This Blog will be hiatus until July, as I have to cram in a semester’s worth of assignments into four weeks – due of course, too my back-injury and a blaring lack of self-discipline. If I don’t pass this awful first semester, I can’t go to Los Angeles. And we don’t want that, do we?
In the meantime, check out my blogroll.
It’s totally Vedic, darlings.
Recently a friend of mine lent me Russell Brand’s autobiography – “My booky wook.”
Although slightly lewd and very general with the details of his personal life – it was inspiring in how i was allowed almost complete access to someone else’s life. And that made me think of what my online trail was. I don’t have many of my accounts (Facebook, myspace, etc) set too private. I’ve always left indiscriminate traces of myself – my mood, opinion, preference – I’ve kind of used cyberspace as a junk pile, and outlet (which I sometimes think of as private, when it’s really not).
I think it’s that much more apparent to me because of the way I psycho-analyse everything I see everyone else doing. I’m not going to sit there blindly accepting the words of others when I am aware they probably choose their words with as much frequency as I do – and poorly so, to par. And I know it’s been said before but it does take as much caution, possibly more, than when you interact with others in ‘reality’.
And really, if we were as thoughtful and self-analytical as Brand was when charting his life course for everyone to see – perhaps the internet might become a better place?
* * *
In other news, I’ve had crazed mood-swings, probably something to do with always being uncomfortable because of my back. Today is the second time I’ve chucked an “Icantdoitimgoingtofsilmiserablywhydidntanyonewarnme” tantrum about my Uni Work. And yes, I am aware I’m wasting precious time blogging, but maybe, just maybe, someone might read this. And think- what the F***?
WordPress and Blogger alone inflate the egos of millions, I wonder how Fbook and Myspace fare in terms of raising self-inflated egos?
NB: I am getting a very high level of viewers from a Temple Website. I wonder how long my little link will last, and if whoever put it there is reading this, could they please contact me and tell me exactly how they thought I was qualified to get linked by their website?
This April, I fell down the four stairs and managed to crush a couple of t-sections in my spine (don’t ask me what that means as I was pretty much codeine-stoned when the doctor was explaining it to me). The result of this injury was a prescription to some rather strong painkillers and an order to lie in bed for several weeks. As something similar to this is likely to happen to all of us, let me elaborate further upon the situation normally thought of as “a period of rest”.
1. Major mood-swings.
Nobody is supposed to be on pain medication for too long. It’s bad for your liver, right? But if you try to wean yourself off, you start crying about things like not being able to reach the celery or abusing people for using all the toilet paper. And by abuse I mean something my mother compared to as the vilest expulsion of words ever to grace this planet.
2. Dirty, Dirty house.
If you drop it, it will stay there. The laundry will not evolve to a point where it washes itself (although I probably would list my dirty linen basket as a bio-hazard). Dishes will pile up, and random items you picked up in an attempt to have some independence will be left in completely absurd places. And God forbid you have a carpet like mine. It produces approximately 10,000 lint babies a day.
3. Corpulent Blob.
You will get, ah, fat. You don’t have a chance. Unless you’ve only damaged something like your foot or hand and can move other limbs, you’re screwed. Yoga, weights and any other form of exercise is impossible or forbidden on doctor’s orders. And seeing as you’re home all day, now you have even more time to discover exactly how many topping combinations you can have on a sandwich.
Did I mention people bring you obscene amounts of chocolate?
4. If you work from home…
Or are an external University student like myself, you will not, under any circumstances, get more work done. I don’t care if you can’t get out and apparently have more time, the fact that you’re hurt in some way is a perfectly reasonable excuse for playing video games, watching TV, facebooking, myspacing, or twittering yourself out of existence. Or maybe, you know reading a book.
5. However, you move time zones.
And by that of course I mean as a result of an excessive amount of staying up until 3 AM and then waking only when the neighbour starts mowing his lawn late in the afternoon. Damned neighbours. Why can’t he let the grass grow? I know we do. So what if it’s a little like Jungle Book getting to the front door? We value the sanctity of nature.
