Embarrassing secrets. I think my dog is very beautiful to the extent that from a purely objective point of view, without feeling that way myself, I can sort of see why some people may be into dogs/ animals, specifically my dog. I’m not allowed to be amusing or eloquent while telling you this stuff, but I think I should add that this is not an open invitation for eligible sex partners for my dog.
Second embarrassing secret – I once gave myself a sprain behind my knee because of some vigorous “exercises” I did in in my room, at night, in bed. No further comments.
I’m sitting in an empty office I don’t want to work in, in clothes I don’t particularly like (I’m in touch with my inner goth more than most people but black and white is monotonous and stupid. And wearing it every day is a fucking pain), with people who I don’t mind, but not more or less than other people (they’re lawyers so maybe I mind them a little bit more than other people),contemplating a future hereabouts that at this point seems like a terrifyingly dull hellscape. A duhllscape, if you will.
But wait, stop, come back. This is not a rant! This is not my depression post, but is once again, touching upon whimsy. It also may or may not have a pinch – read, oodles – of over-analysis and pontification. I am staying true to who I am, I declare as I walk to and fro the Family Courts and the office.
The Family Courts are so blatantly trying to cheer you up, you get depressed; because if they’re trying to cheer you up so intensely, you must be depressed. There is a small well-maintained park next to it,with colourful swings and slides and what not. Usually this may not cause cynicism, but how can you not imagine kids playing there with tears pouring down their ugly mugs as they think about their broken home. Personally, I find it awesome. Largely cause the kid I’m imagining is crying, but doing it silently.They also have a giant mural on the front of the building with the silhouette of mom dad kid. The holy trinity of family liff. That is an intentional spelling error. Cool people will know the reference. The rest of you will probably die young and unhappy. Coming back on point, the kid in the mom dad kid silhouette is annoying without even having a face. This is because its androgynous. It seems to have Prince’s hair and also be wearing a skirt. I am vehemently opposed to kids trying to have personalities.
By the way, they keep calling the judges “janaab”, even the lady judges. I always find it a bit weird because I know of the word janaab because my dad used to tell me stories about the polite abusiveness of people in U.P. where they would serve your ass by saying, “Janaab, aap toh %£@&?#£%@&”.
The Family Court is a little different from other courts, demographically speaking. Instead of the even distribution of congenital assholes and pathetic idiots that roam the other courts in their inexhaustive greed and desperation, the Family Court has a majority of pathetic idiots, and I do use that word scathingly with only the slightest intent to amuse you the reader. They’re not idiots because they want divorce or maintenance or custody or whatever else. They’re idiots because they got married without knowing things about their ball and chain without finding out things that one could easily find out in a year’s worth of friendly dating.
Things like the ball and chain having a flimsy locking apparatus making it likely that the said ball would just roll around and attach itself to any other leg or some other appendage to which you kinky bastards want to attach your ball and chain. Things like the ball and chain is made of steel and not gold.Things like the ball and chain not being particularly good at swoodlypooping. What’s wrong with taking a year or two and actually finding out some basic stuff about a person before marrying them? They’re also idiots because most of them spend a lot of money on lawyers and court fees when what they should really be doing is not be such babies just because they’re breaking up. I guess what I’m saying is that despite its annoying mural and park, the Family Court provides some ammount of entertainment and quite a bit of relief at not being in that sacred institution “that is the triumph of imagination over intelligence”.
Which brings me to a weirdly similar conversation I had with two of my very different friends over this past week. One is a die hard romantic and very bad at being that. The other is morally decrepit (not as much as me), mildly asocial (again, not as much as me) and good at being that. And when I say “good at being that” I mean that the latter is able to act in accordance to their notions competently, whether romantic or cynical. And yet, despite the light years of difference in their romantic sensibilities, at one point in their conversation with me, they both mentioned doubts about wanting to grace the institution of marriage with their membership any time soon.
Its a truth universally unacknowledged (Anyone? Pride and Prejudice? Hehe) that a person only starts having to worry about other people and things and responsibilities till they get married. Before that one can do any job one wants (as long as one does have a job).This is paraphrasing what my dad said in the presence of my concurring mom. And they are two very competently married people. The word of the week is definitely “competent”.
