Happy Birthday to me!

Back after...what?...two years? I'm glad I have this anonymous space. Today is my birthday. I'm 27. Hurrayyyyyyyyyyy! You know what I'd been up to? I'd bunked work for a week now....and moped around the house coz I did not get a promotion I soooooooo totally (okay, mostly at least) I believe I deserve. Well, that's the excuse to mope around, but I'm actually clinically depressed. Oh forget about last week...I'm a little drunk right now...and when better to blog, right? I have a boyfriend now...did I tell you that? Happpened about 4 months ago. NOTHING's different, actually. :D Anti-climactic? YOU BET! If anything, its just that I feel like I'm obligated to call him everyday. I'm pretty sure he feels the same. Thank GOD we're not in the same city.

So anywayz, guess what I did tonight? I went dancing with another girl acquaintance...no point even pretending she's a friend. She's someone I keep in touch with for the sole purpose of going dancing. Thank god it too loud to even make any real conversation. So, I went to this place and blew a whole lot of money on glasses of ice with a squirt of alcohol in them and stared at the uncovered plumbing on the cieling, aghast that the five star hotel that I was in did not even bother to cover up the plumbing and put in a false cieling to "posh" it up a bit. What the FUCK am I paying Rs. 650 a drink for (mostly ice anywayz) at this place? So I can stare a ugly grey pipes and wonder WHY I'm spending the first few hours of my 27th birthday in a place I can hardly hear my thoughts with a person I hardly can call a friend? And then, coz it was almost obligatory, I pointed how much ripped off I felt to my acquaintance, who happens to be an interior designer of some sort. She said she was fine with it, and that, as an interior designer she "understood it." I felt I had to apologize for not getting the whole thing. I'm so sorry I'm out of it...I mean, yes...it totally makes sense that we go to a place where a glass of ice costs Rs. 650 and its "cool" to stand around in a cramped, smoky, smelly place being jostled by other sweaty bodies...and pretending to be all posh. Its clear I'm never going to belong in a place like that and I'm actually relieved, yes...but I must admit...a little wistfully :).

I finally got high enough to go "dance." That's the ONLY reason I can kinda give myself to justify all the stuff I just ranted about. Its cathartic, even if it feels crappy. And it WAS crappy. For the umpteenth time, some sleaze bag wanted to dance with us girls. This time, he was fat, like me. And after a while, I felt a kinship. I was like, oh...he'z prolly feeling awkward just like me...maybe we should stop avoiding him and let him actually dance with us. After two hours of being nice, he goes and hits on my skinny friend....of course! No good deed goes unpunished, right? Oh well...at least I got a smoke off of him. Only, I'm supposed to have quit. I even take a gazillion pictures of him and the skinny acquaintance coz I'm just such a nice girl. Alwayz ready to oblige, amn't I? :D I hope his dick shrivels, permanently.

We finally come back home, and I call up the boyfriend to lay a guilt trip on him for forgetting my birthday. After all, why should I be the only one miserable? He is suitably sorry and I say, "I did not want any gifts from you....I just need you to remember and wish me. Its not too much to ask, is it? I do appreciate the book you sent me via Flipkart...thank you soooooooooooo much! But, I really am disappointed that you forgot!" Yes, I know...I'm a horrible person, but I finally have a boyfriend after 26 years of being invisible and ignored. I want attention, if not from anywhere else, at least from him. It really is NOT too much to ask. Happy Birthday to me. I hope I get to sleep through the rest of the goddamn day. It has been so promising so far!

A G-Spot? Where is that now?

I don't even know why I did not look up what a G-spot is till now. Perhaps, I (we?) take our bodies for granted because, well, dang it, its right down there. And, I honestly don't know how I feel about my vagina. I haven't spoken about it for about 2/3rd of my life because my mother tongue doesn't have a word for it (See here). It was something never to be talked about. And then, once I moved out of home, we girls hardly talked about anything else. Boys, sex, and no-you-don't-get-pregnant-if-you-kiss. I suppose I was glad I knew more than the other girls and I could "educate" them about stuff actually works. Of course, the irony that they started using their parts right away while I"m still waiting doesn't escape me.

Turns out, I didn't really know much. A boy had to eventually tell me that there were three things down there. So much for my status as a "gyaan" giver! [Gyaan=knowledge.Used here as a euphemism.] And apparently, I'm still figuring out stuff...about body parts that may or may not exist which might or might not give me that ever-elusive orgasm. But I'm all for self-empowerment. So, ladies, I would really appreciate any gyaan you have for me. Are there other parts of me I don't know about?

Blue Period

Today, I want to cry. Nothing happened, really. Its just that I'm heart-broken and afraid. And I seem to have held if off well for a while, but it all came back, with a silly song and a few words and oh so many memories. Why can't we just be done with certain bits of our life? Shouldn't our blue periods be compartmentalized? Why must the stains seep into the rest of our lives?

Nice

My first attempt at the 100 Word post. Borrowed the idea from Baglady, who does such a phenomenal job with these. Do check her blog out if you haven't already!

Well, here's mine. :)
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Nice

You were a nice word, Nice, but you soon became blasé;
an empty word to take refuge in when I did not have much else to say,
when I was called upon to be polite,
when I could not be bothered anymore.

My education taught me to take you with a pinch of salt. I looked upon you and your buddy, Interesting, with suspicion. You meant back-handed insults or worse, apathy.

I went on a giddy trip with Awesome, Amazing and Insane. They showed me Awful, Fake and Depressing.

Now, I wonder…maybe you are enough. You are, after all, Nice!

Motherhood and such bollocks

This is jumping a coupla steps, I know. But its like the whole mother thing is in the air. I have to admit I've been wanting children for a while now. Yes, the same me who hasn't had a relationship yet and is trying to get rid of her cumbersome, bothersome virginity. I've had these feelings for about 3 years now, since I was...umm...22. Too young, no? The irony, tho, is that I'm such a child even today. I'm even more of a parasite now that I'm living with my parents. Its not a pretty picture.

But yes, I want kids. Maybe my reasons for wanting kids is not very healthy. I want kids so I can love them unconditionally and I'll also be the world to someone else...even if it is only for a little while. Sick, no? Anywho...this motherhood thing keeps popping up from time to time. I dream of how I would magically turn into this ultra-patient and serene mother figure. I also have horrific nightmares about what a horrible parent I'm going to be. But all the same, knowing I'm going to ruin lives, I want to be a mommy. I had to say this today prolly coz I saw an especially beautiful episode of the Cosby Show where Sondra gives birth to twins, or cause a really cute kid just dropped by our office or mostly because of this post.

All this is great, but no matter how radiant and glowing I might be, I ain't getting preggo. Adoption is the way for me...one day...soon...hopefully.