6. You lose your independece.
Let me explain. Need to get some cash? Bribe Dad to go to the ATM in town. Drop your book on the floor? Suddenly the younger sibling actually serves a purpose other than to embarrass. Run out of toilet paper? You’re screwed. You will depend on your family like you did when you were a 2-month-old baby. Minus the nappy-changing aspect. For the lucky ones, that is.
7. The Bowel Situation.
You’ll have noticed a fixation on toilet paper. Allow me to elaborate. Three days after I Got out of hospital, we ran out. Before you get disgusted, let me remind you the rest of the family isn’t home for most of the day and having lived in India for a few years, we’ve discovered the use of the good ol’ H20 as a ‘cleanser’. But when you can’t bend or…reach, well, it just isn’t going to happen. Which is why I’m hounding serviettes in the cupboard. However, codeine has a rather strong effect upon digestive peristalsis, so it’s not much of a problem.
8. Personal Hygiene doesn’t seem so important.
Why bother showering if you’ll be in bed all day? Why bother changing clothes, heck, or even wearing something other than your underwear? You can just throw on a sleeping gown and crawl to the bathroom/kitchen when nature or your stomach calls. With little socialisation and even less movement, things like cleaning your ears or brushing your hair start to seem unnecessary. I was halfway to have dreadlocks when I took notice.
9. Last but not least.
You will lose faith in human nature. Because people like to either take their time (approximately 24 minutes) when getting you a cup of tea, or don’t think it’s necessary to put away your crap. Think I’m wrong? Try not bending over or lifting anything over 200 ml and you’ll know what I’m talking about.
1# If you hate your day job, quit.
2# If someone asks for free food, give it to them.
3# If Ben wants to go in a new direction, he can.
4# There is no greater joy than boogying.
5# Passive inhalation apparently does things.
6# You don’t have to.
7# People love people who love other people.
8# It’s usually best to wear gumboots.
9# But if you don’t, you’ll make us smile.
10# Bring your phone.
11# Dont drop it, lose it, let it run out of battery, let someone else hold it, or in anyway not have it on your person and functioning. The group will scatter.
12# Tall people are easy to keep track off.
13# We all have a doppelganger.
14# Yes, we have met before.
15# You don’t actually need that much sleep.
16# Don’t forget your keys.
17# You can always change direction.
18# Love your life, live it well, enjoy everyday, and never, ever think it’s not going to get better.
Cheee.
ps. I’m blowing up.
And I say that because the Bar was packed every night, and cans were strewn across Bilungil Fields. But the last five days were positively amazing for me. I had very little sleep. I ate….or drank only coffee and the occasional rice and curry….and I felt more at peace with life in general than I have for a long time. I also realised that it is no longer necessary for me to have a day job and will be handing in my two weeks notice (with a reasonably stuffy nose) to speed up the process. I have been sapped of enthusiasm for the last couple of months and no longer wish to partake in such activities.
But anyway. I think I actually like dancing. Perhaps (or most likely) I look like a demented fool, and maybe, at times, a little unsure of myself…but the freedom of moving and not having to worry about other people judging you is exhilarating. In the temple in Mayapur, and here in Murwillumbah, it’s always felt a little awkward for me to even sway too much when the music was playing. Or bhajans. Call it what you like.
But Bluesfest. I was getting bogged in the mud – my gumboots trampled on cans and lost shoes and hundreds of others moved at the same time – and now I’m sounding pathetically poetic, but I did fell that euphoria one usually attributes to a fantastic Bhajan. Not that I discredit that – but damn, it was good not having to worry about the eyes of others speculating and dissecting everything about you.
So for now I browse the web in search of the next event and speculate about finances. I love being poor.
this is all a little disconcerting i seem to have overestimated my abilities maybe not there is still some more time before d day but i cant handle the pressure actually once i psych myself up with dreams of being an accomplished somebody maybe but if im stressed about something its really quite hard to do something like this i cant quite figure out ow to begin some of them and how to end the others you can never really over edit anything she said but that just destabilized the whole thing remember rule number 7 no personal or whiny rambling emotional posts but i think this part is important oh youll never ever understand why its like this i guess you can call it prose and that brings me to another backburner project that still needs to be started as well as the other three and i really cannot wait until june work work work i need to visit uluru and perhaps get back in touch with my mystic side as its all drifting away from me in this ongoing intellectual analysis and having to deal with ego of unknown students well then i guess thats it just a spill and flow and thats why they call it
Prose.
