being the superfunsuperenergetic person you're not wouldn't be around if you were getting laid more often.

i know that some of you reading this will be surprised / mad at me for this corrosive nastiness. i can't help it, i couldn't write for ages and every time i stop saying what i'm thinking here i can't say anything at all. this is my opinion and i stand by it, unfortunately.

maybe i'll utilise this time the way bukowski did for post office. maybe i'll eventually figure out how to correctly apply weights to the weighted average that is my happiness. my flat, my absence of cats, my brother, my lack of clarity and absence of plans, my non existent driving skills.

bone-dead sorrows
like starfish washed ashore

Battling with mortality Murphy

2011-06-01T14:18:00.001+05:30

Today I woke up with the distinct feeling that I’m going to die.

I normally wake up very slowly, and remain sleepy for a while after. I have to get out of bed quickly if I want to make sure I’m getting a move on my day. Today I woke up and it felt like I’d been awake for a while. The thought came to me that today might be the day. My first reaction was that I should walk carefully, particularly on roads. I’m notoriously, sometimes life – threateningly uncoordinated. I immediately texted all the important people something sappy; my mother (who I was fighting with as of yesterday) since for me the parents are a unit, and texting her is like texting both of them; Listo, who I’d been having a semi bummer conversation with last night. My brother was sleeping in the next room, so I asked him about his work. I think he’s questioning whether sticking to doing his own thing is sensible and I want him to know that he can’t possibly quit now after coming so far. And the most important one, who I can’t text, who’s always the wallpaper of my phone and computer.

So yeah, dying. It didn’t make me feel sad or anything. Everything felt very still and muted and irrelevant around me, it still does, and I’m so aware of my beating heart. And even though I’m aware how stupid this post is making me sound, I feel very chilled out. I might die today and who wants to die stressed out or sullen or convinced they’re obese? It’s going to happen eventually and this is the first time I’ve actually thought about it. I’m such a lame cliché, a month after turning 25 I’m dealing with the realization of my own mortality. Interestingly enough it doesn’t make me feel like being a better person or anything. I’m only very aware of what an astounding feat the human body, my body is. Beating heart, moving around, seeing, breathing, alive alive alive, with life being held inside by my toes and fingers.

Internet, we’re all alive. What do we do about it?

2011-05-20T13:02:00.002+05:30

11:30 AM on the first day of this weekend and i'm in bed and i have lockjaw but don't qualify for emergency services. i have a sink full of dirty dishes that are depriving me of sleep. i didn't touch them last night in the hope that i could prove a point to myself that i'm not one of those women, who let dirty dishes bother them. but they do, they do, i can feel their presence almost as if something were lodged under my spine.

my brother's coming tonight and staying with me for a while :) i don't know why i thought moving would change anything. the love in ones life remains a constant, for which i am very grateful. except that i don't get to see my babies.

i turned 25. it feels like i'm on an irreversible march towards greater foolishness, larger mistakes, and hopefully significant pay offs.

2011-04-24T18:44:00.001+05:30

I live here now. I have a house, with curtains and plates and food and a lot of plans. My father flew over to help me move and to help me do the millions of things you need to do to be able to say you live somewhere. All I had to do was pick what colour, what type, fuss about how tired I am and demand we take breaks and pay. I’ve realized how addictive living alone is, how just the presence of another person completely throws me off and makes me a little sullen. I’m hoping that’s not going to be the case for life, but I’m wondering if it would be a bad thing.
I wish I could convert the good intentions of my mornings into reality. I’ve watched so much TV since I got here. I’ve become addicted to nicotine. I haven’t felt fickle in a while. Reckless and irresponsible, yes, fickle, no. I’m turning 25, after which nothing will seem fresh or new. I should really stop doing this, all my previous posts here saying ‘I’m turning 21 / 22 / 23/ 24. Oh no!’ seem so stupid. I have no routine so far but I feel a little stagnant. I haven’t felt a great passion in a while, it seems like a lot of effort. The closest I came was all 5 seasons of Dexter, oh god, what is happening to me?

2011-04-20T23:47:00.002+05:30

It feels like I've forgotten how to write complete sentences, that actually say things. Living in a tacky, abortive city seems to make every thought other than basic operation seem strange and out of place. I'm struggling here.

Writers + cats

2011-04-20T22:57:00.001+05:30

Everyone. Stop what you're doing, get some coffee and go through http://writersandkitties.tumblr.com/

2011-04-17T22:08:00.000+05:30

la la la la la la la la la : D

2011-04-14T16:59:00.001+05:30

I feel completely lousy. I haven’t felt like a bad person in a while. Since I moved here I’ve been existing in some sort of frivolous bubble, where the decisions I make, the money I spend, the way I choose to conduct myself don’t really matter because it’s just me here, I live by myself, I spend my money on only myself, I’m responsible to no one. Today I pulled a complete dick move which has made life significantly harder for some people. I was set to make a fairly important decision involving a fairly large amount of money, without giving it adequate thought or doing my basic due diligence. I made foolish commitments which I should really not have done. I should have stopped and thought about it a little longer. I didn’t realize anything was wrong till said people tried to shortchange me a little and I called off the whole thing. I was incredibly lucky to have a standby (my first option, the first one I fell in love with) which was still available to me. But my calling off the whole thing was incredibly uncool, because my reasons for it were mostly my sudden realization of what I was getting into and not the attempted fuckery, which I could have handled.

Even though I don’t want to, and very often actively try not to, believe in karma I’m sure my comeuppance is around the corner. I feel like a complete asshole and think it’s so unfair that I get to walk away, unaffected, towards a completely awesome option and fuck these people over in the process. If someone did this sort of thing to me I’d be completely pissed and start questioning whether there’s any honour left in the world, when it seems that the paucity’s a little closer to home.

Universe, don’t fuck with the people that matter to me as part of your retribution okay? Please direct all smiting towards me.

Where every fucking sentence starts with I or my. Geez.

2011-04-09T15:41:00.003+05:30

I stop following the news and all sorts of disturbing shit starts happening. Portugal? Another level of unaccountable government in India getting support from douches like Farah Khan and Vishal Dadlani? I hate finding out about things after they've happened, makes me feel like I dropped the ball and *let* it happen.

So I'm slacking off on my holding the world up with my bare hands duties because I'm too busy being lulled into the most relaxing coma by the sounds of my washing machine. If I were a therapist this is what I'd want playing in the background while my patients prattle on about soliciting prostitutes and secretly cutting locks of women's hair. (I almost wrote storing women in tanks of formaldehyde, clearly I need to cut back on Dexter). I'm slowly getting the hang of this living by yourself and not feeding yourself chinese food all the time and not having to go get groceries every single day thing. I'm most pleased to announce that i have an apartment! Which is way out of my budget but I got sick of wondering what's right for me and what are things I don't want to compromise on. Because, dudes, I have no idea what's right for me, I just got here! So I'm going with what I want, and apparently what I want is a beautiful apartment which has a ton of light, the most insane view of the city (from the 18th floor), really nice vibes, an incredibly well equipped gym, a beautiful pool, a supermarket and coffee shop right downstairs in the same building, a bank and a subway outlet in the next building and the dubai mall down the road. I will need to get a car eventually, but I'm not going to start thinking about that right now.

Something that led to this decision is my complete suckitude at dealing with brokers. I couldn't do the whole 'call and be vague and casual' and 'don't call till he calls, you'll seem desperate' thing. It just made me very nervous and I kept thinking 'noooo but what if he passes on me and gives it to someone else! then all will be lost!' It never occurred to me to play these casual calling and not calling first because it means admitting defeat thing with guys and I did fairly okay with the gentlemens. (hi gentlemens!) It was a huge relief to say 'fuck you brokerman' and deal directly with the nicest franco - egyptian couple.

I don't know, maybe it would have gone very differently if I had my sister or dad or listo with me. Anyone who could have bargained on my behalf and talked me into making a sensible deal. Serve you all right, for letting me loose on the city alone. Hah.

In other news, I'm really enjoying work. The concept of actual work life balance is fantastic, my efficiency is better, which makes me very happy. I miss my cats and keep having crazy dreams and seem to have completely lost the ability to sleep in. My brain keeps torturing me with constant thoughts of things I need to get done and just won't let me sleep. Goes to show that all women are deranged harpies who can at best only play vaguely at sanity or reason.

2011-03-31T17:35:00.000+05:30

Good things to report. Firstly, my very first thank god it’s Thursday. It’s quarter to 4 and I can’t wait for the weekend to start. These two hours and fifteen minutes need to go by really quickly. Secondly, I realized the purpose of the hot water switch outside my loo. Murphy the genius savant. Lastly, and I add this only to pander to certain sections, India reached the World Cup finals! Though , honestly, the India Pakistan match set me off on some sort of depressive spiral of self pity. I felt incredibly left out and far away and miserable and like I couldn’t talk to any one. Well I don’t think I would have been audible over the sounds of the crazed cheering and merry making for what it’s worth. I’m a loneliness rookie and I’m working on it.

This weekend promises exciting forays into adulthood such as my first load of laundry. What happens, internet, if I put my formal pants into the washer and drier? What happens if I wash them by hand and attempt only using the drier and accidentally set off the washer? What if they come out smelling funny? Watch this space for updates. I’m toying with the idea of actually cooking something. Y’know, other than eggs and salad. Or maybe I’ll just do nothing and vegetate and feel sorry for myself and order in Chinese food over and over. Maybe I’ll get around to catching up with my friends who were expecting long, detailed, updates and got a ‘all good. v tired. will mail soon’ mail. I’m charming like that.

What I really want to do is go buy sneakers and a swim cap and start utilizing all the fancy sports facilities my hotel has to offer. I can buy the cap. That’s not exactly a significant expense, right? (The danger in this case is the moment I walk into a store I start finding important things that I *really really* need. Like yesterday it took a lot of talking myself off the ledge to not end up going home with a kilo of green bananas. Hey. It was a co-op. They’re cheaper in bulk. And I like eating bananas at work, like I’m sort of daring people to watch with a straight face) And I have my converse sneakers with me anyway.

I miss my babies. I’m hopefully going to stop writing that in every blog post and thinking it constantly soon. I hope they’re not missing me and are chillaxing and being decadent. I miss Leonard Cohen and harbour deranged illusions of beginning to write beautiful poetry like him, to document my current loneliness. Which sets in only post 8 PM. I’ll write topically beautiful poetry and spend the rest of the time writing junk about arab bananas. Which are the same as Indian bananas, only strangely harder to peel.

