Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Split Personality? No, Just Selfishness.


What's it going to take to get my dad to understand how jobs work?

Okay, you know, that's the wrong question. He doesn't care how jobs work. My brother has no intention of taking up a job, any job. He fully intends on living on at home and mooching off of my parents. Doth my dad protest? Nope, he does not.

Dad just doesn't want me to... uh, do anything, really. With my life. He would not be very disappointed, methinks, if I were to pop off suddenly. In fact, being able to blame me for my own death would be an excellent bonus, methinks.

What brought this on? Yet another early morning fight.

"Why are you working, I never told you to work."

Actually, dad, you wouldn't give me peace of fucking mind in college. You wanted me to drop out and start earning. So what salary did you think a drop out is going to get?

Oh, what's that? You want me to "live within my means?" Yeah, you'd love that, wouldn't you? Confined into a PG, subject to ridiculous bullshit rules, in fact, you'd probably be delighted if you could just shut me back in the ARS hostel and be done.

I cannot deal with anger anymore, so it just kind of ineffectually washes up at the back of my mind and eventually disappears.

Overwhelming Stupidity


You never know when someone's about to die. You never know when they're hiding a serious, chronic and ultimately fatal disease. So be nice to them. You'll regret it once they're gone.

My brother's been hospitalized with jaundice, and once again I'm amazed by how incompetent my parents seem to be.

If I die without having published my stories, I shall be very disappointed indeed.

If I die without having rubbed elbows with all of my favourite Hollywood celebrities, ditto.

If I die without having met Jo Rowling, ditto.

This is why death is inconvenient. The things to be done around here are endless.

*puffs on cigarette*

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Excluded From Spaces


A mole? Ugh. I bet Dung Fletcher has a mole for a patronus too - assuming he can cast the charm, that is.

I'm so demotivated right now, it's not even funny. It doesn't help that my stomach's acting up, or that I usually end up reaching home so late that going to the supermarket isn't an option, or the fact that I no longer have the energy to cook anything.

It's gotten so bad that numerous people have noticed and commented on the fact that I have like, one meal a day.

And yet I'm probably gaining weight, not losing it, knowing me.

I ended up staying until 11 at work last night, which is a double headache - not just because it's late and you're tired and your back's killing you, but also because you live in a disgustingly misogynistic country with disgustingly misogynistic LAWS.

I did not know this until recently, but the State of Karnataka BANS women from working in night shifts. BANS!

Industries that are KNOWLEDGE BASED - are an exception from this ban. This is after the IT industry kicked up a ruckus a few years back. But they have to get special permission to allow women in their night shifts, combined with a bunch of specific infrastructure - like transport - that they have to arrange for.

By the sound of my cat, he's currently dismantling the living room.

Anyway, as I was saying, GUESS WHICH COMPANY HASN'T EVEN APPLIED FOR THESE PERMISSIONS???

Oh, that's right.

And guess who ends up getting lectures on staying past 8 pm because the company would be doing something illegal simply because I'm on the premises?

Lol yeah.

Because why should women's careers matter, when you can just propagate rape culture instead?


Friday, September 23, 2016

Slytherin and Proud


Pottermore keeps updating and making me make new profiles. The good news? I've been sorted into Slytherin literally every time.

So has my sis, for that matter. Tee-hee-hee.

I'm super happy about the wand I've been given, so Imma share the details here so I don't forget again.

Alder, dragon heartstring, 13 inches, surprisingly swishy flexibility.

Alder:




Alder is an unyielding wood, yet I have discovered that its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards. - Source: https://my.pottermore.com/user-profile/wand

Dragon Heartstring:
As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.

Flexibility:
Wand flexibility or rigidity denotes the degree of adaptability and willingness to change possessed by the wand-and-owner pair - although, again, this factor ought not to be considered separately from the wand wood, core and length, nor of the owner’s life experience and style of magic, all of which will combine to make the wand in question unique.

