Past in the present

When there is something that is a significant part of your memories from yesteryears.. formative years more so, you tend to want to do it over and over again. That can be a pattern of behaviour, that can be the songs you heard, that can be the food you ate, that can be the kind of people you grew up being fond of, that can be the kind of life you wanted for yourself. You want a replay of yesteryears to be embedded in your present somewhere. Some people want it very consciously, some people don't know they do.. but they too want a replay of the fond memories somewhere embedded in their day to day life. When it doesn't happen you find yourself looking for something that is missing. You may have had the most tumultuous childhood, but they were your golden years. They were when you were a naive innocent person. They were when you didn't think life had to be this tough. You want reminders and assurance that life is still good. 

Hope it turns out to be that way for all of us. 

Good luck. Dream on. :)

Love,
Doublelifer.

I am alive! (Yay!)

I'd been feeling this numbness in hands and feet after I abruptly woke up from sleep sometimes - especially in my hands. Particularly very noticably during flights.

It was a bit tingly and went away after a bit or after i flexed my hands. But it had me worried alright! The discomfort also catapulted since I had a couple of extremely long flights in a short period of time lately.

So the diagnosis began. The first couple of searches I did, I got things like Stroke, paralysis and well, rheumatoid arthritis.

A random conversation with my sister, and she tells me our aunt has begun developing rheumatoid arthritis. I didn't know about it. So I asked her to explain what that meant. As she explained, I felt - whoa! This is it! This is what has happened to me! I don't tell her that though.

I look it up on wiki. I look at the picture of the hand. I look at my hand. Well, my pinky finger has always been a little on a different angle from my other fingers. I take a picture of my hand to compare. My imagination starts running wild. As always.

The plot thickens.

I get reeeaally worried. Nooo! What about my 12 children from the future? What will happen to them if I am going to be terminally ill?

But I then got to this thread:

'Numbness in hand after waking up from sleep' on Wrong Diagnosis

Eureka! It's the posture! It's the posture!

I am ecstatic!

This makes more sense - and this was the only non-life-threatening; or atleast non chronic thing I could find. Even though, ironically, the site is called "wrong diagnosis". Well, in my case it doesn't seem so wrong. Atleast more right than all the other diagnoses I came up with. Rheumatoid arthritis can wait until I'm 45. Or something. Atleast? Please?  :-/

Lord! Am I turning into a hypochondriac? Or is it just that I am growing old!

Oh well...

Love and Good Health,  

Doublelifer

Chicago

My Chicago Trip. Also, my first overseas trip.

So the place is beautiful. Clean and organized - which is pleasing.

I love travelling, love seeing new places. But I don't quite get the big deal about this country. Home is, and will always be India. Swadesh. No, I am not a cynic. Just, I don't get why people (in my country I mean) seem to be going bonkers about shifting to the United States of America (Except for more money maybe?).

Make no mistake, I am definitely looking forward to the rest of my trip. Just saying, since I was hoping to be struck by awesomeness when I reached here - given the number of people going wow about here. But it felt like, okay great.. but blah! No magic. What's the fuss about the american dream?

Here's some pictures I've taken so far.

Chicago Apr 2011

Love.

p.s. - The food here is oh-my-god-so-fattening! I hope that I magically don't put on more weight over the -next 2 weeks! :-/

On women: Our (un)complicated selves

They say women are complicated. I don't think so. 

Little things affect us. In a big way. Good things as well as bad things. Quicker and in a deeper way than men can imagine maybe. But does that make us complicated? I don't think so. 

In fact, maybe we're too simple for them to understand. Which makes us seem complicated.

Why did I start off on this line of thought?

Well, the housemaid just left after her daily chores (more than usual given that it is Sunday), and left me with a feeling of contentment.

Why am I happy? 

I simply love the way the house smells slightly of the floor cleaner and the tiles are shining clear and bright. The floor cleaner doesn't quite have the extracts of the rarest of rare flora carefully packaged by a French perfume seller. That is not what this is about. 

I am not denying that I love perfume, in fact I am a sucker for things that smell good.

What I am saying though, is that what makes me happy is the feeling of something getting to a more organized state is fulfilling. 