I hate snotty women. Almost as much as drunk women. Who wants to visit me and buy me liquor at the duty free? Since I can’t ask my dad. Who wants my limitless undying love? RAISE YOUR HANDS.

Faux mallu Murphy

2011-03-29T17:13:00.004+05:30

Apparently you do.
Murphy's moved. And living in a very strange city. I figured it was worth a shot to see if I could update my blog from work (think of all the countless hours of pretending to type something official and productive! think of all the post lunch drowsiness abated!) and voila. Et moi. Mostly, I got sick of looking up apartments online. I hate not having any idea about where all these places are and what's a good deal and what's not and whether paying more for a furnished place makes more sense or getting a place cheaper and getting furniture. I got sick of looking at numbers which don't mean anything because I can't multiply by 12 in my head. So I was being very dutiful and looking and looking and nodding at certain offers and bookmarking some. But I have no fucking clue what I'm doing.

This city is very strange. I'm not going to get into the ways and means of its strangeness because that would be very boring. I will however say that I think its making me see through materialism, for the first time in my extremely vapid life. I can't multiply and divide by 12 but I can't help but divide by 4, the cost of one packet of glucose biscuits, subsistence for one doggie for one whole day. And the cumulative worth of the handbags in my team of 4 alone could feed a dog for 123 years. Years, internet. Maybe I just really miss my babies.

Things are a little disorienting, internet. I miss my family and my babies and my very old man. But I'm also strangely happy. If only a furnished, one bedroom, close to my place of work, has a gym + pool, has kitchen appliances, isn't more than 50k dhirams apartment could magically fall into my lap I'd be completely happy.
Well, not completely, but close.

PS: also, if subway could have more than two vegetarian sandwiches that would be swell.

2011-03-29T17:11:00.000+05:30

Test test. Does one trust the firewall of an organisation that allows access to blogger but not actual blogs?

2011-03-19T22:04:00.002+05:30

My "boyfriend" is out being a metal scene nerd at some show, there's a hazy super moon in the sky, the brilliant new 30 rock has been seen twice and I'm bored for the first time today. Unemployed and about-to-leave-the-country-so-extra-appreciative-of-everything bored is the best best kind of bored there is, and I hope you too get to experience it sometime soon.

xoxo

Lucky lucky

2011-03-17T01:37:00.002+05:30

I'm going to have to do a runner from the country any day now. I need to still buy a large suitcase and put all my things in it, I need to buy stockings, I need to buy a tiny pressure cooker (because I'm told it can do ANYTHING), I need to pack another suitcase full of things which will follow me later. It's 1:45 AM and as I'm typing this I can hear a crazy bird twittering away. The only rational explanation would be that its woken up from a nightmare. Aw, tiny bird nightmares. Forgive me universe, for unfairly tilting the scale in the favour of my cats and for providing tiny birds with unnecessary stress. I've thought about it a lot and in case I genuinely am fucking up the ecological hierarchy and balance of my neighbourhood by giving the predators with the vicious claws an unnatural advantage, then it should be added to my karm tally. I'm sorry for your tiny bird nightmares, little bird :(

See? I don't update for so long and I still don't lose the art of the classic Murphy incoherent digression. Like I was saying, I'm getting on a jet plane some time soon. My work wardrobe now consists of only white, black and grey. And navy blue for when I'm feeling particularly rock n roll. I'd love to tell you how I feel about this move, but to be honest I haven't thought about it so far and I really don't intend to start any time soon. Maybe on the plane. I'm doing practically nothing nowadays except just *being at home* and hanging out with my family and babies. I feel completely happy and content and rested. I feel immense gratitude for the life my family has had so far and for the kind of life I've been lucky enough to live. When I get completely blitzed, or blitzed as poland as I fortunately was today, I get to think in peace (and I think of everything. it's my favourite thinking) and today I thought about everyone I have loved and how different they all are. I'm not going to go completely gay on you, internet, but I wish you could have seen them. I wish you could see how the violence between us seems like the most tender act of love.

I should really stop here, before you barf all over my blog. Fine. Just saying is all.

Hey, Kafka!

2011-03-13T23:05:00.005+05:30

tonight,
in this very dark
night,
looking out the window
at the lights in the
harbor,
there's very little to think about or
do.

I smile, looking at
my hands --
I always had small
hands.

now
day by day
they seem to be
growing
larger.

is it some type of terrible
disease?

alone in the room
I laugh
loudly
at the thought of
my hands
growing so
LARGE
that they can't
fit all of me
into my
casket.

what a delightful frightening
thought!

"what's wrong with this
son of a bitch? his
hands are the size of
his body!"

then
I forget all that and
look out at the lights
again.

- C. Bukowski

ek dum deep thoughts

2011-03-13T16:18:00.002+05:30

- i've been unemployed for over a month
- i'm having the best time at home. la la la
- i love reading people's blogs and EVERYONE is completely slacking. there is nothing fun or interesting for me to read, and i get that fun and interesting people are too busy being fun and interesting, but still, no fair.
- let's get our act together, internet. let's do this with some feel.

Berozgaar Murphy

2011-02-22T23:41:00.000+05:30

Baby let's go back, back to the way we were.

2010-11-08T19:07:00.001+05:30

I think I’m really over this blog. It annoys me immensely. It seems to be some sort of bloated caricature of the nitwit in me, which is the only part of me that seems to end up here. The flippant, unendingly whiny monster on these pages is not me. The cathartic thing to do, to allow simple words to simply say what I want to, would be to delete the whole thing and move on. Moving on seems to have become a lot harder than it was earlier. Life is easier when you’re in constant motion, never really staying in one place too long, not letting anything touch you completely. In the latter half of my teens my main concern was the inability to stay put and be in one place wholly. Now in hindsight it seems like some sort of inherent wisdom, now that I seem to be completely stagnant, very firmly lodged in the quicksand of a job that doesn’t interest me anymore but throws money at me every time I even begin to think about it, a number of important relationships undergoing awful changes and causing infinite stress and heartache, a city that I love but can’t seem to leave for anything.

It was Joni Mitchell’s 67th birthday yesterday and I spent time going through old photos and music, all backed up safely on ancient hard drives. I spoke to an old friend, very far away, who seems to not have changed in any manner. She continues to live from experience to experience and doesn’t feel the need to have any sort of long term continuity. She has a job ‘till December’ and wants to find another one in Geneva, only because she likes the city. I’ve forgotten what it is to live like that; with your heart constantly so full that it might burst any minute. I haven’t heard my music in years, though I did last night. It made me feel so afraid to realize that nothing’s changed, that I can feel like the same person just as easily, that I can disappear overnight.

This blog annoys me, because there is nothing being said. I seem to be surrounded by nothing being said, by deeply personal and important relationships which pay emphasis on social niceties and zero balls. It’s disappointing internet. My choices disappoint me, I don’t understand why I would choose to live like this where everything is a weak replica of what it could and should be. I don’t understand the need to engage from a distance but never fully participate. I don’t understand most of it and nothing enrages me as much as not understanding something. Nothing infuriates me as much as the condescending manner in which people attempt ‘managing’ me and the way in which I don’t say anything and roll my eyes and ignore it. The fact that I allow it only reminds me that I probably don’t care enough to correct the situation, I’m not too concerned with outcomes, only engaging never participating. This blog (poor thing) has become some sort of symbol for all of this. Mildly entertaining bullshit, periodic meaningless angst, very little real insight, infinite smokescreens. What would you do, internet, if you were in my place?

- A

2010-10-30T14:05:00.002+05:30

I'm going to pimp a blog on my blog roll, which I just spent a whole lot of my Saturday morning on (when I should have been studying). Go to beelzebug if you're interested in seeing some very cool photos which seem to be strangely alive and macabre and breathing. Go for the photos of the world that we know is out there but somehow don't manage to see for ourselves. Go to feel reassured and disturbed and feel untalented and mediocre. Go, go!

Scut Monkey Murphy

2010-10-29T20:00:00.002+05:30

Been a while, internet. I’m reporting to you live from the eye of the storm. At least it feels like that today. (I’m also reporting to you live from work where there’s a super buff new piece of meat who keeps making nervous eye contact with me like he thinks I’m more important around here than a scut monkey. If only he knew, internet. Nonetheless I will use his ignorance to establish who’s the sexual alpha dog) It’s been one hell of a busy month (said the girl who blogs from work) with more happening than I can remember. And it’s only going to get infinitely more taxing as the triple threat combination of work, best friend’s wedding, and very difficult costing exam all come together as a joyful holiday season clusterfuck. We’re not including family and friends and luuurve in this list because that’s life and pretty much the list of things that give Murphy joy and purpose and no stress whatsoever.

I’m back at work after 6 days of travel and it feels very similar to the trauma of getting back to school after summer vacation, with immediate exams to boot. I’m cranky and irritable and want to just slouch in my chair and do no work and unabashedly be the worst employee ever. And make no eye contact and scowl if yelled at and eat lots of ice cream and jerk off in the loos and take very long smoke breaks. I’ve returned to classic bullshit passive aggressiveness from dudes with tiny wieners and it really doesn’t help. I have my CV made on Excel, internet. I need someone to format it for me so I may once again be excited about work. It doesn’t help that I’m getting mails from our ‘Women’s Network’ on stress management, which asks for 45 minutes of time spent on a weekday learning how to ‘meditate and do yoga to better handle the stress imposed on us by our busy lives and jobs.’ Will learning how to touch my toes without bending my knees not make me want to chain smoke at my work station, internet?

In other news, I was in Bangalore this past week, celebrating a birthday! Yay birthday! Celebrations involved crawling into the most comfortable cocoon ever and just staying put for the entire time I was in town. It also involved the consumption of copious amounts of pasta and mushrooms, some very gay sleeping with a very warm body, and a deplorable lack of oral and dental hygiene. That’s the problem with cocoons. They’re fairly dangerous. People lose friends to them, people lose perspective on their reality to them, they gain weight eating cheese and pastas in white sauce in them. But I’m out safe now, slowly regaining my tenuous grip on reality and I can safely tell you it’s a total bummer. I have to ask internet, is living in a cocoon an option? Is it healthy? Is this the kind of question crack addicts ask before their first time? My mood is strangely peaceful. I’m happy when I’m at home during the day and evening, impatient and cribby at work, reflective and bummed out during my commute and bummed out at night in bed. And the only way I can think of describing this strange status is as peaceful. I worry a lot, because I believe I’m guilty of treachery, I’m not thinking about consequences, I’m just cramming experiences and warm memories into some sort of box that I’ll store under my bed. Does love spoil? Rot like a fruit gone bad? I’ve had an apple in my handbag for more than two weeks and it’s still firm and crisp as ever and my bag smells deliciously like apples.