Shabam. Aren’t you jealous?
And as I have not been blogging, I am not. This is the last blog to contain whines about not having enough time to get to my (beautiful 20”) computer. Now that I have whined (you have NOOOOOO fricken’ idea how many essays I have to hand in next friday. It scares me) I shall tell you a little about life, of late.
Have developed fatal attraction to cliche chick-flick movies. Jane Austen’s work is not a modern (or realistic) example of our lives in the 20th Century – and the sooner we all (just me, really) come to terms with that, the better. Have upgraded to better internet deal at cost of $75 more each month. Yet another reason not to pay gym membership fee. Meaning I cannot attend. Meaning jam and cream on toast this morning will be brewed upon with great guilt for rest of day.
I think I’ve absorbed the writing style of Bridget Jones. Watched that last night. Kalki snuck in through my window and scared the crap out of me by ‘ahem-ing’ very loudly and making me think there was a serial killer on my bed. Must remember to shut and properly lock crappy windows.
Am currently drinking instant coffee with cream in nostalgic attempt to remember Kolkata. Why I (and how it it is mentally possible to actually) miss it – god only know. Probably because everyone has been uploading photos on Facebook (which I went cold turkey on for four days – result? aforementioned attraction to other method of not studying, aka chick flicks) of their luverly trips. Not the mushroom type, although that was a tempting jab. Have been inspired to save more than I currently am. India in Ocotber or bust.
Fell over yesterday in public in my imitation converse sneakers and smacked my butt on the cold metal grille of death. The only thing stopping me from going to the osteopath is the thought of the dreaded open-back smock.
Where was I? Oh, and the only thing that got me out of bed this morning was thinking about a devonshire breakfast for a sleepy half-hour and then getting to the kitchen, only to be dissappointed. Never think that toast can replace scones. It’s just not possible.
Now, back to my essays. Or that’s what I’ll tell you, anyway.
Yesterday was horrible.
I started work at the usual 8 Am, but had, unfortunately, been up ALL night doing some work on my assignments. So with 5 hours of sleep, I needed some caffeinated help.
The kitchen was traumatic, as usual, but as I said to Param the other day about my boss – I’m building up the same sort of immunity that you would to a virus. Keep your head down and your mouth shut if you want to keep your job is the motto of the day. Every day.
Anyway – my major gripe was I came in before everyone except the Boss and the other chef. The ‘Other chef’ leaves at 3 PM. A lot more people come in at around midday and in the afternoon. Boss sends all but two of them home at 5. I’m still in the kitchen prepping and putting things away – the other guy got in at around 2 PM – so no problem.
I was at work for 10 hours. I was exhausted for the rest of the day, and now, as I type this – feeling nauseous and listening to the neighbour start up the lawnmower (It’s still early, dimwit) – I know I’m going to either have to set my hours back or drop a day.
Time to go to work.
Today I hopped on Momma’s computer (still waiting for my baby from Perth to arrive) and was astonished to see a soaring hitcount.
To coin an MSN acronym, WTF? I have little over a dozen posts and only two or three other bloggers that have actually linked me. (Yes, I am aware of those who have not scratched my back in return. Names have been taken.)
Anyhoo – It turns out I’m on the New Raman Reti Hub Blog Roll- Alachua Temple’s Community Website. God only knows how that happened as it’s not as if I reference India as frequently as I did as the Jaywalker. Hmmm. More on that later – if I ever do find out.
This did make me realise how narrow my target audience presently is as, well, looking at my last post – there’s a lot of incongruent blathering. I will attempt to fix this. Now I’m going back to my essay.
It’s 11:50 and I have to be up at 6:30 tomorrow morning.
Yay.
Totally click on this link: Waiter Rant.
Goodnight.
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