Of course having waxed ineloquent on my plans, my friend’s plans and my other friend’s ‘plans’, I have to admit that we really can’t presume our life and choices at the ripe old age of 21 (average age of me and the friends). The punctuation of the week – or perhaps my life – is the bracket. That slut of language, she is used everywhere and by everyone, often misused and overused. (!!(?)….?) And yet her bounty just keeps on giving. Let me segue right back now. So while we can’t know what we’ll do or like or what choices we’ll make, but we do have an idea. We have a steady plan. At least me and the cynical one do. The romantic one is a bit flighty.
Which brings me to discuss the slavery of employment rather than the slavery of marriage. A rather surprising, irritating and yet empowering discovery I made recently is of so many of my friendly acquaintances/ friends/ long lost friends who actually bothered to follow their passion and do what they liked doing succeeded in making a life out of it. All the way from drummer to film-maker to animator to therapist to artist to photographer. I remember a friend telling me that our generation should not and can not be satisfied with jobs that give us no space and time for our hobbies. We need passion in our employment. I don’t know if its our generation, but we do seem to need more than just a job we can do but hate doing every day. And this is not just my hippie friends. Its my non slacker serious friends as well.
Being thus reassured as well as racked with non threatening envy, I am trying to make an effort to not just do what is safe but do what I like. Which in my case happens to be diametrically opposing things. This is a long drawn out process and I can only hope I don’t pussy out. I can’t bring out my gutsier alter ego to take care of this because I have her out constantly these days without letting her talk to anyone else. I am constantly my alter ego. I’m The Hulk-ing this bitch motherfuckers.
What’s strange is that I remember at least two of my teachers from school and one friend telling me that I should write before I left for law school. That’ll teach me to disregard the kindly advice of people I like. Bah. Either way, baby steps; followed by giant leaps of faith in the land of pure imagination; followed by baby steps.
The reason I didn’t jog is a combination of leg pain that came from spending pretty much an entire day on my feet,be it running, jogging,standing,walking, etc. There was also added pain because I got a back pain after I tried to be flexible with myself despite such leg pain, if you know what I mean. I tried that largely because despite being dead tired, the leg pain didn’t let me go to sleep and the best way to get me to sleep is if I get flexible with myself. It was a horrible cycle of exercising, pain, tiredness, “exercising” and pain.
I finished Brave New World, which I loved reading. I’m usually not a big fan of the dystopian sci-fi but this book and Vonnegut are the exceptions.
“What fun it would be if we didn’t have to think about happiness”
I knew as soon as I read that sentence that it would be the pivotal one in the whole book. At least to me it was.
“One of the principal functions of a friend is to suffer (in a milder and symbolic form) the punishments that we should like, but are unable, to inflict upon our enemies.”
I also finished
“Hell heeded horribly-bright, self-centered people… They were much better at being nasty than demons could ever manage.”
“Multiple exclamation marks are a sure sign of a diseased mind.”
I also finished Lady Chatterley’s Lover, which took me more time than anything I have read in recent times. It started out slow, got better around the middle, but was still the hardest to read. Largely because I was reading it on the Kindle with PDF which is not a good combination because it strains the eye. About half way through my sister came back from whatever hamlet she was cooped up in because there was a curfew there and informed me that a hard copy was right there on her shelf. Motherfuckers! I read the second half of the book in a quarter of the time I took to read the first. What is pretty great about the book is how familiar the thoughts and ideas are at this point. Which makes you realise all over again that every feeling you have has already been written about and examined. Reading can really put a dent in your ego. On the other, hand, it makes you feel less alone. You’re not the only crazy one who wishes, quite stupidly, that money wasn’t a part of life.
Also, I kept thinking every now and then – “Huh. So this is how they fucked in the good old 1920’s.”
“Conscience was chiefly fear of society, or fear of oneself. He was not afraid of himself. But he was afraid of society, which he knew by instinct to be a malevolent, partly-insane beast.”
What the fuck is people’s problem with me biting my nails? It’s not an accident or a live sex show. It is very possible for you to avert your eyes. So please do.