*Murphy is weighed down by her organs and fruit that she has no intentions of eating. Hopefully they won’t kill her, the organs or the uneaten fruit*

2010-10-19T19:07:00.002+05:30

Correction. It's 18 pairs of shoes, since I forgot my sneakers. 19 if you count the silver shoes with 4 inch heels that leave me crippled in 40 minutes.

Hegemony smash

2010-10-18T19:01:00.002+05:30

(written in the morning at work, but posted in the evening. For some reason IT feels the need to block blogspot while allowing facebook access *sigh* )

Do people think I’m rude for not replying to all the nice comments? I mostly believe I’m being trolled, so think it wouldn’t do to dignify them with responses. Plus I don’t even know what everyone is reading here, all I see are disconnected, abortive entries written in fifteen minute snatches of time. I woke up this morning to a massively long email on my blackberry from the friend getting married, explaining all the things that I didn’t ask, going on and on about how she’s thought through the entire quasi abandoning her parents and her country thing. She’s one of my two closest friends, but that was the worst possible way to start my day (and I’m saying this at 8:39 AM). And in true asshole style, I replied saying ‘let’s just stop talking about this, I’m completely sick of it.’

Don’t invite me to your weddings, folks. Unless you need a non supportive type around who’ll spot all your insecurities and weaknesses and press those buttons. And when you work your issues out in your head and try and explain, will say ‘we’re still talking about this shit? Bo-ring.’

I’m not completely sure whether I’m mad that she wants so little for her life or jealous. It really annoys me that I can’t get completely on board till I’m convinced. And because of my very comprehensive laundry list of reasons of why I don’t think this marriage is a good idea right now, I will continue to act like an asshole. If not in this clearly apparent way, then by not getting completely involved and excited. Which is heart breaking because this is one of the most important people in the world to me, and it’s all I can do to just get myself to behave. And not that I need to fill you in, internet, but I’ve had this conversation with her. When I was in Udaipur, that’s all we did, except our version of the conversation was full of shouting and tears (on her part) and lots of hitting below the belt. And now there’s 35 days left and I’m just going to continue trying not to be an asshole, okay?

Whether it was waking up to the stupid email or otherwise, I’m completely overwhelmed this morning *crosses fingers and chants ‘menses, menses, menses’* But I did see a truck full of soldiers on my way to work. Men in uniform, is there anything hotter? *’menses, menses, menses’* I’m terrified at the moment. I have this completely overwhelming horrible, irrational fear that I refuse to articulate till it’s safe for me to do so. It’s given me a lot of perspective and also made me realize the only person I think of in such times is my mother. That should indicate the level of debilitation we’re talking about, that all I want is my mother.

I’m traveling for a week in 4 days time and my productivity has completely plummeted in anticipation. I don’t think I can survive a whole 8 hours of ‘work’ but I also have a lot to do. I toy with the idea of allowing myself an entirely useless day, where I just fuck around till it’s time to go home. I constantly sense that my priorities are changing but immediately come back to craving the kind of serenity that comes with limited human relationships, barring ones cats and family. I really want to be able to completely switch off at any one aspect of my life, and keep wishing that could be work. This is a terrible thing to be writing before 10 AM on a Monday morning while at work.

As much as I love the completely silent hours in the office in the morning, I miss studying and having time to myself. I hate that I feel like there are things I can and can’t do for whatever reasons. I don’t particularly care for the self – doubt and laziness either. Fucking hell, internet! All I wanted was to say I’m sorry for not feeding the trolls and look at the epic of early morning whining that this post has become. To compensate I feel the need to tell you that a certain manager in my team is currently in the simultaneous process of quitting and getting hair plugs. I imagine the sex is very good in the short manager household as a result of this surge in self esteem.

Today morning in the loos at work there was a woman talking on the phone. She was saying things like ‘It’s a huge responsibility. He can’t expect you to not have reservations going in. I mean, it’ll change your whole life, everything will be about it! Everything will revolve around it! You won’t be able to hang out again with us, you’ll never have any free time!’ So I also thought, oh wow, she’s maybe having a baby, right? Turns out she was talking about taking on a new project from an existing client. I feel fettered by my gender here. Like lugging around labia and a vagina is fucking things up for me in some secret chimerical way that I can’t quite tell. The Murphy with ONLY 16 pairs of shoes longs for a genderless future of standard issue silver flight-suits and a blanket ban on free will and individuality.

Murphy is the last person on the planet who hasn't done it

2010-10-04T15:31:00.002+05:30

My blackberry has sort of ruined me. I type ‘Im’ instead of ‘I’m’ and expect an omniscient auto-correct to swoop in and fix things magically. Today’s been a day of all sorts of things working out. A highly distraught friend who wasn’t speaking to me for no real fault of mine (and no real reason at that) is talking to me again. I suspect this is only because she’s so overwrought that she’ll settle for anyone to talk to, but I’ll take what I can get. My best friend is getting married in less than two months and I have an exam at about the same time. So up till today I was constantly hovering around the website, waiting for the date-sheet to be announced, because I couldn’t miss her wedding for some stupid exam. At the same time I couldn’t exactly not take it, it’s a fairly important exam and kind of a big deal (I’m certain my parents would at least think so). But today I found out that my exam is after the wedding, but during the wedding week. In fact it finishes a couple of hours before her reception starts, which should give me enough time to get to the venue in rush hour traffic and somehow change into a sari and heels and get my hair sorted and look super hot. But it’ll be one of those things where I need to have studied well enough to be able to take a week off right before the exam for some hard core, life altering shaadi prep. Did I mention it’s a really difficult exam? But I’m really really relieved that it’s not on the same day as the wedding, that’s a major source of stress avoided right there.

I’ve finally got around to telling my dad to get my book for me, I’ve managed to hunt down a document my aunt had been on my case for me to locate forever, I’ve booked my tickets (yay!), I’ve made up my mind to start studying, I’ve got an entirely black kitten at home, Bambi’s wound is much smaller and better, my hair is clean, the proposal I was working on seems to be *finally* over. It looks like a fair bit accomplished but it all translates into waiting and watching and monitoring progress. Almost all of it comes down to how work shapes out, what bullshit gets thrown my way and how much I can negotiate out of. I’m also secretly mentally completely prepared to quit if I need to, I can see myself getting the hell out of here as fast as a call girl who stumbles on to a client who wants to take a dump on her head, even though the thought completely scares me.

A very very dear friend is in love and it’s brand new. He’s been there before but it was so bloody long ago that it seems like this is the first time. And even though he doesn’t want me to ‘interfere’ (some people have some nerve, hmpf) I’m super happy for him. I feel like the mother who had lost all hope in her naalayak son, only to have him walk in while I’m toiling over some pateela on an open fire saying ‘ma main class main first aaya.’ (which is a very poor and unfair measure of how proud a mother should be of her kid, but what to do, I’m horrible that way) What is even cooler than him falling in love is the manner of the falling in love. I don’t know anyone who gets to do it this way, like some sort of being struck by lightning. The way I remember it happening is it being like a slow process. Where your skin gradually becomes transparent and your insides becoming brighter and warmer, till your veins and arteries and you are glowing brightly like the filament in a very happy electric bulb. Good times, all around.

I recently spent time with my boss’ secretary and I don’t like her at all. She’s a seemingly nice person but she pisses me off. She’s one of those tiny women who you can tell think they’re some sort of self sufficient combination of pretty and cute as a button and very prim and proper. Not only do I feel like an ungainly giant around her but I also feel genuinely bad for all dudes who end up with women like that who make it seem like they’ve won some sort of lottery being with these tiny humourless pygmies.

*Murphy hopes she hasn’t come off sounding sizeist and compensates with photo indicating what should be evident awesomeness*

:*

2010-09-25T23:55:00.003+05:30

Babies. Saturday night and I'm home instead of being in Noida, partying, wearing something shiny. Not only am I home, I'm also:

- sleepy at 11:30
- catering to insane Bink who insists on going all cape fear on me every night because of her debilitating addiction to cheese and preferential treatment
- allowing whiny Tenzing to harsh my mellow
- too lazy to get up and shut my window from where both the awesome cold breeze and dengue causing mosquitoes are wafting in.

Last few weeks have also been similarly super glamorous, so I haven't really been updating my blog. So I'm just going to hit the ground running and pretend we're all BFFs and you don't need updates <3 The CWG have resulted in a temporary change in work timings. I'm getting up at 0615 every morning and I don't have the energy to be scintillating (or coherent) any more at 2345 on a Saturday. The games have made a respectable woman out of me, early to bed and early to rise, no time for mooning about at night, spend most of the day in sleepy haze so no time left to actually think of things. And since this paragraph is also beginning to hurt my head as its become too long-winded and unwieldy for me to focus on, here's some bullet points for you:

- my boobs can tell the time. They know when it's post 10 PM and they'll be damned if they'll be forced to stay in a bra.
- I have a new system of dealing with unpleasant situations and requests. When asked to do things like clean the cats' milk bowls (yuck) all I have to do is lie down on the floor and stay there. It's called civil disobedience and it's a respected form of expression of political dissent. Thanks Bapu. Now only have to try it at work, will lie down in front of printers when asked to do stupid things that are disrespectful to my intellectual heft. Will be dragged away in dignified manner.
- women really handle break-up type situations very poorly. Ladies, I'm ashamed to be associated with this sociopathic obsessiveness and tendency towards hysteria. It's just a dude, behave yourselves. (and just like that earn title of World's Worst Friend and Surprisingly Misogynistic Uterus-bearer)
- I love my cats. They drive me insane but my day would be notably poorer without all the baby talk and obsessive following them around that ensues. My cats rule.
- September is sort of lingering no? For fuck's sake, get a move on already.
- New seasons of everything are out! Gossip Girl, Grey's Anatomy, Big Bang Theory, HIMYM and Glee! And soon 30 Rock. And the Mad Men season is still going on. Got lots of buffering done this week.
- I need to study. It's that time of the year again. AGAIN.

