Today I blew off a rather attractive and highly prominent lawyer who seems to like me, so I could watch the final not-the-best-film-ever-made Harry Potter with my brother and his wife. A few days ago, I stopped emailing a cute, interesting, self-aware doctor who made me laugh. A few weeks before that, I kissed a sweet investment banker goodnight, while I framed a Dear John letter to him in my head.
Okay, so none of them was perfect. Who is? The lawyer is in the middle of a messy separation, has two kids and a domicile in South Africa. The doctor is going through some weird finding-himself-through-tantric-sex-with-anything-that-moves phase which, so long as it doesn't affect me, is quite hilarious. The investment banker is just--lonely. But none of these were the deal breakers so much as the fact that I inexplicably lost interest.
Clearly I have a blinking light above my head that says, "All ye lost and weird, come to Mama!" which, in the weirdness capital of the world, I have been getting my share of. But losing interest... now that has been the stumbling block - and not just here. I've been in NYC for two months now, and right from the start, when I began meeting these really interesting men who had more to their lives than movies and TV shows and media jobs, the expiry-date status of my stay was crystal clear. So, we just spent time getting to know one another and things went along swimmingly. We went out, saw concerts, went to the beach, visited some really cool pubs and bars, picnic-ed under the trees.. all the fun stuff. And we talked. Sometimes late into the night. And then suddenly... there's attraction.. and in my case, a sudden pull-back.
Anyone who has been reading this online diary for any period of time knows that sexual attraction - for better or worse - hasn't been scary for me. Indeed, regardless of what the future holds, sex has mostly been about fun. Now, so many years down the line, I have to ask if my previously fought for standards have shifted and is it possible that I'm genuinely looking for something deeper... In which case, do I have to start saying no to all those potentially fun encounters?
Back home, I have a ton of loose ends that need to be dismissed. A major portion of this trip is about waiting for those loose ends to wither into nothingness in the absence of proximity. And about discovering what it is that I want. During these three months, only three men have stayed in touch with me, who have missed me and made no secret of that fact. Only with one of them have I shared a sexual history with - and that was a disaster. Without going into too many details, let's just say that none of these men is comfortably right for me...
Which brings me to the question - If I'm saying no to "just sex", and none of these men is right for me in the "something deeper" context... what's next?
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Dancing in the Dark
I don't trust my father.
These five words have come to define my entire relationship with men.
Sitting as I am these days among complete families - dysfunctional sometimes - I see so many young women who adore their fathers. I see so many fathers who are irritating, embarrassing, even downright silly - but undoubtedly deeply loving of their children. And in the midst of all that, I see in their relationships the confidence that regardless of what life throws at them, fundamentally nothing really can go wrong.
It's likely that I'm crediting healthy, normal father-daughter relationships with too much value. For anyone who has been in a family where the only communication between dads and moms has been screaming and anger, the biggest wish has always been that the parents will separate. I want to clarify here that this post isn't about mom and dad relationships but about parent-child ones.
The other day, I celebrated my father's birthday. It's rare that I get to see him that day, and my brother and I decided to take him and his wife out to dinner. I walked into the restaurant, late as always, and he gets up off his chair, happy to see me. He takes me in his arms, and we dance a bit of a mixed up waltz together to some honkey-tonk music.
It was one of those perfect movie moments that show a deep and real relationship between a father and his daughter.
And all that time, I couldn't look at him. It was such an alien feeling to have my dad hold me. And when he pulled me into a dip, I let his shoulder go, to hold on to a nearby bar stool for support, making him kind of superfluous in the situation. I trusted a piece of furniture to hold me up better than my father. I could just as well have been dancing alone.
Which is what I think I end up doing anyway.
My dad told me a long time ago that I should stop being this cliched "child of broken family" and hanging all my issues on his shoulder. The thing is, I don't care about the fact that mommy and daddy couldn't stand each other. The real betrayal, I want to remind him, was the 5 years of emotional and mental trauma through disappointment-filled letters and phone calls exchanged between the two of us - a 45 year old man and a 15 year old girl. Each painful exchange chipped away at the fundamental belief that nothing could possibly go wrong so long as daddy was around.
Maybe I've been singing this song for too long already. But I can't help but think that if perhaps I'd gotten used to my father dancing with me over the years, that if I'd seen up close and personal that despite the mistakes one makes while learning to dance, one still sticks around to finish it, that dancing is about learning the steps and not everyone is a perfect dancer to begin with but they do become better with practice - it may have been easier for me to accept a real-life imperfect partner.
Instead today, I don't go dancing unless I have a handy bar stool nearby. Often, I just sit on it and watch and wonder at the ability of the people around me to trust another human being to not drop them. And usually, even in a crowd, I dance alone.
Oh man.
These five words have come to define my entire relationship with men.
Sitting as I am these days among complete families - dysfunctional sometimes - I see so many young women who adore their fathers. I see so many fathers who are irritating, embarrassing, even downright silly - but undoubtedly deeply loving of their children. And in the midst of all that, I see in their relationships the confidence that regardless of what life throws at them, fundamentally nothing really can go wrong.
It's likely that I'm crediting healthy, normal father-daughter relationships with too much value. For anyone who has been in a family where the only communication between dads and moms has been screaming and anger, the biggest wish has always been that the parents will separate. I want to clarify here that this post isn't about mom and dad relationships but about parent-child ones.
The other day, I celebrated my father's birthday. It's rare that I get to see him that day, and my brother and I decided to take him and his wife out to dinner. I walked into the restaurant, late as always, and he gets up off his chair, happy to see me. He takes me in his arms, and we dance a bit of a mixed up waltz together to some honkey-tonk music.
It was one of those perfect movie moments that show a deep and real relationship between a father and his daughter.
And all that time, I couldn't look at him. It was such an alien feeling to have my dad hold me. And when he pulled me into a dip, I let his shoulder go, to hold on to a nearby bar stool for support, making him kind of superfluous in the situation. I trusted a piece of furniture to hold me up better than my father. I could just as well have been dancing alone.
Which is what I think I end up doing anyway.
