Colours have always meant expression for me. There are those that I choose consciously and those that pick me on my Let's Go With The Flow days. Then there are those colours that I just cannot tolerate. These give me physical pain. Like magenta, I like it only on bougainvilleas. On humans and in their surroundings it just looks hideous. Then there is this particular shade of glazed electric blue that simply gets on my nerves. Only acceptable in spandex in movies with superheroes. I used to hate turquoise till I realised it was really versatile on a dusky skin tone. And then there are the colours a tarot reader warned me about -- she said there is too much of those in my life and I need to tone them down -- red and black. Muted bold, cautiously open, borderline tease, subdued power and sensuously dark: red and black together are all that.
I cannot wear red and black on all days; but certain days are just that - red and black - bordering and hinting at Something that is to come and yet shrouded in enough mystery to thrill and terrify me at the same time. What's out there? Is it waiting to engulf me, chew on me and keep regurgitating me into the Cycle of Life for perverse pleasure? Or is it that Expanse where I take my first tentative step and then leap and somersault and stretch and punch and pirouette...because I am going to be boundless? Like that unstoppable boulder, that once pushed off a cliff, just keeps gaining momentum, keeps getting bigger... And who knows if it would crash to the ground or bounce off into an unknown black hole, full of positive possibilities? And fuck it, even if it crashes; it sure damn hell will be spectacular. Yes that is what I love about red and black, they are spectacular. And yet the two colours that give me a boost when I am unsure. The red keeps you from mourning and the black ensures you don't look a Christmas tree.
I don't like waiting - not that I have ever met/heard of anyone who enjoys it - as I really don't know WHAT to do when you are waiting. Anything you start, will remain incomplete because whatever/whoever you are waiting for will happen/turn up. And how can you be expected to stop thinking ahead - because you are now waiting - and start thinking of How Do I Keep Busy now. You can roll only that many. So I am writing and the result is...this, because I don't want to stop writing because then I would have to do the How Do I Keep Busy now. Hmm. But I should stop. I am wearing red and black and heading out. There is Something unknown that I cannot put my finger on; so might as well go out and embrace it. Let's see...
March 29, 2007
March 28, 2007
Giving credit where it's due
My mom, speaks English (at home) on three occasions -- else we speak Bangla -- when she's highly excited, highly perturbed or proving to Dad that Mrs Pinto (Mamma's kindergarten English teacher) did a good job with the a, e, i, o, u's. When Mamma is excited she says, "Goodness, Gracious, Lord" with such a British accent that it kills us. When its retorting to Dad, her sentence starts with an, "Excuse me please." And then , when Mamma is really perturbed, she'll shock you with a whole sentence in English.
Like when she declared, "I am simple, your father is simple. I don't know how you have been born like this, like some Wild Cat!?" Then Ma proceeded to explain how I should not try and live with anyone as I am difficult to live with. When I argued my case, Ma cursed me saying, "You wait. You will have a daughter JUST LIKE YOU." And that ladies and gentlemen, is bad news. However, I am glad Mamma didn't call me a scarlet woman or something, I was expecting that any minute. Poor things worried that I am going to live by myself again. Ever since I have been on my own (since 2000), I seem to move houses/homes in 6 months. Shrug. I dont know why or how...not ALL situations are my doing!!
Am I tough to live with? Yes. But hey, it's not always me. Sample these: One person found me too clingy and said I had excessive need. Another always had either his tongue sticking down my throat all the time or his crotch hovering in my vicinity always at times when I didn't want it around, like when I was cooking or writing. And no, it's not that he wanted sex in the kitchen either. It was just stupid, unproductive timing with him.
Certain things about me might not be very friendly. Like I like to zone out when I log on. Internet is personal, it's not switching on your TV and watching the daily soap with the family, yeah? And no, I dont enjoy being watched after my bath when I am doing my moisturising etc. It sounds good in girlie magazinse for a How To Seduce Him thing, otherwise it's just intruding on personal space/time on a daily basis. Once in a while though, I'd enjoy giving you a show.
And the fact that I offered a body massage cannot be held against me...not at 3 am when I pooped as well. So I like to cook...but there are days I just dont feel like it. Even if I had priorly announced honey chicken that night! And when I am smoking... and after... either we are on the same trip or basically can manage to reach the same plane... or we stay away, yeah? I really cannot handle people who cannot handle their smoke and start talking too much. And lawrd...I HATE dusting. I just wont do it, so for those who think that I can be reformed, please! Dust yourself.