Ciao.
M

Or as Prince Humperdinck put it, 'I always think everything could be a trap, that is why I'm still alive.'

2010-09-17T18:30:00.004+05:30

I put off writing for days and weeks and now I'm finally here, having just fought with my dad about what is a suitable time for me to make my grand arrival back home. I'm going home tomorrow :) I can't wait to forget what this strange isolated time was like (which will happen within a day of being back) and in typical about-to-go-home fashion am reveling in the last bits of my solitude. Much like my cats who mostly pretend to be dainty and clean, and then roll around on their backs in sunny patches of dust or sand like there's no tomorrow.

I'm also really thoroughly enjoying the dregs of tobacco left with me. Nicotine, to me, appears to be friend, philosopher, mentor, lover and guide, a la nature to Wordsworth. I suspect when the trappings of youth disappear, when my skin isn't quite as soft, my tits not as fantastic, my body no longer 'curvy' but plain old fat and gross the one thing that will remain steadfastly by my side is nicotine and my secretly flourishing tumours. And I will love them and coo at them. (see how long I've been alone? I say things like that now. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom.)

How's everyone been? Not too great I assume, for the internet deteriorates everyday. I could break up with it you know, delete my facebook and twitter account and delete all entries off my blog and leave it with a very lame and cryptic solitary 'so long and thanks for all the fish' type post to hint at past greatness, but my usage is changing with age. It's all trade journals, magazines & newspapers, catalogues, lolcats and the style rookie and the sartorialist now. I guess the time has come when I stop snickering to myself at the bleating of online artistes and poets, who sound all ~deep~ and ~inspirational~ and actually ignore them and stop noticing every new strand of white hair.

What else? I've been fairly morbid of late and didn't want to ramble on here, pointlessly AND humourlessly. And I can't pull off ~deep~ or ~inspirational~ :| It all eventually becomes a question of time, internet. Given enough time, we can really do anything. Learn how to be trusting, nice human beings also. Which is the exact luxury we can't afford. I tried watching stupid Ishqiya today and couldn't make it past 15 minutes. And I promised myself I will not watch A Single Man again this week.

In summary, a photo more illustrative of my mood than the drivel above:

2010-09-08T21:35:00.001+05:30

Silence

and a deeper silence

when the crickets

hesitate

Where Murphy shares her bag collection one by one, because she's insanely bored

2010-08-25T18:39:00.001+05:30

Which you can get from the Play Clan store here.

2010-08-24T16:34:00.001+05:30

Tourists, don't worry. I'll kiss all of you.

2010-08-23T23:41:00.002+05:30

Your body will never be familiar.
I'll often ask for you.
My coffee bitter, the last few hundred mornings.
Love is out of my control.

2010-08-23T23:37:00.001+05:30

"i would like to remind
the management
that the drinks are watered
and the hat-check girl
has syphilis
and the band is composed
of former ss monsters
However since it is
new year's eve
and i have lip cancer
i will place my
paper hat on my
concussion and dance"

Yesterday

2010-08-22T18:06:00.001+05:30

Rajasthan looks like an entirely different place in the monsoons. It’s green everywhere, the skies are constantly dark grey and the wind reminds me of Himachal. I saw a cow get hit by a truck today, but it remained standing and only looked a little stunned. I seriously hope she’s alright. I was driven around by the littlest gremlin of an auto driver yesterday, whose face looked exactly like the Grinch who stole Christmas. This fellow kept smoking bidis and had this horrible rasping cough. I actually tried to avoid breathing (I’m smart like that) for as long as possible so as to not get TB from him. He smelled like wet rust and constantly kept getting lost. My fingernails have grown long and I must cut them today. I feel surprisingly compassionate towards heyyy bud-dee, I don’t grudge him his stupidity for some reason. I have cold milk with cereal and honey for breakfast here every day and I like it. I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee in what feels like forever and I’m smoking too often. The cigarettes also taste a little like honey and make my toes curl. I’ve been having vivid, chaotic dreams this entire week, some intensely emotional, some plain nightmares. This never used to happen in Delhi, I sleep like a log there, usually dreamless sleep, and any dreams that do turn up are usually loosely structured and comprise entirely of subtext and no plot. I’m a little perversely comforted that the themes and people turning up in them are all very basic and important to me. I’m enjoying the realization that I too have options, that I’ve always had options.

Sorry, internet. This entry is not for your benefit at all. I’m just sitting in a conference room in an industrial area, on the outskirts of Jaipur on a Saturday morning and documenting for the purpose of documenting. I think I’m still slightly numb from last night’s medicines, and enjoying the remaining stupor. I didn’t want to work today, but once I’m awake I really don’t mind, and if you’ve deprived me of my sleep on a weekend for something I consider to be entirely beneath me, I’m going to hate you forever anyway.

2010-08-19T15:52:00.000+05:30

My relation to music has changed entirely over the past few years. It’s become some sort of compulsion to not share any of it. I’ve tried multiple variations and techniques but it all ended up as some sort of perverse commodification of the music. So now I’ve finally found the solution that allows me to listen in peace. I’m listening to dance music. That and all the Glee soundtrack volumes. And of course, Leonard. Always Leonard. I don’t really know anyone else who even remotely wants to listen to some of this. And I know it sounds insane and there’s no real logic here, convoluted or otherwise. But I’m finally listening actively again and enjoying it, so I’m not complaining. I’ll eventually get back to the rest of it. I hope, I assume. Or maybe I’ve moved on altogether and become a different person.

I’ve felt surprisingly productive and efficient of late, this happens always as soon as I get back from work, to my hotel room. My usual work trips are characterized by an undefeatable lethargy and loss of sense of self and purpose. I usually spend my time feeling isolated and alone and endlessly introspect on completely unnecessary things. I chain smoke and I feel like I can never get enough. The tips of my fingers taste of ash and nicotine and I’m needlessly bitter. This time around I’m not sure what’s different. The people I’m working with are incompetent and annoying, and completely irrelevant to all calculations. But I feel completely awake and alert by myself. The norm used to be that I’d be up till 2 or 3 in the morning, struggling to balance my routine with the overpowering need to stop doing everything and just sit still and not feel toxic. Now I find that I’ve somehow finished everything by 9 PM and am getting 8 hours of healthy, wholesome sleep. Nothing appears to be too difficult or daunting, and I think I know what the difference is. I think it’s been a while since my mind’s been made up, it’s been a while since I’ve moved on completely.

The weather outside is really nice right now. It’s a little humid sometimes, but there’s a cool breeze blowing and the day is blue without being overcast or bright. I feel clean and I worry about every cigarette I smoke and the residue it keeps leaving behind in me. I want my insides to remain pink and healthy. I’m investing in my future, internet. I’m suddenly interested in my future.

2010-08-18T17:48:00.002+05:30

This is not even relevant, and none of you barring one person will know the difference but it's killing me and I'm cracking under the pressure and guilt of lying!
I wasn't in an MSC room. I was in a BTS room. I did it for the alliteration *hangs head in shame*

MSC Murphy

2010-08-17T14:27:00.001+05:30

This is an all new experience for us here at Murphy Corp. We’re blogging from a switch room. Which for the benefit of the laypeople is where the telecom equipment is stored for routing calls and keeping the entire network up and running. It’s freezing cold (because a constant temperature is required), there are a lot of us sitting on the floor around these tall stacks (because there’s no furniture), and we have no shoes on (and I’m not wearing socks, so the old paws are slowly but surely becoming icicles). It looks like some sort of scene from the distant future where the machines have taken over and we’re sitting in some sort of shrine to them. I wonder what would happen if I casually started smoking in here. We’d all get chased out and probably beaten with laathis. But I’m so sick of this work that that actually sounds like a fun day. I know I said a little while back I was bored of my deskjobesque project but this is a different extreme.

In other news I’m in Jaipur for a while. Hopefully not too long, the company of imbeciles and easy work does nothing for me anymore. I’m working with a hardcore punju guy from the fantastic town of Bhatinda, who compensates for his punjuness by replacing all his ‘yaars’ with ‘bud-deee.’ Heyyy bud-deee.

I also got to hang out with the manfriend. Yay! I’d forgotten how old Wrinkles is. He too compensates for the failing memory by randomly grinning, pretending like there’s actual thoughts and cognitive processes at work in that empty ancient space, instead of bits of fluff and dodgy memories. But we must be kind, internet. We must put up with the heyyy bud-deees and the senile smiling and make the world a better place.

Man. I can feel myself becoming mediocre. I’m sitting here and I’m completely uninterested in what my team is doing and all I can think of is if I could spit in the MSC without anyone noticing. I’m very glad it’s finally come to this. Now I don’t really think I have excuses to not do anything about it. I’m going to be very impressive and disciplined and full of purpose and eat only apples.

I’ve had this thought running through my head for a while now, and even though it sounds ridiculous and insane and like a request to attract all sorts of chaos I’m going to say it. I think my life’s boring. I’m surrounded by people I have no wish to be around, I don’t get to do the things that give me pleasure, I don’t get to be around people I do really like and I don’t get to chill enough. I’m only 24.
Wow. My cool entry from the switch room wasn’t supposed to end up sounding melancholic. But like my colleague and my manfriend I too can compensate and share this insane draft I found I’d written a week back.

“God. I’m stuck in this stupid office, waiting for the blasted CFO to get back from her lunch. And all I have to do is nod a bit at her and get the hell out of here. And then I can go back to my office, skip the lunch crowd and have a completely leisurely sandwich and coffee. Did I mention I’m starving? But I refuse to eat here, in this cesspool of incompetence and despair.
I really want to buy new kurtas. About six of them. I’m getting depressed and bored at work and the only way to counter that is to be wearing new clothes. Or I could actually get off my ass and figure out what I want to do instead with my life, something that may actually make me more money, instead of spending even more.
I had a super weekend and it makes coming back even worse. Do people who write features for magazines get free stuff? Are the Marie Claire staff getting free hair and beauty products and clothes and shoes? I bet they’ve never met a washed up CFO in their life.
I’m free!”

Here’s to the little things.