My dad told me a long time ago that I should stop being this cliched "child of broken family" and hanging all my issues on his shoulder. The thing is, I don't care about the fact that mommy and daddy couldn't stand each other. The real betrayal, I want to remind him, was the 5 years of emotional and mental trauma through disappointment-filled letters and phone calls exchanged between the two of us - a 45 year old man and a 15 year old girl. Each painful exchange chipped away at the fundamental belief that nothing could possibly go wrong so long as daddy was around.
Maybe I've been singing this song for too long already. But I can't help but think that if perhaps I'd gotten used to my father dancing with me over the years, that if I'd seen up close and personal that despite the mistakes one makes while learning to dance, one still sticks around to finish it, that dancing is about learning the steps and not everyone is a perfect dancer to begin with but they do become better with practice - it may have been easier for me to accept a real-life imperfect partner.
Instead today, I don't go dancing unless I have a handy bar stool nearby. Often, I just sit on it and watch and wonder at the ability of the people around me to trust another human being to not drop them. And usually, even in a crowd, I dance alone.
Oh man.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Bound By Contract
I'm beginning to suspect that Sheldon Cooper wasn't all wrong when it came to having a roommate agreement. I think all relationships should have a written contract. In marriages, the pre-nup is becoming quite the norm, but what about boyfriends and living-together-ness? In India, more than anywhere else, where the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing is still quite nascent, given the background noise of "arranged marriages', it becomes of even greater import. Also, I'm sure it would be easier to navigate a relationship if there's a clearly set down roster of needs and expectations.
This entire thing has come to the forefront of my thoughts because I currently find myself in an un-relationship. The truth is while there's nothing really going on, this un-relationship is showing all the markings of something that could possibly strangle it.
Take for example the idea of space. In my life, space plays a very important role in my well-being. As a writer, I need a certain amount of space to think, stare at my ceiling in contemplative silence, listen to my fan as it turns creakily, watch mindless TV shows, etc. But mostly I need solitude.
Now insert into this picture, a boy apparently with a lot of time on his hands. To this time, he brings an almost continuous conversational chatter, the demands of "what do we eat / drink / watch / play / do?", the sweet yet cloying amorous advances. Add to this the demands of my regular day of meetings and deadlines and friends... I don't have a moment to myself!
Don't get me wrong, it's all very sweet and incredibly flattering. But I do have moments of supreme irritation. Like today, when he told me that he was going to meet some friends in another suburb, I found myself changing my going-out plans because i'd finally have the house to myself! I won't even talk about the number of times I've stepped out of my home simply because he was there, and I needed to get away. And I'll never breathe a word about the amount of that getaway time I've spent driving and making phonecalls. What a train-wreck!
Which brings me here. If having a relationship is about adding value to your life, and not just about driving you up the wall, then one needs to look at things which make your life full of value. In my case, it's my work.
I love writing. And reading. I like to watch films in the comfort of my home. I like to eat when I'm hungry and not so much otherwise. I like my glass of wine. Sometimes I have a lot of it. I love to hang out with biggish groups of friends. I like having independent and complicated relationships with people. I like giving all the people in my life one-on-one time. I like the fact that I'm not accountable to anyone. I enjoy sex but some days I'd rather read a book before i sleep. I like the freedom to not do something including opening the door or wearing clothes if it's that kind of day. I don't love having to keep the contents of my life a secret from my friends, even though it often works out that way.
(Yes, I can see why I've been single for so long.)
Notice the absence of "I love the way a man looks at me when he loves me" and other such lines? I realize it could be a result of having been single or in complicated scenarios for the last five years, but I find myself anti-mush. And in the spirit of Anti-Mushness, I feel there should be certain guidelines for every relationship to follow.
*Replace what you finish, fix what you break.
*Stay over only ____ number of days a week, and only ______ number of days back-to-back.
*If you're living together, make his-only and hers-only inviolate spaces in the house.
*Spend atleast 6 continuous hours away from each other during the day. This does not include sleep time.
*Spend time together outdoors.
*Make time to meet your pre-relationship friends as a single person. Don't hide away your partner, but don't be surgically attached either.
This is clearly a work in progress. While I work out the other details, maybe I should just have quoted Kahlil Gibran.
This entire thing has come to the forefront of my thoughts because I currently find myself in an un-relationship. The truth is while there's nothing really going on, this un-relationship is showing all the markings of something that could possibly strangle it.
Take for example the idea of space. In my life, space plays a very important role in my well-being. As a writer, I need a certain amount of space to think, stare at my ceiling in contemplative silence, listen to my fan as it turns creakily, watch mindless TV shows, etc. But mostly I need solitude.
Now insert into this picture, a boy apparently with a lot of time on his hands. To this time, he brings an almost continuous conversational chatter, the demands of "what do we eat / drink / watch / play / do?", the sweet yet cloying amorous advances. Add to this the demands of my regular day of meetings and deadlines and friends... I don't have a moment to myself!
Don't get me wrong, it's all very sweet and incredibly flattering. But I do have moments of supreme irritation. Like today, when he told me that he was going to meet some friends in another suburb, I found myself changing my going-out plans because i'd finally have the house to myself! I won't even talk about the number of times I've stepped out of my home simply because he was there, and I needed to get away. And I'll never breathe a word about the amount of that getaway time I've spent driving and making phonecalls. What a train-wreck!
Which brings me here. If having a relationship is about adding value to your life, and not just about driving you up the wall, then one needs to look at things which make your life full of value. In my case, it's my work.
I love writing. And reading. I like to watch films in the comfort of my home. I like to eat when I'm hungry and not so much otherwise. I like my glass of wine. Sometimes I have a lot of it. I love to hang out with biggish groups of friends. I like having independent and complicated relationships with people. I like giving all the people in my life one-on-one time. I like the fact that I'm not accountable to anyone. I enjoy sex but some days I'd rather read a book before i sleep. I like the freedom to not do something including opening the door or wearing clothes if it's that kind of day. I don't love having to keep the contents of my life a secret from my friends, even though it often works out that way.
(Yes, I can see why I've been single for so long.)
