You Know You’ve Been Staring At MS Word For Too Long When…

…You start writing poetry for the Office Assistant!

Fake cat, sleeping away on my windows’ screen,

On MS Word as I work and toil and sniffle unseen,

What do you dream when you sleep?

You sad excuse, for help in case of electronic need

I search and you pretend to write,

The page is blank as I can plainly see,

Your little pink tongue is held out in concentration,

Your yellow tail held erect as if ready for confrontation.

Press enter and you sit up as smug as you please,

The way you swirl your tail, you’d think you’d written a treatise.

I try, I really do, to tell you this isn’t what I was asking,

But you look at me as if within you are laughing,

At me, saying, I am after all only a cat!

What were you thinking?

You give me unhelpful hints,

and You scratch for every little thing!

My grammar’s good enough,

So stop criticising!

And I don’t care what you think,

You’re fake and a cat,

So stop trying to change my spelling!

And yet there are times,

As I work and toil and sniffle unseen,

And there has been too much tea and too little sleep.

So that, when you purr and stretch and give me a grin,

I am glad,

For, though fake, you still are a companion.

I know you don’t care,

That I dedicate this to you,

You’re happy just being a Microsoft tool.

But then again it is to be expected,

You’re a cat and cupboard love is, after all, intrinsic.

These Are The Weeks Of Work

The title perhaps is self explanatory and hardly worth a post. But I had to record it for posterity sake - A DEFINITE Sentence of My Intention and Ambition - These Are The Weeks Of Work. There is a tangibility that the thought acquires when you say it out loud , when you type it out (with every word beginning with a Capital) and send it out into the digital void.

These Are The Weeks Of Work

and Hope.

Choices…

Something new forsaken for

something old kept.

Missed opportunity  perhaps;

I can’t bring myself to care.

Or more aptly,

Secretly, I wonder why?

Inherent laziness? Fear of Change?

Or God Forbid!

Cupboard Love?

For this dreary little place.

I regret it!

And don’t; all at the same time.

And wish a futile wish

like others have wished before me

that we knew the results

of our choices

before it was their time.

On Not Thinkin’ On My Laptop

I decided to write on paper the day I decided to quit writing on my laptop. That, of course, is not the right way of saying that. I guess what I should say, is that I decided to ‘think’ on paper the day I decided to quit thinking on my laptop. There, I’ve set myself up for countless snide remarks of ridicule.

As a kid I wrote on paper; in fact, I wrote almost exclusively on the reverse of my journal. (It was a ‘secret diary’ from ages 10 to 13; from ages 13-17 it was a ‘diary’; now, of course, in polite company I call it a journal.) If you flip my old journals and start reading from the back you will find copious amount of really bad literature. The key word to be noted being ‘copious’.

Over time I discovered the wonders of the electronic age – the word processor and I have been a sucker for it ever since. It helps that ‘once college happened’ I actually had a legitimate reason to be caught glued to my laptop, typing away like crazy. 15000 words, by tomorrow morning? No problem! Where’s my trusted laptop?

A lot of people I know can’t do this. They have to write ever last word down on paper before they can begin the painful task of typing it out on word. They say they can’t think on their laptops. (Yes, I made all the necessary snide remarks of ridicule.) I’ve also read articles were authors bemoan the loss of traditional joys of writing as more and more people turn to the word processor. Some even admitted that they were far more comfortable using paper.

Was I - a puny non entity who writes crap either ways in the face of honest admission by writers who had already proved their mettle and therefore could if they wish chose toilet paper as a medium if it caught their fancy and still get book deals - smug? You bet I was!

I had nice one lined thoughts on the issue which I filled away for future autobiographical reference. ( I do this, so that once I get famous I’ll have profound things to say.) ‘It’s so convenient!’ I would say with a wide fake smile as if I was on a tele-brand advertisement for the food processor.

The trouble began when I actually started believing the crap I thought up. (Do not point out the fallacies in the previous sentence; I am aware!)

I started believing that the neat and tidy 12 Georgia font-ed text that I produced on word was of far better ‘literary’ quality than higgly-piggly squiggle that I produced on paper. I started feeling unsatisfied with the finished product when I wrote on paper.

The A-Awful exam scared the living daylights out of me: Precisely because I couldn’t write! I had beautiful white blank paper before me and the words just didn’t come; Me…I, who could churn out ten pages in less than 30 minutes if really needed, couldn’t get my head to cooperate.

That is, I think, when I decided that I didn’t want to have these stupid mind blocks in my head that I can only write well on my laptop or that my thoughts don’t flow well on paper. I love writing and it shouldn’t matter where or how or on what!

That is the reason why I am reduced to copying out this text word for word from paper and let me tell you, my higgly- piggly squiggle has never looked more attactive.

And yeah, Snide remarks of Ridicule (I just love saying that)over my self obsession are as always welcome.