2010-08-14T22:32:00.000+05:30

2010-08-05T22:47:00.003+05:30

Well there's the post below, and then there's also lines by the poet Lady Gaga on repeat in my head.

'BOYS! BOYS! BOYS!
We like boys in cars
BOYS! BOYS! BOYS!
Buy us drinks in bars'

< 3

2010-08-05T22:29:00.002+05:30

We shall not stop our exploring
And at the end of our exploring
we shall arrive where we started. and know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, remember the gate
through the last of earth left to discover
is that which was the beginning
At the source of the largest river
the voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple tree-
not known because not looked for
but heard, half-heard in the stillness,
between two waves of the sea
Here now a condition of complete simplicity
costing not less than everything.

2010-08-01T12:05:00.003+05:30

Ladies. Pay attention. When someone asks you what kind of person you want to be, and you're making pffting noises over the 'can't do anything for herself / constantly needs to be rescued / needs someone to take care of her' choice, I beseech you. Think again. The stoic, has answers and comfort for everyone and everything choice gets old. And it shows on your skin and your eyes and you get little lines at the corner of your mouth which makes you look defeated all the time and nobody wonders why.
Make your choices wisely.

Mondayed Murphy

2010-07-19T20:55:00.001+05:30

Ugh. Sometimes I hate work with a godly passion. It's always the same team that irritates the hell out of me. Gurgaon dwellers, ugh.
Can we skip to the constantly blissed out bit already?

MIHTFBID VI

2010-07-18T22:04:00.004+05:30

The magnificent David Bowie.

Billy Zane. Mother, may I?

Malodorous Murphy

2010-07-11T16:36:00.003+05:30

Showering with the sound of the rain loud enough to be heard over the sound of the shower I smell of my wild cherry body wash, my honey shampoo and my honey and olive conditioner. I make a confusing salad.
My mother spent two years picking my name. It's hard to be zen about random pieces of offal written by prepubescent artistes with my name in it. It's even more hard to come to terms with the fact that I really shouldn't be such a bitch about things I don't know and understand, and fi-ine, it's not like I own my name.
Though I should.
It's a rainy Sunday and I have a neurotic cat sleeping on my desk, twitching at the slightest sounds. This is of course after she demanded to be let in by staring at me through the window with the most focused energy for ten straight very intense minutes. I hate it when they go all cape fear on me. I've been reading all morning but it's a little hard to focus. Falling in love seems to have very little to do with the other person, it's a largely solitary activity with just you and the inexpressible squirming at the base of your stomach. That and overwhelming gratitude for not having missed out. But it's not letting me read, it's not letting me focus. I can't look at everything in the world as a gigantic sign of how very fantastically ordinary and human I am, of how he makes this bag of bones transcend.
One way or the other, it's all about me.

Sappy shit

2010-07-07T16:49:00.005+05:30

Certain days are randomly suffused with love. Inexplicably, without justification or warning. I think being ill helps (I can currently feel my body vibrate with every breath); it leaves me depleted, without any energy to focus on the unessential (and therefore irrelevant). So, stripped of all the bullshit that makes up my life I’m a glowing being of love and zen or something like that. Being ill and medicated is also the only way I can get restful sleep apparently. I accidentally slept in a particular fashion about four months ago and now I seem to have been spoilt and rendered unable to get any actual rest on my own. My mind continuously whirrs like it’s been assigned the sole responsibility for solving the relationship between god and man and the universe. My eyes , internet, my poor eyes.

B came home this morning. In all his grown-up, healthy, beautiful tom glory. It was a sight to be seen, internet, all of us crowding around him, making cooing loving noises, getting late for work and not giving a damn. It was just a week ago that my ma had sighed about how she missed him. B’s awesome. He’s the cat with the biggest heart, the nicest person on the planet. He’s the only grown up boy who bothers to come home once every two months just to let us know that he’s fine. That he’s out there doing his own thing, but that he remembers us and feels the need to make a courtesy call to his annoying family every now and then.

In other news, due to certain recent administrative and monetary changes at work I now have a handful of new employees stalking me. Most of them are very nice and quite sweet and make big fervent eyes at me. This sometimes I like very much, it allows me to start my day with my surroundings in sync with my mental state which pictures me constantly walking like this:

But mostly it makes me dart into unnecessary corridors and stairwells, just to avoid having to muster the energy to actually look like I know what I’m doing. However, there is also one very irate new young employee, who is currently not adequately occupied. I can’t help it, internet! The project she’s scheduled on hasn’t started, is refusing to start and there isn’t much to be done about it. But man. She really does not appreciate being kept waiting. I’m constantly being hounded through texts and calls and internal IM for status updates. She wants to know every six hours if there’s been a change, if we have work for her already, and what the fuck is taking us so long. Well she doesn’t exactly say that, but her glowering implies it. And I’m being uncharacteristically nice to her and telling her to be patient. I think I remember feeling similar initial contempt for my industry and its constant dependence on imbecile clients. A simpler time, internet. But since homegirl is so impatient she’s going to get her wish and get some work. Unfortunately for her she’s off to the coal mines and I think that’s my first professional piece of bad karma.

Tchah. All I wanted to do was to sit quietly in one corner and be ignored and allowed to constantly sniffle into my work. Speaking of sniffling, both my grandma and the met department were proven to be totally right about the monsoons. And I’ve come to realize that I too have a meteorological talent. Every time the seasons officially change I fall ill. Like the premature, total tease showers we had in Delhi before the monsoons finally broke had no affect on me whatsoever. You can identify the real deal by the immediate response shown by my immune system.

My hair may still be falling out but I’m happy and I’m in love. What more can I want?

Migrant labourer Murphy

2010-07-01T23:14:00.001+05:30

Abortive entry from work. Can't relate to mood of entry now:

I really dislike having to work so far from home. Today I was discussing how I have naturally dry hair with this chick and she told me I need to oil my hair twice a week and keep it oiled for only an hour before washing it off. And in the interest of not going to work with wet, unruly hair this activity must be conducted in the evening after work. Wherein lies the catch as I only get home at 8. Which implies washing my hair at 9:30 at night, followed by four hours of waiting for it to dry. It’s a good thing I have given up sleep.
All the free time I have at work (let’s not get into that for now) I keep thinking to myself that I ought to update my blog, I ought to update my blog. But writing at work is hard. My mind’s clamped shut so that I don’t accidentally end up thinking about how I’m not learning anything new or how I don’t get to spend enough time traveling any more. I can’t do a desk job, internet. My heart’s just not in it and my nomadic habits seem to be too deeply entrenched to break. I refuse to be bound down; I can’t be responsible for the same thing for longer than a while. This whole leaving work on time, every day at 6 business, is a little depressing. I’m bored and I can’t do one goddamned thing about it.
Maybe I don’t know how to be grateful. Maybe I’m a liar and an asshole. But fuck this shit dudes, I should be allowed to sulk as and when I feel like it. Being understanding and accommodating and spelling e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g out is just too bloody painful sometimes and sometimes I just want to resent things in peace.
I realize how much of my life is dictated by my commute. It takes up the time I would normally prefer to spend doing regular 24 year old things, having a life etc. But it also gives me time to think things through entirely which in turn gives me the strength to be understanding and accommodating. I get to see a large number of really varied people also commuting, also going through the same routine, though in different degrees of comfort. This is the time I get to see men on fast moving two wheelers manage to adjust their balls with one hand only. This is when I get to reflect on my inability to sleep, my falling hair and wonder what sort of secret malaise inflicts me. This commute marks the physical distance between having to think about things and spending ten blissful hours daily in a job that is demanding and unreasonable and in all probability not meant for me at all. At least that used to be the case till I got this desk job equivalent with all its free time and fuckall inability to occupy my mind completely. This commute has given me the chance to truly appreciate how functional Indian women are designed to be and also worry about how the only thing I seem to be capable of is making money.

2010-06-28T12:59:00.000+05:30

Impotence impotence impotence impotence impotence impotence impotence impotence impotence.

Vote for Kumari Murphy

2010-06-23T21:52:00.004+05:30

Yaar. I had no intention of updating, because I wasn't really feeling it, but I've also been annoyed about how no one one my blog-roll has updated in a while and I have nothing new to read. So can't really whine without updating myself I guess?
The motherfather heat! The monsoons apparently are supposed to start on the 29th and will be late by three days and will therefore start on the 2nd. I have no idea how the met department calculated this super precise figure, but my grandma also seems to be in the know because she also told me with complete confidence that we can expect rain around the 28th. Am I meteorologically challenged?
Will somebody please take pity on me and find my cat? And figure out my motherfather future and get me a post graduate degree and finish my management accounting exams for me? And bring my stupid manfriend to a hill station near me? Where I can personally supervise the tattooing of my name on his forehead?
Today I met a dude who told me with a very fervent look in his eyes 'I always knew I was meant for direct tax*. I can't be anybody else.' And then he told me that the 3 idiots' concept of everyone always knowing what they want to do with their entire bloody life is spot on and it's only a question of self awareness and being true to yourself. Faaack. If a really annoying bollywood movie has passed on critically important wisdom to me and I've missed it, I'll be pissed. Because internet, the only thing I come up with when I 'look inside my heart' is that I want to be prime minister :( Should I also be distributing raincoats to farmers and putting up posters with a shot of me giving a thumbs up under a photo of Rahul Gandhi and a caption saying 'desh ke ek laute bete ko happy birthday?'
So much to do internet. We've reached a state of critical mass where everything is just plans and propositions and we can plan no more. Why the fuck won't it just rain!

*Direct tax is a team, part of the Global Taxation Advisory Services service line, one of our five spiffy service lines

Credible witness

2010-06-15T22:13:00.003+05:30

So somebody asked me how exactly is it that I want to be seen by others. Thank you kind sir, for that very pertinent and interesting question. To give you a more honest and elaborate answer than the part yuppie part zen part incomprehensible bullshit I gave you, I've always wanted to be seen as a credible witness. The kind who you can call to testify on your behalf in a civil trial or a not too scandalous criminal trial. Where an entire life of sensibility and good academic records and community service will stand me in good stead. Where my wasting my youth by not doing belly shots off nubile young things and in stead being known at work for good client relations, stellar presentation skills and beautiful filing will come in handy. (All this necessitates that the jurists are not my parents, who know the truth about my sensibility and my kaale kartoots; my college professors, who will somehow bring up the zero in attendance in first year and the countless tutorials and tests I failed to turn up for; or my brother, whose name for me is an acronym starting with 'fraud'; or my dodgy bombay bff, who really knows my kaale kartoots.)
I wish to be the type of witness who turns up in a white kurta with tired but kind eyes and immediately makes the side I'm on feel better and the other side mentally go 'oh shits.' Considering the company I keep these days (you know who you are) I think it's a vital lifeskill. To be able to turn up and look sincere, a little weary at being made to go through all these tareekh pe tareekh proceedings, and look as if despite my impatience with the whole drama in the first place I will gladly devote my time to ensure that justice is served.
'Nahi m'lord. Muzrim 24th ki raat ko mere saath dinner kar raha thha. I'm not denying that he has many failings as a human being, par woh khooni nahi hai.'