Notice the absence of "I love the way a man looks at me when he loves me" and other such lines? I realize it could be a result of having been single or in complicated scenarios for the last five years, but I find myself anti-mush. And in the spirit of Anti-Mushness, I feel there should be certain guidelines for every relationship to follow.
*Replace what you finish, fix what you break.
*Stay over only ____ number of days a week, and only ______ number of days back-to-back.
*If you're living together, make his-only and hers-only inviolate spaces in the house.
*Spend atleast 6 continuous hours away from each other during the day. This does not include sleep time.
*Spend time together outdoors.
*Make time to meet your pre-relationship friends as a single person. Don't hide away your partner, but don't be surgically attached either.
This is clearly a work in progress. While I work out the other details, maybe I should just have quoted Kahlil Gibran.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Gasp! Look at this!
It's different, yes. But the reason I decided to change the look of my blog was because I saw another one that looked exactly like mine. It's disconcerting to look in the mirror and then not see yourself.
Also, after five years or so of blogging about my life, I feel better about looking at things differently.
And, I have about 20 pages of writing to do, so what better way to procrastinate? :)
Also, after five years or so of blogging about my life, I feel better about looking at things differently.
And, I have about 20 pages of writing to do, so what better way to procrastinate? :)
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Tiny Explosions
He walks unperturbed through the landscape of my life, stepping on little minefields, while I watch open-mouthed wondering which one will finally tear him apart. But he continues regardless.
"So will you come over home and we could hang out?"
"Maybe you should spend a few days with me at my place..."
"Let's plan a short trip together."
"I love you."
"Baby, you have to stop saying that, it's just scary..."
"I know, I know.. even I wouldn't know what to do if you said it back to me..."
"I'm not saying anything back to you.."
"I know."
The background track changed to "Something Stupid".
He smiled at me as I wondered why I wasn't panicking.
"So will you come over home and we could hang out?"
"Maybe you should spend a few days with me at my place..."
"Let's plan a short trip together."
"I love you."
"Baby, you have to stop saying that, it's just scary..."
"I know, I know.. even I wouldn't know what to do if you said it back to me..."
"I'm not saying anything back to you.."
"I know."
The background track changed to "Something Stupid".
He smiled at me as I wondered why I wasn't panicking.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Hello You
I want to write something about you. I want to tell someone how different you are. I want to chuckle with someone about the fact that you think you're too honest for your own good. I hope you never change that about you. I want to tell you that when I smile at you, I'm actually marveling at your ability to wear your heart on your sleeve, and have arrow marks pointing to it. You seem fearless and vulnerable, a potent combination that makes you charming beyond belief. You make me want to not be cynical... to believe for just that one minute that pigs do fly and that the phoenix is born out of its own ashes. I want to explain what making someone feel beautiful means - and I want to invite you to the front of the class for show and tell. I want to tell everyone about you. You, my little secret.
Friday, May 6, 2011
That Time of the Decade Again...
I'm considering chucking up my life here and heading to New York. The excuse is a 10-week writing course. It's a good excuse because there is a germ of honesty in that. The course will help me structure my writing better. It will give me a fairly objective perspective when it comes to the qualitative analysis of my writing. It will tell me how to get out of screenplay writing mode and attempt prose. It will help me find my voice... and tell me how to hold on to it. All of these are very good reasons, enough in themselves.
But the real truth is this. I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted by the constant struggle my writing is becoming because I don't know whose opinion to trust. I'm exhausted with the mediocrity of thought and action. I'm tired of constantly re-evaluating my friendships and tired of finding myself dispirited. I'm tired of seeing the same faces, having the same conversations, the same irritations, the same view from my window. After days of being alone at home, I'm tired of stepping out, only to discover that I haven't missed anything. I'm tired of asking myself the question, "Is this really as good as it gets?"
Thirteen years ago, I'd had the same feelings and they led me to pack my bags and leave a city for good. I haven't looked back even once. Is that the same thing that's happening now? I don't know. I have many more things holding me here than I ever did there. There's love linked to this city, which is a big difference. And it's only a question of 10 weeks give or take.
On the flip side, I will be missing from my job market here for almost three months. At a time when I've started to build an independent clientele who are quite happy to return to me, disappearing on them for three months is not the smartest move. Also, this will be an expensive ten weeks, and I shall return to a bank balance that will not be as much in the black as I'm accustomed to. Then, there's the question of what I shall be doing when I'm not working 12-hour days (almost 60 days) in a city which is unfamiliar at best. The answer, I'm hoping, is not tearing out my hair out of sheer boredom.
Almost everyone I've spoken to about this is extremely supportive of the idea of me going. The thought of getting away for an appreciable period of time makes me happy. To be able to live and work on my craft in the creative center of the world is delicious, even if I get told that my writing sucks. But I'm also wondering if this is my version of a Porsche to ride out my mid-life crisis.
But the real truth is this. I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted by the constant struggle my writing is becoming because I don't know whose opinion to trust. I'm exhausted with the mediocrity of thought and action. I'm tired of constantly re-evaluating my friendships and tired of finding myself dispirited. I'm tired of seeing the same faces, having the same conversations, the same irritations, the same view from my window. After days of being alone at home, I'm tired of stepping out, only to discover that I haven't missed anything. I'm tired of asking myself the question, "Is this really as good as it gets?"
Thirteen years ago, I'd had the same feelings and they led me to pack my bags and leave a city for good. I haven't looked back even once. Is that the same thing that's happening now? I don't know. I have many more things holding me here than I ever did there. There's love linked to this city, which is a big difference. And it's only a question of 10 weeks give or take.
On the flip side, I will be missing from my job market here for almost three months. At a time when I've started to build an independent clientele who are quite happy to return to me, disappearing on them for three months is not the smartest move. Also, this will be an expensive ten weeks, and I shall return to a bank balance that will not be as much in the black as I'm accustomed to. Then, there's the question of what I shall be doing when I'm not working 12-hour days (almost 60 days) in a city which is unfamiliar at best. The answer, I'm hoping, is not tearing out my hair out of sheer boredom.