So well, all that a some more things here and there make me hard to live with. And not quite so literally, I am a pain to be with. I exasperate myself at times. Like I can talk about myself. REALLY talk. Like, take the blog and have someone read it out to you...constantly, blog after blog. Sab josh khatam, I tell you. I can be a brag. I am extremely rude, even offensively so, even at the cost of social niceties and in situations that demand I shutup than open my mouth. I am opinionated and not easily convinced of the other's viewpoint (unless I believe I am in love with the person, then I am the biggest believing ass this side of the hemisphere). I can be extremely bitchy. Stupidly, fucking emotional. Too wrapped up in my own self... Too much thinking... Over analytical, even over self-critical. :)
I have an amazing knack of falling for men who just WON'T like me. There are times, when I can get into self0-doubting because my Current Oject of Affection is not responding the way I want him to. So, I'll think that maybe there's something wrong with me, or it was something that I said, or the way I behaved, blah blah blah. And all this while that I censure myself, there will be those who are around. The people who have picked up calls at random hours; people who have called, eerily at times when I am feeling the lowest. People who make me laugh and want to be with me without any agenda. Men and women who take me the way I am (lol, double entendre) ...who let me space out or rant about my Future Plans and then later about How The Plan Failed, who let me have my temper fits and laugh at me and relax with me. Those who land up at my place in the middle of the night to share a toke, those who let me come into their houses and sit quietly in one corner, those who take out half an hour in their schedules to just meet up and ask me how am doing, people who share their time and space without asking what school I have been to...
People -- so many of them -- who are THERE. Those who love me, overwhelm me, becasue they love me. They also take a lot of shit from me. God, I am really grateful.
Post Scrap: And the Princess counted her special marbles and felt very happy that she had so many and in such different, vibrant colours. She decided she was going to party out tonight and chose to wear her most transparent blouse. "I LOVE my booblets," she thought.
(sab josh khatam = all enthusiasm over)
Like when she declared, "I am simple, your father is simple. I don't know how you have been born like this, like some Wild Cat!?" Then Ma proceeded to explain how I should not try and live with anyone as I am difficult to live with. When I argued my case, Ma cursed me saying, "You wait. You will have a daughter JUST LIKE YOU." And that ladies and gentlemen, is bad news. However, I am glad Mamma didn't call me a scarlet woman or something, I was expecting that any minute. Poor things worried that I am going to live by myself again. Ever since I have been on my own (since 2000), I seem to move houses/homes in 6 months. Shrug. I dont know why or how...not ALL situations are my doing!!
Am I tough to live with? Yes. But hey, it's not always me. Sample these: One person found me too clingy and said I had excessive need. Another always had either his tongue sticking down my throat all the time or his crotch hovering in my vicinity always at times when I didn't want it around, like when I was cooking or writing. And no, it's not that he wanted sex in the kitchen either. It was just stupid, unproductive timing with him.
Certain things about me might not be very friendly. Like I like to zone out when I log on. Internet is personal, it's not switching on your TV and watching the daily soap with the family, yeah? And no, I dont enjoy being watched after my bath when I am doing my moisturising etc. It sounds good in girlie magazinse for a How To Seduce Him thing, otherwise it's just intruding on personal space/time on a daily basis. Once in a while though, I'd enjoy giving you a show.
And the fact that I offered a body massage cannot be held against me...not at 3 am when I pooped as well. So I like to cook...but there are days I just dont feel like it. Even if I had priorly announced honey chicken that night! And when I am smoking... and after... either we are on the same trip or basically can manage to reach the same plane... or we stay away, yeah? I really cannot handle people who cannot handle their smoke and start talking too much. And lawrd...I HATE dusting. I just wont do it, so for those who think that I can be reformed, please! Dust yourself.
So well, all that a some more things here and there make me hard to live with. And not quite so literally, I am a pain to be with. I exasperate myself at times. Like I can talk about myself. REALLY talk. Like, take the blog and have someone read it out to you...constantly, blog after blog. Sab josh khatam, I tell you. I can be a brag. I am extremely rude, even offensively so, even at the cost of social niceties and in situations that demand I shutup than open my mouth. I am opinionated and not easily convinced of the other's viewpoint (unless I believe I am in love with the person, then I am the biggest believing ass this side of the hemisphere). I can be extremely bitchy. Stupidly, fucking emotional. Too wrapped up in my own self... Too much thinking... Over analytical, even over self-critical. :)
I have an amazing knack of falling for men who just WON'T like me. There are times, when I can get into self0-doubting because my Current Oject of Affection is not responding the way I want him to. So, I'll think that maybe there's something wrong with me, or it was something that I said, or the way I behaved, blah blah blah. And all this while that I censure myself, there will be those who are around. The people who have picked up calls at random hours; people who have called, eerily at times when I am feeling the lowest. People who make me laugh and want to be with me without any agenda. Men and women who take me the way I am (lol, double entendre) ...who let me space out or rant about my Future Plans and then later about How The Plan Failed, who let me have my temper fits and laugh at me and relax with me. Those who land up at my place in the middle of the night to share a toke, those who let me come into their houses and sit quietly in one corner, those who take out half an hour in their schedules to just meet up and ask me how am doing, people who share their time and space without asking what school I have been to...
People -- so many of them -- who are THERE. Those who love me, overwhelm me, becasue they love me. They also take a lot of shit from me. God, I am really grateful.
Post Scrap: And the Princess counted her special marbles and felt very happy that she had so many and in such different, vibrant colours. She decided she was going to party out tonight and chose to wear her most transparent blouse. "I LOVE my booblets," she thought.
(sab josh khatam = all enthusiasm over)
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