Baby's a little sad, a little hard to please

2010-06-14T21:40:00.006+05:30

It's been a while since I've been able to feel loose in my skin. It's a little like I can't look at the world with a perspective that isn't directly related to my life and me and everything that comes to that. It's like being trapped in your life and not being able to see the world for what it is and it's been a while since this happened to me.
Somewhere in my mind I think I'm associating waiting for the rains with waiting for being me again, and not this person completely tied down with circumstances and the people in her life, who's unable to think of anything except the things happening around her / to her.
I typed that in a rush to quickly get it out so I can talk of other more pleasant things.
Damn. Except I can't think of more pleasant things. Can you guys tell the difference between these, these, these, these and these? Because it has been brought to my attention that I have inadvertently bought them all. I don't know whether to be distraught or a little smug.
I miss college you guys. Whenever I meet women from LSR or find out that so-and-so's from LSR I feel this rush of pride and inexplicable happiness. The same thing used to apply to my school too but it's a lot more intense for college. One such person, who went to both my school and my college, who I am NOT at ALL happy with is my stupid best friend. I'm so mad and bewildered that the whole thing just stresses me out. It makes me wonder if women are fucking morons who're actually handicapped by their useless hormones and girly bits that seem to impede clear thinking. Maybe we just like being pathetic and sitting around and waiting for assholes.
In other random news, since this post is obviously some sort of hot mess, my friend Swaamers is biking from Mumbai to Leh (you can follow his journey on Twitter if you're really bored) and the whole thing is making me ache with jealousy. Not that I'd ever get on a bike, I hate the death traps. It's just the fact that he's literally seeing the entire country and being by himself (except that he's with someone called Charsi, who obviously doesn't count) and making impromptu plans to go to Bhutan. Ugh. My jealousy is at an all time high.
Also I found out today that urinals don't have flushes?!?!! Or the ones that do are being replaced with some sort of water saving cake thingy that sort of lays there and absorbs all the nastiness?!?! I'm not sure why I'm sharing this news with you but what the FUCK dudes?
And in more random news, my asshole boss has resigned and is off to be a partner at KPMG. KPMG, if I were you I'd hide all the employees with delicate sensibilities and real personalities and thin skin. And the women who drink or smoke. And people who value having lives and seeing their families. Ahahahaha KPMG, I wish you well.

2010-06-08T20:49:00.001+05:30

Internet, baby. Are you mad at me for being so useless at updating you? Don't be. Some days internet we're all like the girl in the yellow.

Murphy, the Golden Retriever

2010-05-22T00:31:00.002+05:30

Dailypuppy.com

:|

2010-05-21T11:57:00.005+05:30

I don't get it. How am I suddenly today not able to relate to what's been making me so happy?

I need to sleep.

OR! A MIHTFBID V
(sloppy seconds / half-hearted edition)

10 days

2010-05-16T01:28:00.002+05:30

Hard times have fallen upon us, internet. However, luckily, the Murph's mental state is currently something like this:

Exams in 10 days, padhai's going fine, usual last week stress / happiness has descended upon me. This is the only time I can study like I used to and I enjoy it. The preceding weeks are of course all terrible, with shameless chilling out and niggling guilt at the back of my mind. Now I'm in the home stretch, where I can study because I'm kind of panicking and because it's fun and I've missed it and I'll be back at work soon. If only I could stop sleeping 9 hours daily I'd really be sorted.
I'm not even supposed to be blogging, this post is an excuse for a break. Half constructed sentences etc. Okay, back to joint ventures and associates.

<3

2010-05-09T03:39:00.002+05:30

Today's sucked. My study schedule for today wasn't a lot and it's a whole lot easier than what I have to do over the next two days. Instead of complying with my simple expectations for the day today's dragged on its feet and been annoying in so many ways. Am I too old to blame an unproductive day on a lousy mood? Can we allow this please for at least a couple more years? Am I also too old to settle for the simple pleasures of escaping Suckfest May '10 through old Gossip Girl episodes and two packs of Sour Punk? I think my teeth hurt now. What I really need is to find a saintly benefactor with a decent internet connection who's willing to download entire seasons of all the incredibly inane TV shows that I watch and bequeath them to me, since I'm too chicken to let my brother know that's what's consuming our bandwidth. So that I don't have to waste another minute of my very precious life on waiting for buffering.

It's 4 AM, internet, and I have to be up earlyish. I have so much to think about that I don't know where to start. My original plan of not thinking about any of it till my exams finish was a good plan. Fuck, it was a great plan! I was giving myself the option of chilling out and living a simple life for a bit longer. I don't seem to do simple very well, internet. And I don't think I've had to make a decision of this magnitude since the time I chose studying Economics over English. Which, by the way, was a very sound decision. Now I'm dealing with something that I thought I had already made up my mind on, but everyday I seem to find further reasons not to make this move. Which makes me sad because I thought I was braver and more open than this.

Tchah. All I wanted to do today was get my stupid chapter on 'Dealing with risk and uncertainty' done. Kaha se kaha aa gaye internet?

From The Chai Years on my blog roll:

"Man am I going to hell.

Also, online he was, twice, and I didn't say hi and what's more, Didn't Even Feel Like.

Little Victories."

Amen.

Bright Green Murphy (part something)

2010-05-06T04:47:00.003+05:30

Bael gaadhi murphy (translation: bullock cart murphy)
Benarasi ganja murphy
Bhindi gobhi murphy
Boundary-less & guideless murphy
Blue & grumpy murphy
Blood & guts murphy

24

2010-05-06T04:18:00.003+05:30

I slept through most of my birthday. The phone wouldn't stop ringing and all I wanted to do was sleep. My Nokia has this lovely feature where I just have to turn my phone over and it automatically goes on silent, and I can go back to sleep. My twenty fourth birthday passed by faster than any birthday I remember. No alcohol, no constant stream of people and smiles and laughter and no blood loss. No feeling of something significant happening, of some sort of definite moment in time that I should pay close attention to because I'll want to be able to look back on it later. My twenty fourth birthday sort of meant nothing.

While my birthday was peaceful (and we've all agreed, even-numbered ages are so much better than odd numbers) I get the distinct feeling that I've talked myself into all sorts of things that will also mean nothing once inspected more closely. I'm alive, internet. The anaesthesia of constant text and fonts and symbols, all things you can't hold and feel and taste, is frightening. I'm alive, even if it doesn't seem like it. Even if I'm incapable of grief and am bound by a bloodless unfeeling rationale. Tonight I feel the need to remind you that I'm so very very alive.

:(

2010-04-26T15:31:00.002+05:30

Internet, I'm sick. What's worse is that I *feel* sick. And bummed out :(

And now I have "this is the end, beautiful friend, the end" playing in my head :(

What do I do?

Hmm.

2010-04-25T00:04:00.001+05:30

"It could be hard to see a womanizer like Ford as a closet case, but it occurs to me if no woman is the man he is looking for then he would never stay with her."

What's up?

2010-04-19T16:43:00.003+05:30

Internet, hello.

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.
xoxo

2010-04-05T23:19:00.002+05:30

I was in Udaipur this weekend, internet, and I got to come back by train. I don't get to travel by trains very often, my universe as I came to realise is fairly sterile. Air conditioned offices and cars and hotels and more offices and airplanes and malls and boutiques and an endless cycle of the same. The Indian Railway Experience is completely overwhelming. Especially for a claustrophobic person. Twelve hours of people right around you, over you and below you and in front of you. Twelve hours where you can feel the imprint of the skin of every person who's ever traveled in that sweaty piece of metal. I swear I could have cried. We're a nation of no space. Personal, physical and emotional. Space is a luxury with a quantifiable premium. We buy bigger cars and bigger houses surrounded by bigger lawns and put gates around our neighbourhoods to wrap ourselves with as much space as we can. We live with the people in our lives scattered all over, in different cities and countries and hemispheres. We can never have enough space. We leave and go looking for ourselves in places where we can be by ourselves, just to be able to think straight.
Internet, I'm highly claustrophobic and I've found someone who sometimes makes all the space I can lay my hands on meaningless and useless. I now find myself alone in my space, wishing I could have him so close that we're breathing each other in.
Love feels almost like a most agreeable defeat. Your armies at the doors of my kingdom. Your soldiers climbing the ramparts of my fort. Your spies among my court, your poison in my wine, your knife at my throat.

2010-04-05T22:55:00.003+05:30

So we were sitting at my favourite table at the roof-top restaurant at two in the afternoon. You can see the lake from there and at night this beautiful wind blows there that makes the whole experience of the ghats just completely serene. But we're sitting there at two in the afternoon, with the sun right overhead, in the middle of this strange Paharganj of the desert. While sitting in the baking heat we watched this woman in a white sari with red flowers water the plants on the roof of her house with a steel matka. And even though this was at a considerable distance, just the sight of the water flowing out was such a relief.
All civilisations were built around water. We too were sitting in this dirty little tourist spot, with its unwashed firang hordes, covered in grime and sweat, just to crowd around this dirty little lake. And the night before we were talking in bed about the Mariana trench. Did you know that the Mariana trench is so deep that if you inverted Mt. Everest and stuck it in the trench there would still be about 7000 feet of water above it? Did you know nobody's been down there, right at the bottom and nobody knows what monsters lie in its shadows? We spoke about it in the dark, scaring each other with just the thought of having that sheer quantum of water over you. Of just trying to wrap your head around the amount of water surrounding you, that dense unbelievable weight right above your head. About how if somehow you were there, you could swim and swim forever and never leave.