American Gods

Last year about this time, I was fervently in love with the idea of Urban Fantasy. There was something quite enticing about the idea. A nice modern setting peopled with all sorts of fantastical/ gothic creatures and elements. It was a genre in which I wanted to read copious amounts so that I could somehow get a feel of how to merge the two seemingly polar opposites together. Like I said, I was drawn to it, I still am.

That’s how I stumbled across Neil Gaiman’s work and for me American Gods stands out as one of the best in the genre. It is such an intricately crafted work, with different elements all meshing together. The truth is the idea of Gods coming to American soil or being created by faith was not in itself completely new. Somehow the idea reminded me of Rudyard Kipling’s ‘Puck of Pooks’ Hill’, (I love this book for some reason and this book was perhaps the only reason why I finished Kim.) which has somewhat slightly similar premise.

It helps of course that it incorporates large chunks of Mythology (I adore that). I wish my knowledge of Norse Mythology was a little better though and I remember finishing the book and making up my mind to look it up a bit more. (Then college happened and I am still stuck at that :D) My own personal peeve with the book is the slight error when it comes to Kali. (Now I am not quite sure, but surely the character is not supposed to be addressed as mamaji?)

Shadow…I was so surprised when I realised how much I liked this character. I am usually far more easily impressed by the flashier, fast talking smart-alecky characters. But Shadow had this inane quietness to him…a self-possession I guess. You ‘got’ Shadow through his quietness…no unnecessary words about what he thought or what expression he wore. He is on the most surreal ride of his life and unlike many characters that would have had a dozen questions or more about this situation he just accepts it with a shrug. A friend of mine found him a little too passive…a tad dumb she said, but that’s not how I felt about him.

Laura…Laura…Laura…okay, here’s the thing. I hate it when the main protagonist already has a love interest from the beginning. This stems from reading as a child too many swash buckling adventures where the hero leaves his hometown to have a hell lot of awesome adventures and meets up with amazing new people and creatures and he still comes home to settle with his childhood sweetheart. I have always detested the early love interest because the chance that the main character will continue to live a life of adventure when there is this stupid person waiting at home was pretty slim. (okay, okay so I was ten years old and adventures were way better than an ew! Romance.)

Though I am a vastly more mature (stop laughing!) person today, an early love interest is still not very high on my list of favourite things about a book…but Laura I have to admit kind of rocked.

She was downright creepy and morbid (in a good way, it must be understood). The common place scenarios that Shadow’s interactions with her usually took place in added to the eerie quality of their relationship and I am glad their strange slightly extended relationship resolved itself in the way it was meant to be (albeit by a more fantastical means.)

I loved the restless atmosphere of the book. It starts right at the beginning and it stays with Shadow throughout…the ‘there’s something more‘ quality. I was so very smug about predicting some of the many twist and turns that I was really surprised that I didn’t notice the biggest twist of them all until the eleventh hour and so all I could do was go: “Hey! I should have seen that coming!”. Hugely Satisfying.

Lastly why I know that I really liked the book is how it made me feel as I read it. I am one of those ruthless readers who go through books with all the speed of a hurricane. Many point out that you miss the nuances in a book when you do that, that you must let it grow on you and so on and so forth. But what I know from experience is that with good books I make a conscious effort to slow down. I don’t want the book to end and so I’ll read a Para and I’ll put the book down deliberately and walk around the house but because it’s a good book I’ll end up making beeline to it inevitably within the next ten minutes. Good books make me restless…fill me with an urge to read and also not to read…weird huh?

Ps: As an aside, American Gods is one of the few books in which I had a real person in my head as I read through it. The thing is I was watching Prison Break at that point of time and weirdly enough Wentworth Miller fills my head every time I think of Shadow. Not that it had anything to do with why I liked the character

Edited to add: Over the last year, I’ve read more of his work and my literary crush on him is advanced enough that I’ll push his books into people’s faces with the ominous threat of ‘Read it or Else‘. As I can’t do that to you and as I still feel it’s my duty to guide you to his work( if you still haven’t read it), I’m settling with providing a link to his blog

Post 1 of One Year At Law School: Dealing with the Disillusionment

I know this girl who left one of the best of the national law schools (let’s just call it Bla-Bla shall we and no, I am not taking any perverse pleasure in calling this premier institution Bla-Bla). One of our earliest conversations went like this:

Me: So you left Bla-Bla for this (for the record I have the utmost respect for this but compared to bla-bla, this was no competition)

Her: Yes.

Me: ARE YOU CRAZY???

Her: It just wasn’t what I expected it to be.

Me: I repeat, ARE YOU CRAZY???

I still don’t know whether her choice was for the better, but I do understand it better now. There’s a lot of disillusionment attached to our first reception of law and law schools. For a lot of us, doing law from what are purported to be the best institutions in the country is an idea that appeals to our Perry Mason/Boston Legal/ John Grisham/ Insert own law fantasy book, movie , TV show addled brain. The University has to be a cut above the rest, the education offered in it a brilliant dazzling epiphany, its professors have to be compelling illum…er… you get the picture?

