In My Shoes

Actually boots are the right word. Here’s something wonderful. An hour ago, I settled down to write a blog titled “Punching Bag.” It wasn’t about a sudden weight loss/ violence regime I took up, though I realize some would think so. It was about the fact that I needed to vent.

First thing today – I took a ride in an Omni cab that was so dilapidated, there was a part of the metal frame of the seat that was perpetually jabbing at my ass as we bumped along. I don’t have a bruise, but that’s the good part.

Then I met the Principal of a public school as part of the Internship who spoke about relevant shit for 10 minutes then somehow managed to drift on for an hour into a horrible theology (and I use the word VERY lightly) lecture the gist of which was that the reason India, it’s politics, it’s bureaucracy, and the “system” doesn’t work is that Hindu’s are ingrained with selfishness through their excuse of a religion. Yeah dude, it has nothing to do with human nature. The sad part was that I couldn’t even say anything, cause it was an “official” kinda thing, and he was an old guy- ingrained courtesy and all that. but that didn’t stop me from thinking that if I had known, I would have stayed home, called up my great aunt (Refer- “The Family just gots madder”) and listened to her talk for an hour – Same difference, really.

Then I got stuck getting bureaucracy to work – Bhag Daud – I DON’T want to explain further.

Then, I had a mis-communication with my mum resulting in her going to IIT to pick me up while I went to her Hospital to go home with her. So I had to catch a bus-ride from hell- a very slow, boring hell.

First, the driver didn’t let me sit on the … that thingy on the left hand side of the new DTC buses, where people are generally allowed to sit. The driver seemed to have taken a bet to prove that he was the slowest bus driver in the world. He was winning. He was one of those old fogeys who like to follow all the rules, and thus did not let me get off where I generally do cause apparently, that’s not a bus-stop.

Now, I don’t want to be anywhere but in my shoes. And I’m in seventh heaven. The reason- I have new shoes! Frickin an-inch-higher-than-ankle length boots that look brilliant! I finally get why chicks go mad about shoes. The best part is I’m not really going to grow in the feet department, so they will always fit. That’s the most special thing about shoes- they always fit. You can grow huge in proportions but still be able to wear amazing shoes. Plus, the right kind can make any outfit look amazing… Sigh…

Ipshu, you must be so proud…. 🙂

 

Fudge on a Stick

Here’s the thing ladies- for every woman in the world, there is probably 10 kinds of “perfect man” images. You want handsome, smart, funny, rich, charming, rougish, and a million other things.

And there are the idiots you fall in love with. The ones who’ll never deserve you, and are too daft to realize that and leave you with something akin to a broken heart. There are the one’s who don’t deserve you but keep trying to, to your despair, and lets face it, to your evil glee. Hopefully there are also some that last.

But let me tell you something. Not that I would know what it’s like to be in love (except for the 7th class obsession) or anything remotely in the same area. But if being in love feels anywhere like watching Dermot Mulroney in The Wedding Date – trust me when I say I don’t care for the film – then I’d be a little less cynical about it. If it feels that good, it has to be worth it.

Because while the poor sod may not be much of an actor, and may be crass, conceited and half-witted in real life in the grand tradition of celebrities, but the inescapable fact remains – He is a piece of man meat that is BEGGING to be leched at. At least in that sad movie he is. I swear to you, I wouldn’t have watched the damn thing if it wasn’t for the soothing exhiliration in being able to watch that man move around with that ballroom grace and charming your ass off with that fucking hot smile.

So here’s the fact – love may be kool, but do not ever deny yourself the utter happiness in watching mega man meats. You can look at the menu. You should look at them menu or you have not lived.

 

Psychobabble 2

The light in the boy’s eyes was dimmed. Life has finally managed to box him in the remains of a world and society he had romanticized. Ashamed, torn up, with friends who in his head became the daily reminder of his own inability to walk the talk, he cuts himself off. He wallows and makes the best and the worst out of the new folks, as the agonizing solitude of the crowd and the contempt in his head picks his flesh out day after day. Their expectations and beliefs don’t pressure him, they merely add to the solitude.

 

Psychobabble 1

Determined not to be weak, and thus be vulnerable to being hurt again, be told that she wasn’t as good as everyone else; she did one of the two things people do in such circumstances – either look for encouragement and cajolement from others, or accept mediocrity in one area in the most passive way so that nothing other than the aforementioned cajolement from friends could hurt.