2010-03-21T15:46:00.003+05:30

What is it about being in love with a vicious man that comes as a relief? The suspicious, mistrustful, constantly thinking and never saying, laughing, breathing comfort of it all. You're a million loving ways to be cruel.

"If I don't stop shopping, I'll end up a bag lady; a Fendi bag lady, but a bag lady"

2010-03-19T00:17:00.004+05:30

So I've been trying to be zen and frugal (especially frugal) and I accidentally took stock today. I hate taking stock. Stock taking is for suckers and idiots. Stock taking blows.
As you can surmise, I need help. Not with the zen, that I have under control. In fact my abundance of zen is allowing me to be all calm about my frugality and is telling my brain, in calm soothing tones that sound kind of like Keith Richards for some reason, that I can handle this frugalness situation. Internet, in my defense I'd like to point out that when I was in college sometimes Bunny and I'd wait half an hour to take bus home instead of taking an auto, even though the freaking bus was just 5 bucks cheaper. And plus we had to travel only 3 kms and sometimes walked it if we were bored, but my point is that it's possible.
And for starters I'm going to stop taking bullshit limits from people who think 25k is a reasonable limit for a day of shopping. Geez. So next time when you see me, internet, I'll be glowing with serenity and zen and I'll be wearing something you've seen me in before at least thrice.
And I'm not even smoking.

Claustrophobia central

2010-03-17T14:19:00.001+05:30

So I got told to behave myself and I’m not sure if it’s warranted. But at least I got told! I’m at work and I have no work today. There’s a white man here reviewing some of our work and I’ve been asked to sit with the team on the project I’m technically assigned to, even though I haven’t worked with these people in a million months. I’m sitting with them, showing solidarity, being one of them. And I have no work while the white man reviews my partner’s sins. I have no internet connectivity, I have no meetings today. So I’m free, except for today’s task of being one of the team.
I miss cigarettes. I know why I quit and it’s just infinitely the smarter thing to do. I think about how pissed my dad would be if I got lung cancer one day and they have to take care of me and make sure I don’t die or experience any pain or whatever, only because of my own idiocy. It’s really irrational. But since when is true love rational? And the Phillip Morris company and I, we’re lovers. In the dirty, secret shame sort of way. The kind who meet up in hotels after they’ve got married to other people. Terrible. And I suspect all true love is the dirty, shameful kind. Wait and watch, internet.
I think I need to find a job where I love the work and feel all fulfilled and fuzzy. I think life is simpler like that because then you can look forward to spending your days being fuzzy and fulfilled. It’s important for a person like me because on a lot of days nothing else makes me feel either of the two. I think I’m missing some sort of important gland, internet. I think I need help.
I just met Swaamers and he said shame on me for not updating properly. I thought about it, and I’m sorry for this internet, but feel is not happening. At all. Case in point, this stupid entry. You’re tedious and sort of like an acquaintance and it’s just not very fun talking to you for now. Is this the extent of my claustrophobia that I want space from my blog? Space, internet, is over-rated. It’s boring and you’re forced to think about boring stuff and it makes you wonder why you don’t get drunk every night with those very carefully dressed idiots anymore. I’m going to Udaipur in the beginning of April and that’s something I can’t find anything to whine about :D There is hope for me after all.

2010-03-12T20:03:00.001+05:30

Yay Delhi!

To The Dude Who Refuses To Talk To Me

2010-03-09T20:24:00.004+05:30

Hello.

I know there's a purpose behind your silence and that it's something you feel like you have to do. I get it. I would however like to point out that it's been almost 4 (5?) months and it's time to stop. You're one of the coolest people I know and I miss you and, really, this is not worth it. I think part of the reason why I come up with zilch nowadays when I come to this blog is because I know (hope?) you're reading this. And it feels weird to prattle on about this and that when we haven't spoken about any of it in forever. And that's a really huge change from the way things were before you started this madness. I've got so used to factoring in your opinions on most decisions (and then promptly discounting them as well :P). And this year, DWRTTM, has been really strange. In both good ways and bad ways. And I'm really pissed with you for not being around to give me bullshit advice about finding my soul. Fuck you. This is not how you behave. And I'm pretty sure I'm fucking all sorts of things up and not being true to myself and handling this mushroom cloud of confusion really poorly and, buddy, I'm going to blame ALL of it on you. So fuck you, again.

DWRTTM, I miss you. I have nothing to explain, I don't feel the need to, but I miss the general happiness and warmth and simplicity that is you. I miss having my ass handed to me and I miss being a no-holds-barred bitch. I miss talking to someone who knows me really well and can call bullshit on all the bullshit. The boring monologues about your passion and its incredibly painfully large technical history, I don't miss so much :P I'm not quite sure on the junk mail (hah! there. I called it junk mail. It is mostly forwards and links and stuff) yet, my inbox looks a lot cleaner. But I also don't get to read about animals who save lives and old people who love the Beatles as much. So that's a 50-50.

Most importantly, I'm happy. And you're missing it. Which just pisses me off so much that I don't even know what to say. I know you're going to call this entire phase 'growth' or some such hippie bullshit, but I'm going to call it stupid and petty. So fuck you, again. You don't even know Professor or Bug. You don't know anything you stupid chuth.

Hope you and the family are doing well.

Kisses.
Murphy

Alright kids, it's time to get your dreams crushed

2010-03-02T22:00:00.003+05:30

I have so many pending emails to write. I seem to be unable to write anything these days, especially here. There is no one thing that I want everyone reading this to know. It seems to be inadequate to say that I'm 'happy.' I woke up and I could feel the residual man-made gunk in my insides and little else. I'm happy internet, but I still have these mornings where nothing touches me for a while. The issues here, internet, are profound psychological issues. This is no ordinary ennui. This is a soft ache in the dust of my bones, a passing spasm at the base of my skull. But then I become happy again and it takes so little for me to be happy nowadays.
And so it passes.

I'm not writing here yet internet (don't take this as me writing here, I have lots to tell you and I'm not going to do any of it now), so hang on for a while. I do however want to tell you about this girl with dark brown marks down the inside of her elbows, which look like dried up clay. She has this habit of unconsciously running whatever she's staring at or focusing on between her thumb and index finger while talking and she stopped me today in the women's restroom to ask what's the most satisfying stationery to steal from the store (where they just give it all away anyhow) while running her fingers over the orissa gold around my neck.

I slept for 17 hours this Monday and I finally felt like myself again. Geez, it's really been a while.

2010-02-18T16:01:00.001+05:30

I'm going to bangalore tomorrow you guys.
That is all.

2010-02-10T23:13:00.000+05:30

Tonight I'm listening to this.

Good times for a change
See, the luck I've had
Can make a good man
Turn bad

So please please please
Let me, let me, let me
Let me get what I want
This time

Haven't had a dream in a long time
See, the life I've had
Can make a good man bad

So for once in my life
Let me get what I want
Lord knows, it would be the first time
Lord knows, it would be the first time

Murphy compares notes on what it means to exist

2010-01-16T00:32:00.003+05:30

Babycakes, I'm breathing fire.
My planet is running out of air and you're building your strange, chimerical, smog-belching factories all over it, you're convincing me your love is distance and I'm too afraid to ruin the surprise.

2010-01-08T02:34:00.003+05:30

I like the smell of cologne on young boys a lot. Something about these children smelling like men makes me happy, and I'm not going to pursue that train of thought any further. This year, the alleged year of happiness, is off to a strange start with a lot of severe discontentment at lack of clarity on what to do with the life and the paucity of perfumed love. So I'm going to stop bleating about the year of happiness and be like a good parent and take the pressure off the very much beloved yet grossly underachieving offspring that 2010 is behaving like. Is the grammar on that sentence correct? I'm going back to work next week, I'm accepting all lewd and clumsy advances from little boys who smell like men, I'm coming full circle, I'm trying not to offend anyone.

So I'm leaving the ball pretty much in 2010's court, it can choose to do pretty much whatever the hell it wants to. I never knew being passive could be such tedious work. This is pretty much the perfect time to break out my super fun addiction to speed and my debilitating addiction to handbags.

Be good.

2009-12-30T16:21:00.001+05:30

Don't feed the pear shaped woman you guys. Please.
Incidentally all I want today is pepperoni pizza.
Happy holidays!

2009-12-20T17:23:00.003+05:30

Internet.
So I've discovered that I'd completely forgotten that there are people from work reading this blog. Therefore, I think it will be wiser to abstain from commenting on those hard-working souls who have given me so many opportunities to learn and who remain a constant source of inspiration to me even after three years since the day I was first in awe of their sheer awesomeness and professionalism. (Also Swaamers, please meet me before you leave.)
The highlight of my day over the past three days:
Day 1 - Opening a new tub of Bodyshop's papaya lip butter which I'd been putting off forever because I thought it would be super gross. Turns out the papaya is fantastic. I can't find my already open shea lip butter though [ I hate losing my stuff :( ], so I took out a new satsuma one also.
Day 2 - A sardarji walked past me at the Airtel President's Office talking on the phone, who I heard saying 'arre yaar, aaj maine mails checks nahi ki' (for those who don't understand hindi, skip this one altogether, it's pretty much going to be lost in translation)
Day 3 - Dinner and midnight walk with a bunch of people whose company is simply perfect. We're somehow always the table that everyone's constantly staring at.

Dear Santa,
All I want for christmas is:
- a warm neck I can stick my hands down after returning home from a 40 minute auto ride at 8:30 PM
- self washing hair
- peace, love and happiness

But what if it kills me? :(

MIHTFBID V

2009-12-15T01:18:00.002+05:30

Man, not men.

Bear 'he simply walks into Mordor' Grylls.

Kameene paet ki majboori

2009-12-14T00:08:00.004+05:30

You! Internet!