Almost everyone I've spoken to about this is extremely supportive of the idea of me going. The thought of getting away for an appreciable period of time makes me happy. To be able to live and work on my craft in the creative center of the world is delicious, even if I get told that my writing sucks. But I'm also wondering if this is my version of a Porsche to ride out my mid-life crisis.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
They Like Me, They Like Me Not...
OK, so it's official. I am NOT a social person. How do i know this? Because, as part of a social experiment (yeah, I should have seen it right then. After all, who considers social behavior an experiment?), I texted all those people whom i haven't stayed in touch with - well, ten people to be precise, even though the actual number of people go into the thousands - asking them the universal question that covers a range of sins: "Ssup?"
And their reactions were very telling. Mostly they revolved around, "Wow. Where have YOU been?? Finally decided to return to Earth?" And the truth is, i get this a lot. What's annoying is: Why am I considered to have been the one who dropped out of sight, when the other person hasn't stayed in touch either?
The other day, i was talking to an ex-colleague. About a year ago, we had been working fairly closely together on a project. It was clearly a professional relationship, despite an easy camaraderie. The project finished and we went our separate ways. A few days ago, he tells me, "You dropped out of sight. What happened?" Now the truth is that the project was over, and i'd pitched a few other concepts, which hadn't gone through. So that was that. He realised that. But the point is, the only thing he actually registered at the end of a very positive and fruitful working experience was that i went AWOL.
It's upsetting to know that you can go AWOL and no one will come looking for you.
So, i know that i'm not the gushing sort. I don't actively reach out to people. I only sit up and take notice of the lack of a constant people presence when i spend days cloistered in my room, writing. When i finally raise my head out of my literary or work haze, i call someone and go out for a drink. Or sometimes, people call me and i'm happy to fall in with their plans.
The worst part of this is, i constantly see extremely social people around me. They make it seem so easy having these comfortable relationships with a vast number of people. I don't know how they do it. But i wish i did. I really do want to be that person with atleast 4 people in her house regardless of day or time. Instead, ironically, usually people don't get in touch because they assume I'm probably busy doing something else or that i won't be interested in their plans. It's awful.
..................................
Written a day later:
I met a friend and we talked about a film he's trying to make - the typical "White American saves the world (set in India), gets the exotic girl, and leaves behind a legacy of the 'generous American spirit'" The catch was this: He wanted to do this in a way that does not offend anyone's sensibilities - particularly the people (Indians) that are 'saved' through this exercise. And i found myself telling him that he'll never be able to please everyone, while remaining true to his story.
And that is true of my life too. I'll never be that non-discerning or even that sympathetic of other peoples' frailties that will ensure that i always have people who like me liking them around me. I'll never be that effusive about my love for the people i do actually love, because i'm just better with the written word rather than the spoken one. And i'll never not want my space to be exclusively my space, for as long as i want it, even if all i'm doing with it is lying on my couch and staring at the fan.
So it's not awful. It's not perfect. It's not a sit-com life. But it is my life. And hopefully it won't end with me slowly dying alone, with my pet cats eating my face, just because no one noticed i was gone.
And their reactions were very telling. Mostly they revolved around, "Wow. Where have YOU been?? Finally decided to return to Earth?" And the truth is, i get this a lot. What's annoying is: Why am I considered to have been the one who dropped out of sight, when the other person hasn't stayed in touch either?
The other day, i was talking to an ex-colleague. About a year ago, we had been working fairly closely together on a project. It was clearly a professional relationship, despite an easy camaraderie. The project finished and we went our separate ways. A few days ago, he tells me, "You dropped out of sight. What happened?" Now the truth is that the project was over, and i'd pitched a few other concepts, which hadn't gone through. So that was that. He realised that. But the point is, the only thing he actually registered at the end of a very positive and fruitful working experience was that i went AWOL.
It's upsetting to know that you can go AWOL and no one will come looking for you.
So, i know that i'm not the gushing sort. I don't actively reach out to people. I only sit up and take notice of the lack of a constant people presence when i spend days cloistered in my room, writing. When i finally raise my head out of my literary or work haze, i call someone and go out for a drink. Or sometimes, people call me and i'm happy to fall in with their plans.
The worst part of this is, i constantly see extremely social people around me. They make it seem so easy having these comfortable relationships with a vast number of people. I don't know how they do it. But i wish i did. I really do want to be that person with atleast 4 people in her house regardless of day or time. Instead, ironically, usually people don't get in touch because they assume I'm probably busy doing something else or that i won't be interested in their plans. It's awful.
..................................
Written a day later:
I met a friend and we talked about a film he's trying to make - the typical "White American saves the world (set in India), gets the exotic girl, and leaves behind a legacy of the 'generous American spirit'" The catch was this: He wanted to do this in a way that does not offend anyone's sensibilities - particularly the people (Indians) that are 'saved' through this exercise. And i found myself telling him that he'll never be able to please everyone, while remaining true to his story.
And that is true of my life too. I'll never be that non-discerning or even that sympathetic of other peoples' frailties that will ensure that i always have people who like me liking them around me. I'll never be that effusive about my love for the people i do actually love, because i'm just better with the written word rather than the spoken one. And i'll never not want my space to be exclusively my space, for as long as i want it, even if all i'm doing with it is lying on my couch and staring at the fan.
So it's not awful. It's not perfect. It's not a sit-com life. But it is my life. And hopefully it won't end with me slowly dying alone, with my pet cats eating my face, just because no one noticed i was gone.
Monday, April 4, 2011
To Belong...
... to a housefull of people who groan and cheer and dance berserkly with you
... with truckloads of people who go whooping past your house in trucks and cars waving flags and singing "India, India!" (clap, clap, clap - yes, everyone knows that chant)
... to a city where, even in a traffic jam created out of vehicles and people and drums and fireworks, not a single angry face can be seen
... to a people that stops strangers on the street and shares champagne and high-fives with them
... to the most money-driven city in the country that takes a day off on the day of the finals
... to a country that is emotionally involved with 11 intimate strangers, who take on the other nations, and stand up to them, for the rest of us.