Edit:
Ilvermony House: Horned Serpent
Named by Isolt Sayre after the great horned river serpent that has a jewel set into its forehead; Horned Serpent house is sometimes considered to represent the mind of a witch or wizard. It is also said that Horned Serpent favours scholars.

Edit 2:
Patronus: MOLE!!!!
WTF. HAHAHAHAHA OMG MOLE!!!!
Moles are interesting and stuff, but man, blind as heck. 

Saturday, September 10, 2016

Certainly No Brick In No Wall


The thing though, is that ever since my conversation with Z, I've been thinking a lot about my future as someone who's poly. This is going to be the biggest hurdle ever - even though it really shouldn't be.

I mean, it makes perfect sense right? Why would you want to insist on legally possessing someone for ever, when you can love them and cherish them and all the rest, without making claims on their body and their bodily autonomy?

Who am I decide who someone else can or cannot sleep with, or what they can or cannot do with their body? What gives me the right to place that sort of condition on a relationship with someone I purportedly love?

And yet this is precisely all of us. I am yet to get to the stage where I'm dating again - mostly coz nobody I want to date has actually asked me... But I know this is going to be an issue eventually.

Despite all this, I am still more concerned about how posing for the commitment ceremony pictures will work.

*rolls eyes*

Seriously, this is me at five thirty in the morning, obsessing over how I could possibly fit three partners instead of two into a commitment ceremony when I still cannot get one date. 

The Things She Does For The People She Loves


Z and I have known each other since the tenth grade. We became best friends really quickly, and would spend hours talking everyday, walking around the Lulu Park after tuitions, and putting off the moment when we'd have to go home.

Neither of us had home lives that could be described as particularly satisfying. We were both teenagers rebelling - to varying degrees. We were both more or less boyfriend-less, despite getting hit on all over the place (and mostly by creepy older dudes). That is to say, we were in long distance relationships that would satisfy our peer group's boyfriend requirement, but which didn't actually mean much in the long run as far as relationships were concerned.

We were fifteen. We listened to teen and bubblegum and pop-py pop. We crushed on random cute boys without ever even wanting to know what those boys were really like. We talked about the dresses we wanted to wear, but weren't allowed to by our families.

We were fifteen. The world was going to get better. Everything was going to make sense. We would get our boyfriends, and we'd eventually end up marrying the best ones. We promised each other we'd be maid of honour. It was a promise as solemn as the grave, with no doubts, no uncertainties...

The world didn't really get better. Z and I both went to college in different places. We both dropped out of those colleges after going through hell battling depression. Now we're both working whatever job we could find, wondering how things are going to turn out.

And we're still dreaming big.

And while we still had those things - along with horrible experiences with boyfriends and sex stuff - in common, along the way, our paths kinda diverged. I threw myself whole heartedly into rebellion. Nothing was too out of bounds, no discovery too radical for me. Z remained kinda a little religious. She still goes for Mass every Sunday. She lives at home with her parents, and supports them as best she can. And as most of us know, parents these days need quite a lot of supporting.

Peer groups and prolonged exposure to the internet, battling depression and law school - well, all of that led me to develop a persona as distinct from the people around me as could be. I now identify as a cis-bisexual polyamorous feminist atheist. And each time I came out to Z with regard to any aspect of my identity, she'd react with indignation and surprise, rapidly followed by acceptance, and the adjustment of her big dreams to include this new version of me.

As an event planner and designer, over the years, she's begun to talk of planning my wedding. As my maid-of-honour, and godmother to any possible child I should have, I knew it was imperative that I break the news to her sooner rather than later.

"I'm never getting legally married."

There, I said it.

"I might, however, have a commitment ceremony with the dress and the flowers and everything else. You're still maid of honour."

Momentarily thrown, she quickly regained her usual verve and began planning the whole thing all over again, until I decided to go for broke:

"And, um, there's a chance there will be more than one partner to get committed to."