It's 12:09 AM. I'm going back to work tomorrow after two whole months (not counting two Fridays and half of one Saturday). I have a super hostile and aggressive work environment waiting for me, with countless emergencies that I can't seem to get worked up about anymore. I have to work on a really tedious report right now before going to sleep, where the real challenge is bringing myself to open the bleeding file. I have to make sure I have clothes I can wear to work. To ease the trauma of going back to work I bought this bag in black:

So I have to transfer all my stuff in it. I have to wake up tomorrow at 7:15 AM. I normally need my eight hours of sleep but let's not get into that right now. I have to wake up and hopefully remember to wake a very old man up. I have to call my driver and remind him that he needs to come get me. I have to go to work and somehow live through the day of 'dude you were chilling for two months, so now let's be extra inhuman to you' in the fantastic passive aggressive way only very short men, recently promoted to vague positions of authority can pull off, who incidentally pout like fucking six year old girls if they realise you're not in awe of their tiny penis induced aggressive and offensive and chauvinistic brand of machismo. And I have to sit through a 10 - 12 hour long work day surrounded by inept children and ineffective managers (who will only pout and try and look important) and work on some godawful project that's drowning and assume responsibility for not letting it drown. And then I will come home and brace myself for an endless cycle of days like this till god knows how long.
Good thing I'm happy irrespective right now.

What Murphy learned in 2009

2009-12-11T01:07:00.006+05:30

Part of me still hasn't got used to 2009 and still gets confused with what year it actually is. I suspect whenever my brain's truly lulled into a comfortable, complacent state it believes it's 2007. It's a little early in the year, but I feel like making this list. Maybe it's just been too long since I put something down in bullet points. Maybe it's just me procrastinating some more on work. Maybe it's my super fabulous mood, best illustrated by this canine:

Anyhoo, here's the official What Murphy learned during 2009 List, in random order naturally.

1. While buying overpriced sunglasses with prescription lenses, ensure they get the tinting right.
2. It's pretty much impossible for me to fly with light cabin baggage.
3. That I believe in soulmates and mine are currently pursuing a PhD in Maryland, fixing the education system in Rajasthan and out hunting rats.
4. Living alone, in a highly controlled environment, in a place where no one knows you, is possibly the closest I can come to to being disoriented enough to go out on a limb.
5. Living alone at home, with a gazillion responsibilities, is hard work.
6. That it's not my fault. So there.
7. That I've probably lost interest in being the teacher's pet at work. Not sure why.
8. I didn't listen to music all year. At least not the way I used to. The only time I'd listen to music was during commuting and while walking to some place alone. I'm not sure what the deal is, but I've learned how bloody important it is to keep things that mean a lot to you yours alone. Once it stops being personal and you share it with people, it pretty much gets dragged into whatever goes down. So I've learned not to do that.
9. If you live on thai food for a month you will gain a ton of weight. Duh.
10. That relating to people, accepting them with their flaws and mistakes is really hard.
11. That I still don't know exactly how deep does my ego run.
12. That I really miss studying and don't know why the fuck am I working? Also, I don't really know if now is the time to study.
13. Pineapple remains my favourite pizza topping.
14. Not to get my hair cut by new people. They always cut it too short and at this rate it'll never grow down to my ass and I'll never be able to get rid of ALL of it in one glorious haircut.
15. That waiting is so not my thing anymore. Universe, please! Get with the programme :(
16. I learned the needs of people in my extended family, ones that I never considered before. I'm not sure whether it's age or maturity or what exactly but this might have been the first time I've seen them as people and not relatives.
17. Dependence is dangerous and pretty much a slippery slope that people don't recognise easily.
18. That it's so easy to get stuck in an endless cycle of people who are so wrong for me. And once you realise that, you can't stop seeing them for the transient entertainment that they are, which may just be worse. There's no going back to being effortlessly and happily stuck in an endless loop of heinous assholes unfortunately.
19. Having your friends leave is pretty much exactly as lonely and fuckall as you thought it would turn out to be. But it does really help you figure shit out.
20. That maybe the days of the cigarette burns are far behind me?
21. That being by yourself is so much easier. It's infinitely easier to not have to present yourself in a way that people will find easier to understand or accept or fit into their views of what they want.
22. That love's not some histrionic teenage concept. It's also a histrionic adult thing.
23. That I'm ambivalent on whether I'm being lied to or not. How on earth does it not matter? How cool is it that it doesn't? But we'll wait and see, yeah?
24. That it doesn't take time to switch to indifference. Being vulnerable takes a lot more work.
25. That Neil Patrick Harris is all kinds of awesome :)
26. That the whole shopping thing wasn't a phase. It's a lifelong commitment that just runs in cycles. Getting past the jewelery cycle was hard, but I think the clothes cycle might last a while.
27. That I'm still waiting to see on the whole hope thing.
28. Somewhere along this year, I started taking myself way too seriously. I need to hang out with my asshole friend from work a lot more. Nobody tells me how full of shit I am and laughs at me like him.
29. I need to go see South America for myself.
30. That I'm genuinely worried that the gravel in my soul and the steel in my spine will not let me be open to something that I've managed to want despite everything.
31. I naturally turn to 500 ml tubs of Baskin Robbins' Honey Nut Crunch / Mint Chocolate Chip / Chocolate Almond Praline when super upset or faced with disappointment.
32. That I will crave meat all my life.
33. Documenting oneself is strangely comforting.
34. If you're going to be brutalized within the walls of a beauty salon, you better have a an efficient sadist at hand.
35. I can be strong and disciplined but the tug I feel at my heartstrings when I think of my beloved reds is never going to go.

36. I'm way more judgmental than I realised.
37. I wonder about conditional love. Does such a thing exist?
38. Competence does in fact turn me on.
39. I'm more materialistic than I realised.
40. I stopped being honest on this blog right about the time I settled for comfortable.

2009-12-07T15:22:00.002+05:30

Internet. Hello.
I can't do this anymore. Any of it. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing in the first place anyway, and I'm in no mood to sound whiny today.
Can I please be done now?
I'm home on a Monday afternoon, I just watched the last episode of the new season of Gossip Girl ( :P ), I have two kittens sleeping on me, with my sweater buttoned over them, causing intense heating. Bambi's sleeping on the back thingy of the couch, so he's right next to my cheek. I'm not at work, I have no responsibilities today, having meticulously cleared my schedule of all things gruesome. So I'm sorted, right?
I've upset so many people. Caused palpable grief and sadness. I'm not really sure how or why. I think life would be simpler if I just stuck to things I know like hanging out with cats, cleaning feline feces, working hard at a job that means nothing to me. That sort of thing.
I'm getting new headphones! My sister's getting them for me when she returns from vilait and they're WHITE. The wire of my last pair that I really liked was chewed through by certain constantly-pooing, running all over me when I'm trying to sleep, bright-eyed motherfuckers and the replacement pair I'm using aren't that great. I've been spoiled and I can't go back to fuckall headphones.
Muggins is getting old :( For the first time in her life she's started pooing in the house. She sleeps a lot more, alternates between randomly psychotically grumpy and violent and completely mellow and chilled out, harmless old biddy-ness. And she's puked twice in the past week itself. Maybe it's because of the cold? Either way, my baby girl, the light of my life, is becoming old.
This stupid blog post is being highly counter productive and depressing me even more. Universe, if you're listening, I could really use a complete change in my life right about now. A nice one, please. Clean slate and all that. I don't want to find out there's no escape.
Yeah, I think that's all.

Bahut nikle mere armaan

2009-12-06T21:57:00.002+05:30

A promise has been made in good faith.
It means everything.

Today I've been sliced open, right down the center.
I worry that now I'll never stop bleeding.

I won't find you.

2009-11-24T07:10:00.000+05:30

Kiss elves

2009-11-22T04:48:00.003+05:30

by the lovely Kate Beaton

Click to enlarge.

epiphany

2009-11-21T00:15:00.001+05:30

Abort! Abort! Abort Abort! ABORT!
Ugh. What was I thinking?

MIHTFBID IV

2009-11-17T22:28:00.011+05:30

Is putting Boo Radley on your list a sign of an unhinged mind?

A fella in a violent homosexual relationship with a gangster?

An angry, ruthless grandfatherly looking man?

What about wanting a sort of sad, sort of desperate, gone to seed Brando?

A scary, doesn't look warm blooded, teutonic sort?

My list is making me uncomfortable, Internet, which is highly counterproductive. So pretty much for the sole purpose of making me feel better, the quintessential stud.

BdJ

2009-11-17T00:03:00.001+05:30

This man - forties or fifties - smoked like a character in a film noir. Elegantly. Beautifully. His hands held the cigarette just so. It was delicate yet masculine. Instead of blowing out a guilty jet of smoke to the side, he exhaled a beautiful silver plume around him. He was confident in his smoking, he liked his smoking, and he was unapologetic. He did not finish with the nervous tap-tap-squish of the teenage closet puffer who continued the habit into adulthood or the pitch-and-ignore of the furtive doorway smoker. He did it with a final and decisive chess move of extinguishment. It even bordered on sexy.

Give me your hand

2009-11-16T05:37:00.003+05:30

There are some nights when
sleep plays coy,
aloof and disdainful.
And all the wiles
that I employ to win
its service to my side
are useless as wounded pride,
and much more painful.

and

Give me your hand
Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.

Let others have
the privacy of
touching words
and love of loss
of love.

For me
Give me your hand.

It's been forever since I've been genuinely tired. I've forgotten how good hard work feels. I've forgotten what it's like to lie back on your bed to just sink. To sink and to keep sinking in the most satisfying agony there is. I'm counting down. It's just another two weeks. 14 days. I keep publishing this nonsense and hitting the edit button within seconds. I'm going to go take a scalding hot shower. Infinite steam and pounding water and burning and not getting out of the way when your reflex is to shrink back is the only way I can bring myself to face the passing of another 24 hours.

Murphy's an idiot

2009-11-16T04:29:00.004+05:30

My favourite memories tonight involve lazily crossed legs, overlooking traffic and more honesty than is considered palatable. Come get me drunk on some raksi and I'll spill all my secrets and not even remember anything afterwards. Honesty is my specialty. Though not having anything to say makes things harder? Work is just my day job. My real job is to keep the hordes' secrets. Of some people I don't even like. At all! My non paying, staying with me all the time, can't switch it off, can't talk about it, doesn't allow me to look at some things & people the same way ever again job is to keep secrets. So do me a favour, don't tell me any. I don't want to know you. I understand that the need to reveal yourself, to have some sort of affirmation, to expose all your grisly bits, to keep picking at your skin till your insides show is marvelously cathartic and makes you feel good, but fuck off, not here.

Internet, my kingdom for pizza. At 5:15 AM. My kingdom for some pizza.

I'm constantly amazed at how simple he makes it. Some secrets, I guess, are always okay.

I was not, I lived and loved, I am not. Internet, tonight it is enough. It is enough it is enough it is enough.