Wouldn't change it for the world.
... with truckloads of people who go whooping past your house in trucks and cars waving flags and singing "India, India!" (clap, clap, clap - yes, everyone knows that chant)
... to a city where, even in a traffic jam created out of vehicles and people and drums and fireworks, not a single angry face can be seen
... to a people that stops strangers on the street and shares champagne and high-fives with them
... to the most money-driven city in the country that takes a day off on the day of the finals
... to a country that is emotionally involved with 11 intimate strangers, who take on the other nations, and stand up to them, for the rest of us.
Wouldn't change it for the world.
Friday, March 25, 2011
What Just Happened?
"You love me?"
"More than the air I breathe."
Beat.
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
Shite (also read as "Oh Lord, not again!").
"More than the air I breathe."
Beat.
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
Shite (also read as "Oh Lord, not again!").
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Through Blog-Colored Lenses
A few months ago I met someone whose only understanding of me was my blog... Over a period of 3 days, he read every post that I've written over the last 5-odd years, all the comments, and figured that he really knew me. Three meetings over three months later, things have gone south in a very serious manner. Since I'm still working my way through my new-found sense of optimism when it comes to potential friendships, I would like to get a few answers to the following questions:
Q: You (a non-blogger) have met a girl - Searcher - for the first time ever at a coffee shop and surprisingly, end up having a fun time together. Do you..
a) Call her the next day and say, 'Hey, you wanna watch a movie?"
b) Start a new blog and dedicate your only post on it to her, with the sole intention of having her read your 40-years-in-400-words attempt at 'honesty' in the hope that she will decide to have a relationship with you?
Q: She reads the post and instead of freaking out about the too-much-too-soon-information in the post, she responds with restraint and an understanding of the compliment being paid. However, she says, "Don't write for me. If we have to get to know each other, we will, but it'll take time." Did she mean...
a) Oooh yeah baby! Bring it on!!! You are the ONE.
b) UH.. ok.. that was .. interesting.. but.. uh.. please don't do this anymore.
Q: She writes a post about dating on her blog and, in a text (probably your third or fourth after meeting her at the coffee shop), you say, 'So, how'd that date go?" She responds, "You don't get to ask about my blog posts. Either you genuinely want to get to know me, and respond to what you get to know of me from our meetings, or you want to just be a voyeur in my life." She meant...
a) Please, always, when you see me, discuss my blog with me, because i live to clarify all your questions about my personal life
b) Let's find out if there's anything more here than admiration for and curiosity about what's on the page.
Q: Some time later, you do invite her to a movie that's playing across town. She agrees to meet you but she's late for the film and the two of you miss it, instead enjoying a fun lunch. A few days later, you watch the same film but not with her. Do you...
a) Talk about the film with her thus having an enjoyable discussion
b) Tell her that you didn't pay attention through the film because in your head this was supposed to be a her-and-you thing, like there was already a her-and-you twosomeness.
Q: Over the three months since you first met her, you have sent her sweet little thinking-of-you gifts - including a to-be-returned personal copy of a book that holds a lot of sentimental value. She hasn't sent you anything in return. Does this mean...
a) You've won over her trust and she now considers you a dear and close friend
b) she's wondering if two meetings (NOT dates) isn't too soon to start giving things of personal and sentimental value to a total stranger
Q: Seeing her under-whelming reciprocation to your gifts, you up the ante and invite her to a weekend away in a beautiful hill station to 'break free from the bonds of relationship labels...' and to get to know each other better. She says, "This feels like you're pushing a fast-forward button to something that barely exists. Let's first meet a bit more in the city where we both live before considering an out-of-town experience." Did she mean...
a) Wow! I so want to go away right now...!
b) Woah! Back off a bit, please. thanks.
Q: After a pleasant dinner (where you couldn't resist referring to her blog which you've been following pretty avidly despite being asked not to) and a movie (this was the third meeting in three months), you surprise her with a gift - a paid-for flight ticket to a beach haven. When she says, "back the fuck off!", it means...
a) ofcourse you are relevant enough in her life to presume to have a say on if and where she takes a holiday, all because (according to you and your incisive reading between the lines of all her blog posts) she seems to be unraveling.
b) She's finally losing her patience with a person who's now so out of the picture that she doesn't need to bother much with being polite anymore.
The most astounding part of the conversation was when he said, "The reason I'm here and why I suggested the break is because when I read your posts, I feel sad. It's like you're stuck, revisiting the same things over and over and there's no forward movement. And I guess as your reader, I'd like to see you go forward." This moment was when I thought of Bob Dylan and thought the words he had uttered a long time ago. He had said, as I wanted to at that time, "Just cuz you like my stuff, doesn't mean I owe you shit."
A long time ago, I'd written about what it was like meeting another blogger. Fortunately, that blogger is someone I consider a friend today - three years later. It took time, a healthy respect for each others' private space regardless of what we are privy to on the e-page, comments from our monikers on each others posts, as well as face-time house parties, get togethers at nightclubs, late night drunk phonecalls, and an understanding that what happens on a blog stays on a blog.
I don't know why that's so hard to understand.
Q: You (a non-blogger) have met a girl - Searcher - for the first time ever at a coffee shop and surprisingly, end up having a fun time together. Do you..
a) Call her the next day and say, 'Hey, you wanna watch a movie?"
b) Start a new blog and dedicate your only post on it to her, with the sole intention of having her read your 40-years-in-400-words attempt at 'honesty' in the hope that she will decide to have a relationship with you?
Q: She reads the post and instead of freaking out about the too-much-too-soon-information in the post, she responds with restraint and an understanding of the compliment being paid. However, she says, "Don't write for me. If we have to get to know each other, we will, but it'll take time." Did she mean...
a) Oooh yeah baby! Bring it on!!! You are the ONE.
b) UH.. ok.. that was .. interesting.. but.. uh.. please don't do this anymore.