She:

"What now? Oh, no, come on. I ain't planning two ceremonies."

"Um, no. It might be just the one. Ceremony. I mean.."

"Oh, man.."

Her plans out of whack, Z is now re-calibrating. Recently she sent me pictures of some, er, decorative tree stumps?? And told me she's having that for my wedding, because of which I was now obligated to get married in the middle of a jungle or something. I told her I didn't want a big expensive thing, but that I'd buy a big expensive house so she could go crazy decorating that.

"Bad enough that I'd have to convince two people to get married to you.."

I couldn't stop myself from laughing hysterically, like, "ZEE, that's my job, not yours, don't you worry about that."

She's just the best, I tell you. Just the best.

P.S.: I'm still wearing Vera Wang, like we planned all those years ago, if she has anything to say about it. See what I mean about dreaming big?

Saturday, September 3, 2016

Bye

Okay so newsflash I hate everybody and everything.

Friday, September 2, 2016

Hashtag Goals


I've been badgering my parents about a bike since this morning. So far, dad's said nothing at all, and mom's said a lot of nonsense. About par for the course, basically.

And then she basically said she'd consider getting me the bike if I'd get myself a license. Easier said than done, obviously, but it's the first positive thing I've gotten out of her in my life. As far as this subject is concerned, that is. 

Monday, August 29, 2016

Bogged Down


It's been a hideously long, and just generally hideous week. First there was Ventus' accident, wherein the little genius sneaked out of the house successfully, only to fall down some stairs. He hurt his nose, was in shock, crawled under a car to hide, and wouldn't come out, even though he saw me searching for him.

Recovery has been confusing for the both of us, with him refusing to eat, and my following him around with various different foods, trying to get him to eat.

Then there was a particular complication in my personal life - and I honestly did think this particular gift was out of giving, but nope, boy, was I wrong or what?

Then there was Frankie passing away, and... oh, God, just so much. I've been staying late at work every day, consequently getting less sleep, eating out, and what have you because I don't have the energy to cook. On Saturday I stayed till midnight, and was so upset the entire day, that I hadn't finished my work even after FIFTEEN HOURS of being at work.

What can I say? When a depressive episode hits, it warps your sense of time and productivity. You feel like you've been working super hard for hours, but really you may as well have been going backwards for all the good it done you.

So there was me going into work on a Sunday, basically spending around four to five hours outside the house when ALL I wanted to do was lay down and DIE, like you hear some dogs do.

And now I have to GO BACK. And no, not even the prospect of seeing a particular someone is enough to entice me into getting the hell up.

Rainbow Bridge


Yesterday, around afternoon, it struck me that a whole new day had dawned without my baby breathing in it somewhere. It was a horrid thought, and there wasn't anything I could do with it.

Or about it.

Frankie is gone. Even if I say it a million times, and no matter how I say it, that is a line that just doesn't ring true. My mind refuses to compute.

Frankie? My Frankie? Francis cat?

How can he be gone?

A friend posted a lovely message on my Instagram, pointing out that cats hang around even after their nine lives are done, because they're not good at doing what they're told. I like to keep thinking about Frankster the Prankster grumbling around my house because he doesn't like the fact that he seems to have been replaced. Frankie never did deal with jealousy well. I like to think about him coming back to keep Tandacat company, because those two are the best of friends, and the hair-raising shriek she let out when she finally saw his body was heartbreaking.

I like to think of my baby curled up on our verandah for the rest of my life, fast asleep right next to Ventus, 'coz that's ALL he ever wants to do - sleep.

My dear Pranjipoo, I've thought of you every day I've been away from you. And not a day will pass by now that I will not think of you. You've taken up so much space in my life over the past four years, space that Tanda and Ventus cannot fill, because it's your space. Nobody takes Mr. Foufflywhiskers' spot. Nobody. And you will continue to fill that space, until the day I finally pass on, and meet you at the Rainbow Bridge.