All this codswallop hope that you have of the place crumbles before your first lecture in the place gets over. Actually sometimes it happens a lot faster.

Imagine sixty odd fresh from school lot cramped into a tiny class room in the middle of summer waiting for there first lecture.

Instead of the wizened old professor, in walks well…I know appearances should not matter but seriously…

Hello! I AM CHOCKO!!!

One permanent grin and countless pjs after, everyone is rearing back in their seat in abject horror. It’s so hot that it a human rights violation to hold us in class and Chocko has long ago started talking in Latin…like really.

I can say with utter certainity that I know at least one person who made up her mind to call it quits right after the first day in class and quite a few did the same in the months that followed.

Disillusionment …heaps of it. In all shapes and sizes. I guess a huge amount of it stems from having their fantasies of the place broken. For a lot of us, getting into law school has been a long term plan; they worked their arses off to get through the competitive exam and they are entitled to dream about this place.

Weirdly enough, I turned out to be one of the few who escaped the initial disillusionment bug. This may have a lot to do with the fact that I had never ever not in a million years thought I would be studying law! Law school kinda just happened (not that I didn’t work my arse off, but it still was a lot more eleventh hour than the ordinary). So I didn’t have that many great fantasies of the place and in a way I guess I got lucky.

Truth is I think as far as law is concerned (and maybe it holds through for most courses too) you have to give it time. I’ve heard a lot of my seniors say that if you can get through the first semester of law school, without cracking, you’re gonna be okay. That probably is the best attitude.

And law takes time to grow on you. It takes time to go through a sixty page judgement (oh come on, I was in first year! I am not going to read some insanely big judgement!) and to finally decipher the sheer subtle brilliance of the reasoning behind it or to read a1760 case and marvel at the fact that the judgement holds to this very day.

And though you may never really understand what Chocko taught you in class you might discover much to your surprise that the guy for all his ranting on setting the hardest paper ever, is still a softy when it comes to correction and more importantly unless you actually take his optional papers (in which case you really are crazy), you only have one more class with him in the five years that follow.

One Year At Law School : An Introduction

One Year At Law School, I keep scribbling that on my note pad, in hopes that some profound thought would strike me; in hopes, that I would be able to write something revelatory on my experience and wrap up my first year with a nice one lined eulogy. But as always I only get static.

I could probably say: ‘it has been one hell of a year,’ or pass on an ‘endearing’ phrase to law student aspirants everywhere: ‘Welcome to Law School. Get ready, to be Counter-Striked.’ But there is something neat about these lines that just don’t explain the messy half done feel that I have for the first year.

The post/posts that follow therefore are hardly clear on where the hell are they heading and are at best scribbled down half thoughts of someone who finally has a holiday!

Awful

I was going to crib about the A-awful exam paper I wrote. About how I messed it up, and messed it up badly! I was going to crib about how Awful I felt after the exam, that I didn’t even feel the sickening high that comes post depressive paper where amidst cheery pop music you decide that you are going to do better the next time. I was going to crib about how I just curled up after that on my bed drinking way too much Lemon Tang and watching back to back episodes of Gossip Girl (Sympathy T.V anyone?) and how I woke up late today with no work done and one hell of a lemon tang – gossip girl combined hangover…going Ugh…Ugh…Ugh

But my darling mum just called to tell her wayward child how utterly she does not care if the said child screwed up her paper and she can hardly wait to have her wayward daughter back home so that she can fill her up with family gossip and home cooking.

I’ve got three more awful papers to go and three more awful study sessions to go with them and I am just dreading it. But I know it’s going to be okay and that’s a start.

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Ps: Oh and Gossip Girl…Yeah…I like Chuck…That’s Right…Chuck! There is something fundamentally wrong in saying that out loud. I am victim of the bad boy act. Sigh.

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Now playing: Death Cab for Cutie - The Sound of Settling
via FoxyTunes

Google Search Love…

Reasons To Love Google: Reason :4678

Try searching for  “What is the answer to life the universe and everything?” and google throws up quite emphatically the number 42. The geeky coolness of it makes me want to grin all day.

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Now playing: Death Cab For Cutie - I Will Follow You into the Dark
via FoxyTunes

Sociologically Speaking…

Sociologically Speaking…

We live outwardly projecting,

embellishing who we should be

over who we are

when

righteous protests against far off horror

raucous laughter for obscure humour

revulsion for the conservative opinion

and

painfully, politically correct expressions

slip out reflexively

coz it’s expected

coz it’s progressive

coz it’s of course right

we’re good mimics

you and me

At imitating who we should be.

__________________________

I probably stole the crown from Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex England, eh?