Q: She writes a post about dating on her blog and, in a text (probably your third or fourth after meeting her at the coffee shop), you say, 'So, how'd that date go?" She responds, "You don't get to ask about my blog posts. Either you genuinely want to get to know me, and respond to what you get to know of me from our meetings, or you want to just be a voyeur in my life." She meant...
a) Please, always, when you see me, discuss my blog with me, because i live to clarify all your questions about my personal life
b) Let's find out if there's anything more here than admiration for and curiosity about what's on the page.
Q: Some time later, you do invite her to a movie that's playing across town. She agrees to meet you but she's late for the film and the two of you miss it, instead enjoying a fun lunch. A few days later, you watch the same film but not with her. Do you...
a) Talk about the film with her thus having an enjoyable discussion
b) Tell her that you didn't pay attention through the film because in your head this was supposed to be a her-and-you thing, like there was already a her-and-you twosomeness.
Q: Over the three months since you first met her, you have sent her sweet little thinking-of-you gifts - including a to-be-returned personal copy of a book that holds a lot of sentimental value. She hasn't sent you anything in return. Does this mean...
a) You've won over her trust and she now considers you a dear and close friend
b) she's wondering if two meetings (NOT dates) isn't too soon to start giving things of personal and sentimental value to a total stranger
Q: Seeing her under-whelming reciprocation to your gifts, you up the ante and invite her to a weekend away in a beautiful hill station to 'break free from the bonds of relationship labels...' and to get to know each other better. She says, "This feels like you're pushing a fast-forward button to something that barely exists. Let's first meet a bit more in the city where we both live before considering an out-of-town experience." Did she mean...
a) Wow! I so want to go away right now...!
b) Woah! Back off a bit, please. thanks.
Q: After a pleasant dinner (where you couldn't resist referring to her blog which you've been following pretty avidly despite being asked not to) and a movie (this was the third meeting in three months), you surprise her with a gift - a paid-for flight ticket to a beach haven. When she says, "back the fuck off!", it means...
a) ofcourse you are relevant enough in her life to presume to have a say on if and where she takes a holiday, all because (according to you and your incisive reading between the lines of all her blog posts) she seems to be unraveling.
b) She's finally losing her patience with a person who's now so out of the picture that she doesn't need to bother much with being polite anymore.
The most astounding part of the conversation was when he said, "The reason I'm here and why I suggested the break is because when I read your posts, I feel sad. It's like you're stuck, revisiting the same things over and over and there's no forward movement. And I guess as your reader, I'd like to see you go forward." This moment was when I thought of Bob Dylan and thought the words he had uttered a long time ago. He had said, as I wanted to at that time, "Just cuz you like my stuff, doesn't mean I owe you shit."
A long time ago, I'd written about what it was like meeting another blogger. Fortunately, that blogger is someone I consider a friend today - three years later. It took time, a healthy respect for each others' private space regardless of what we are privy to on the e-page, comments from our monikers on each others posts, as well as face-time house parties, get togethers at nightclubs, late night drunk phonecalls, and an understanding that what happens on a blog stays on a blog.
I don't know why that's so hard to understand.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
A Day in the Life of a Little Village
EARLY MORNING BLUES : Nancy's Husband speaks
Woke up this morning, with a single thought in my head
That time was running by, but it was hard to get out of bed
What happened to the man i was just yesterday?
And then i remembered, with the suddenness of death
My old woman Nancy, she'd run off with my neighbor Ted
My coffee isn't in the pot, my shirts ain't laundered
When i see that lying cunt, I'll get her ku-chumbered
But for now, i have to find my slippers and get on with the day
Maybe I'll find Ted's wife, and bang her all through May
There has to be a plan
In this godforsaken World
If there is a carnivorous plant,
There must be a vegan boar
Someday when the balances finally figure out their job
That'll be the day I'll happily rip out Ted's heart.
DAYTIME DREAMS : Ted Speaks
Ted's my name, but i'm thinking of changing it over
Cuz Nancy is nice, but she's really not worth the trouble
Of having her husband chase me around town
with a machete stained with old blood that's now turned brown
I'm no hero, and i'm clearly not too bright
Cuz when a girl is unhappy, i just tried to make it right
Sure i'm a catch, she'd be insane not to want me
With my Best Piss in the Snow award and my miniature backyard tee-pee
Now we're on the road, heading east of wherever
She's snoring in the backseat; dunno why i'm the designated driver
She'll wake up and want to grab a bite of something nice
Hey, whatdya know, i'll just lie back and enjoy the ride!
THE TWILIGHT ZONE : Nancy Speaks
What is it with men and their unending musing
About love and lust and the nonsense in-between?
All i wanted was a roll in the sack
But before i knew it, i was told to pack
'He'll kill me, he's seen your letter!" was his plaintive cry
"But.. but.. how did he know?" was my confused reply.
Two days now, and i wonder where i went wrong,
One love letter that fell in the other's hands
Ted and my man, both dumber than bricks
Can't see that i'm not interested in their sticks
There IS true love, but neither of them know
That it's Ted's wife i'd rather blow...
THE DARKEST HOUR BEFORE DAWN : Ted's Wife Speaks
My neighbor is sweet, her name was Nancy
Dunno why, but i'd caught her fancy
I have the curves and high heeled shoes
But there's always a few inches a girl can lose
Ted's been patient, but he's reached the end of his tether
And i can see why he'd jump the fence over
Nancy probably wanted to see a little city-side whirl
The truth is, she's all woman, that girl
With her winks and her lip-licking trickery
It's possible this village is too small for her witchery
Grabbing her mink jacket and Slims that she smokes
She thinks she's ready to open new doors
My door would be the wrong one, i'll have to admit
Because while she's gorgeous, i'm surely not the best fit
Two women together may be her dream come true
But my problems are really too big for two
One of the issues is that i like a Man's wood
And the other is that i'm really a dude.
Woke up this morning, with a single thought in my head
That time was running by, but it was hard to get out of bed
What happened to the man i was just yesterday?
And then i remembered, with the suddenness of death
My old woman Nancy, she'd run off with my neighbor Ted
My coffee isn't in the pot, my shirts ain't laundered
When i see that lying cunt, I'll get her ku-chumbered
But for now, i have to find my slippers and get on with the day
Maybe I'll find Ted's wife, and bang her all through May
There has to be a plan
In this godforsaken World
If there is a carnivorous plant,
There must be a vegan boar
Someday when the balances finally figure out their job
That'll be the day I'll happily rip out Ted's heart.