So we - the womankind, are famed to be multitaskers. And we are too. Inside our heads, though, we tend to be chaotic and panic when there's any unfinished business. More so, when there's multiple unfinished tasks. These tasks don't have to be those assigned to us by anybody else. These don't have to be of world changing significance. Just the fact that we feel something should be done is enough to add an item to the "unfinished" list. 

I see the kitchen platform getting cleaned up, I see the garbage bag being replaced, I see the vessels getting washed and kept into their respective racks, I see the bathroom floor getting washed, And then I see the maid sit down and have her tea (which I made while she finished the chores); while she and I talk about her soon to be married daughter in broken hindi and english - since we have a language difference - And I experience the feeling of pure bliss. I find that I am smiling inside. My attention soon drifts to the laundry basket waiting to be emptied into the washing machine.

Small things make us happy. Small things make us sad too. And they say we're complicated? Not quite. :)

Love,

Me.

P.S. - Happy Holi folks. :)

Dream. Try.

At the end of the day, you are on your own. People would come along, be nice to you, walk a little while beside you. They may stay back. They may not. You don't know. You make whatever you will of your life. And, if you think you're not where you wanted to be - you took some bad decisions while on your way here. Maybe you have a chance to rectify your mistakes, maybe you don't. You can only try. You'll never know for sure. Keep trying to get where you want to be. I wish I wasn't where I am too. But there's another possibility. Maybe tomorrow I will want to be where I am. Maybe this is part of the larger plan. Maybe I just don't know yet. Maybe if I keep trying to get out of this place I will succeed. Wish I knew what the plan is. You can't stop yourself from wanting things you're not certain of getting. That's what dreaming is about. You dream, you try. If you fall, you hurt. You stand up, you walk on, you heal. Sometimes it takes longer to heal, but heal you do. If you lose sight of this rationale when you're broken, it's alright. It will come to you. We're all unsure. We're all wary. We're all lost souls swimming in the fish bowl. We're all part of the larger game plan. We're specks of dust. We want to be happy specks. We dream of better days.

Love.

Save Our Tigers | Join the Roar

Title: Save Our Tigers | Join the Roar
Link: http://gotaf.socialtwist.com/redirect?l=-827999872460968069321

Return of the Insomniac

I need sleep.

I am not getting any.

I'm attempting to bore myself to sleep by writing nonsensical and/or incoherent information here.

I thought I had successfully overcome my long running insomnia. I don't know when it appeared again. But it has been around for some weeks now.

As I ramble on about not getting sleep (instead of switching off the lights, getting into the bed and actually trying to sleep), realization strikes - I have less than 4 hours left to catch up on my sleep before the despised doorbell starts ringing with the calls of the milkman, newspaper, housemaid and the cleaning lady as they start paying their daily visits. You might think I can ignore the doorbell and carry on sleeping - since anyone would probably ring a couple of times and leave. I wish! I've tried using that tactic a couple of times (very unsuccessfully) when I've felt the need for some extra hours of my therapeutic beauty sleep (or when I've spent the whole night awake again).

Out of these daily visitors, the housemaid seems to have consecrated the mornings to making sure we're all up (and very very grumpy). If you don't open the door within 2 rings of the doorbell; oh Good Lord, she bangs her fists on the door with incomprehensible draconian fury which has the capability to scare the living daylights out of a comatose person too!!! You can't help it! All you can do is jump out of the bed, run (to the door) for your life and let the woman in!

She makes as much noise as can possibly be made with whatever weapons are available to her - vessels, the broom, her very annoying vocal chords, and loud thumping of the floor with her feet with every step she takes while she walks around the house (I've got not clue how she's got so good at that!). If these indirect measures do not work well enough, she'll scream out our names to ask why a dish is lying where it is and even though it is very visibly dirty - are we sure we want it cleaned up?

(still not sleepy)

So after all this "hoo-haa" you expect the woman to be really detail oriented when it comes to cleaning up and go berserk if even a tiny spec of dust is visible anywhere in the house. Far cry from that!!! She's frustratingly bad!!!! She fails to see a Big Dark Brown Blotch on a Huge White Coffee Mug!

(Okay I'm beginning to sound very grumpy. Good Sign. But I still am not sleepy. :| )

Good thing the insomnia got me back to the blog though.

I think I'll make a move and try to get at least two hours of sleep.

Will be back! (soon)

Love,

Devil's own