DAYTIME DREAMS : Ted Speaks
Ted's my name, but i'm thinking of changing it over
Cuz Nancy is nice, but she's really not worth the trouble
Of having her husband chase me around town
with a machete stained with old blood that's now turned brown
I'm no hero, and i'm clearly not too bright
Cuz when a girl is unhappy, i just tried to make it right
Sure i'm a catch, she'd be insane not to want me
With my Best Piss in the Snow award and my miniature backyard tee-pee
Now we're on the road, heading east of wherever
She's snoring in the backseat; dunno why i'm the designated driver
She'll wake up and want to grab a bite of something nice
Hey, whatdya know, i'll just lie back and enjoy the ride!
THE TWILIGHT ZONE : Nancy Speaks
What is it with men and their unending musing
About love and lust and the nonsense in-between?
All i wanted was a roll in the sack
But before i knew it, i was told to pack
'He'll kill me, he's seen your letter!" was his plaintive cry
"But.. but.. how did he know?" was my confused reply.
Two days now, and i wonder where i went wrong,
One love letter that fell in the other's hands
Ted and my man, both dumber than bricks
Can't see that i'm not interested in their sticks
There IS true love, but neither of them know
That it's Ted's wife i'd rather blow...
THE DARKEST HOUR BEFORE DAWN : Ted's Wife Speaks
My neighbor is sweet, her name was Nancy
Dunno why, but i'd caught her fancy
I have the curves and high heeled shoes
But there's always a few inches a girl can lose
Ted's been patient, but he's reached the end of his tether
And i can see why he'd jump the fence over
Nancy probably wanted to see a little city-side whirl
The truth is, she's all woman, that girl
With her winks and her lip-licking trickery
It's possible this village is too small for her witchery
Grabbing her mink jacket and Slims that she smokes
She thinks she's ready to open new doors
My door would be the wrong one, i'll have to admit
Because while she's gorgeous, i'm surely not the best fit
Two women together may be her dream come true
But my problems are really too big for two
One of the issues is that i like a Man's wood
And the other is that i'm really a dude.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Of Ex's And Why's...
My Valentine's Day post is long overdue though it has been on my mind for a while. The truth is, while I don't believe that the day a saint died is a day for much celebration, I do believe in the overall emotion of the day - greeting cards and florists notwithstanding. The truth is - I ENJOY love. I enjoy it in people around me, I enjoy it in the cutesy behaviors (regardless of the eye-rolling I do), I enjoy it in the total hopefulness that is manifested. Nothing could possibly go wrong when one is in love.
Just recently, I encountered Sam. It's been a long 5 years since that relationship ended, a long 5 years where I've slowly put my life back together. And... (I know I've said it a few times before).. I smiled. Genuinely. I suddenly remember all the laughs we used to have. I remember what I loved about him. I remember the moments of pure joy I felt when i was around him, the little surprises we planned for each other, how being in love made me nicer. It was great... because I felt no bitterness. At all. Today, when I think of him, it's with a smile.
Then, a few weeks ago, I went to attend a friend's wedding, and bumped into another ex-from-another-lifetime. He'd recently gotten married, and there was a lot of history there between us - in short, his then-off-again-on-again-girlfriend-now-wife had slept with my then-new-boyfriend-now-nobody in what I call the "revenge-fuck" strategy. Clearly, his relationship had absorbed the hit, while mine had disintegrated over that and other issues. Lots of water, under several bridges. And today, a decade later, we were finally talking to each other again. It was great... and odd, because he kept insisting on raking over the scabs of those old wounds... only to discover that there was no pain there anymore.
In celebration, and in a kind of maudlin frame of mind (everyone's getting married and I'm nowhere near even a normal relationship!) I went to meet Tammy, a man I work with sometimes and have a minor crush on. And what was supposed to last the duration of a sobering cup of coffee and perhaps one cigarette lasted for 7 hours. We watched the sun come up as we talked about his disintegrating marriage, my love life, movies and stories, my daddy-issues, his mommy-issues... No, neither of us "made a move". But there's something to be said about the intimacy of quiet conversation in the middle-of-the-night silence, surrounded by the muted hum of the coffee machine and the low growl of intermittent traffic... It was a perfect setting to unexpectedly connect with someone I barely ever talk to, except about work.
And this is what I realize. I find it difficult to reach out and be 'personal' with someone except with people who've known me for years. I can talk for hours about work and stories and scripts and deadlines and edits and the state of the world, and the ideal nature of relationships and everything else in between, but when it comes to my life, about telling someone how I feel about them, about letting them know that I miss them, that they can so easily become a priority in my life with just the littlest amount of encouragement... I run to the hills. It's likely that all this springs from a crushingly low sense of self worth (After all, nobody I like could possibly like me!!) or an irrational fear of plumbing my emotional depths and discovering once and for all that I AM a sociopath...
Whatever be the reason... In this season of love, I'm beginning to feel like being brave enough to give love some kind of way in...
Now if only I knew how (*breaking out in a sweat*)...!
Just recently, I encountered Sam. It's been a long 5 years since that relationship ended, a long 5 years where I've slowly put my life back together. And... (I know I've said it a few times before).. I smiled. Genuinely. I suddenly remember all the laughs we used to have. I remember what I loved about him. I remember the moments of pure joy I felt when i was around him, the little surprises we planned for each other, how being in love made me nicer. It was great... because I felt no bitterness. At all. Today, when I think of him, it's with a smile.
Then, a few weeks ago, I went to attend a friend's wedding, and bumped into another ex-from-another-lifetime. He'd recently gotten married, and there was a lot of history there between us - in short, his then-off-again-on-again-girlfriend-now-wife had slept with my then-new-boyfriend-now-nobody in what I call the "revenge-fuck" strategy. Clearly, his relationship had absorbed the hit, while mine had disintegrated over that and other issues. Lots of water, under several bridges. And today, a decade later, we were finally talking to each other again. It was great... and odd, because he kept insisting on raking over the scabs of those old wounds... only to discover that there was no pain there anymore.
In celebration, and in a kind of maudlin frame of mind (everyone's getting married and I'm nowhere near even a normal relationship!) I went to meet Tammy, a man I work with sometimes and have a minor crush on. And what was supposed to last the duration of a sobering cup of coffee and perhaps one cigarette lasted for 7 hours. We watched the sun come up as we talked about his disintegrating marriage, my love life, movies and stories, my daddy-issues, his mommy-issues... No, neither of us "made a move". But there's something to be said about the intimacy of quiet conversation in the middle-of-the-night silence, surrounded by the muted hum of the coffee machine and the low growl of intermittent traffic... It was a perfect setting to unexpectedly connect with someone I barely ever talk to, except about work.
And this is what I realize. I find it difficult to reach out and be 'personal' with someone except with people who've known me for years. I can talk for hours about work and stories and scripts and deadlines and edits and the state of the world, and the ideal nature of relationships and everything else in between, but when it comes to my life, about telling someone how I feel about them, about letting them know that I miss them, that they can so easily become a priority in my life with just the littlest amount of encouragement... I run to the hills. It's likely that all this springs from a crushingly low sense of self worth (After all, nobody I like could possibly like me!!) or an irrational fear of plumbing my emotional depths and discovering once and for all that I AM a sociopath...
Whatever be the reason... In this season of love, I'm beginning to feel like being brave enough to give love some kind of way in...
Now if only I knew how (*breaking out in a sweat*)...!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Breaking Bad
When do you know that it's time to quit? Some decisions are easy... and others...
A couple of nights ago, I found myself having an impromptu drink with a few people from work. Along with the couple of drinks, I also ended up smoking a lot - mostly out of boredom, and some of it out of the restlessness of having nothing to do with my hands. This morning, I woke up with this feeling of getting slowly choked... swallowing is uncomfortable. Close on the heels of that discovery came the thought - My grandpa had throat cancer, the first signs of which manifested in trouble swallowing. And boom, as of this morning, I have officially quit smoking.
Then, a couple of years ago, I met VJ. Over the last few years I've gotten to know him slightly better, but not much. That's a problem today, even though it wasn't when we started. A few years ago, no-strings-attached was all that I had space for. Today, I have a lot more to give and, perhaps, the more difficult thing of being able to receive. The truth is, I do like him - he's sweet and enthusiastic and has passion for his life. That's a rare thing to find, and I would like to hold on to it. But I have to admit that holding on to people requires effort from all the people involved. He's lovely, but - as the movie made very clear - he's just not that into me. And that means, I honestly, albeit reluctantly, have to lock that slightly ajar door, that he's walked through often, and lose the key.
And finally I look at my life of writing movies. Every film I have written has been fraught with trouble. My first film - huge heartbreak and enormous personal meltdown. Also, screenplay turned into an awful film. My second film (big banner, sought after director, etc) - shelved indefinitely, causes unknown. My third film - very supportive director and producer, great story, everyone's happy with how it's all playing out - and then my Director dies. Right now that film is stuck in writing limbo. The screenplay keeps getting tossed around to different people for their opinions, and because all people bring their own unique worldview into anything they read, each opinion is wildly different - all of which my producer (well-intentioned, highly suggestible non-writer) wants incorporated into this "Film that will be the best film ever made". I'm frustrated with this entire process and I wonder if the Universe is flashing the "Stop Writing For Movies" sign that I'm just not seeing.
Are all of these habits that need to be broken...?
A couple of nights ago, I found myself having an impromptu drink with a few people from work. Along with the couple of drinks, I also ended up smoking a lot - mostly out of boredom, and some of it out of the restlessness of having nothing to do with my hands. This morning, I woke up with this feeling of getting slowly choked... swallowing is uncomfortable. Close on the heels of that discovery came the thought - My grandpa had throat cancer, the first signs of which manifested in trouble swallowing. And boom, as of this morning, I have officially quit smoking.
Then, a couple of years ago, I met VJ. Over the last few years I've gotten to know him slightly better, but not much. That's a problem today, even though it wasn't when we started. A few years ago, no-strings-attached was all that I had space for. Today, I have a lot more to give and, perhaps, the more difficult thing of being able to receive. The truth is, I do like him - he's sweet and enthusiastic and has passion for his life. That's a rare thing to find, and I would like to hold on to it. But I have to admit that holding on to people requires effort from all the people involved. He's lovely, but - as the movie made very clear - he's just not that into me. And that means, I honestly, albeit reluctantly, have to lock that slightly ajar door, that he's walked through often, and lose the key.
And finally I look at my life of writing movies. Every film I have written has been fraught with trouble. My first film - huge heartbreak and enormous personal meltdown. Also, screenplay turned into an awful film. My second film (big banner, sought after director, etc) - shelved indefinitely, causes unknown. My third film - very supportive director and producer, great story, everyone's happy with how it's all playing out - and then my Director dies. Right now that film is stuck in writing limbo. The screenplay keeps getting tossed around to different people for their opinions, and because all people bring their own unique worldview into anything they read, each opinion is wildly different - all of which my producer (well-intentioned, highly suggestible non-writer) wants incorporated into this "Film that will be the best film ever made". I'm frustrated with this entire process and I wonder if the Universe is flashing the "Stop Writing For Movies" sign that I'm just not seeing.
Are all of these habits that need to be broken...?
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Ache..
I watch the children play with their dreams
Toss them around, as if there'll always be more
A chip there, a crack within
Is laughed off, like just another joke
I feel the stranger's unspoken joy
As she lets her baby's hand slip from hers
Yet, terrified of his inevitable pain
As his infallibility bleeds out. amidst salty tears
I read the words on the screen
The ones I've longed for years on end
But now they're here, I'm tied in knots
In my safety nets, drowning slow
I hear the voices whispering soft
Muted laughter, carried by the wind
Jumping into my blinkered life
My silence disrupted, my lone walk exposed...
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