Blogsta's Paradise

What it do homiessss.

I’ve been rewatching The Wire again and yeah it still is the greatest television series period ever period full-stop period actual period. You can tell when I’ve been watching The Wire because for a few hours after I usually talk in “gangsta”. My building cat Meow (I know) can testify to this because when you’re working the graveyard shift and you only step out of the house to throw the garbage in the middle of the night, the building cat is the only other living being you meet in person. 

I also downloaded Bumble and Hinge in January and I’m proud to report I’ve gone on a grand total of 0 (zero) dates in person so far. Yep, that’s right — I’m just as useless at socialising online as I am in person. 

But I think part of that problem is that I just don’t seem to have the patience to go through the whole process of getting to know the other and meet on dates and talk and blah blah blah. I just want to sit at home with someone and binge watch Euphoria and order in and cuddle and maybe go grocery shopping or make unnecessary decor purchases for our house and maybe get a dog together and also just walk around the neighbourhood and make travel plans that actually pan out (yeah, of course I wasted that week-long holiday last month lol, what did you expect from this lazy fuck?) and also have someone to talk to other than the building cat — I love Meow, but I need someone to also tell me to stfu in English sometimes.

Speaking of sad, pathetic things — it’s also nearly the third anniversary of my forced exit from the only place I’ve ever felt at home. I can never fully explain how terrifying it felt to have to give up everything and move out of a country, or about the night terrors I had for months after. There are some hardships you can look back on and think you learned something from it and almost be glad it happened — this was not one of those times. If there was ANYTHING I could do to go back and find some way to stay back, or find a different way out, I would do it in a heartbeat. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Bee tee dubs, I went to the Lulu store in Bangalore and nearly cried when I saw the KHUBZ AND CROISSANTS AND CAKES AND AND BARBICAN AND THE GIGANTIC BUTCHERY THAT I NEVER BUY MEAT FROM BUT IT JUST LOOKED SO NICE AND THE READY-TO-EAT HOT FOODS PLACE WITH MALABAR FOOD AND THE SALES DUDES IN WHITE SHIRTS AND NAVY BLUE PANTS AND THE LULU TIES. Okay, who am I kidding — of course I actually cried.

Also, I know I was supposed to be doing these blogs like once a week but… I guess once a month is better than nothing, right?

Song recommendation of the week month:

Blogaluru

How is that even though I’m back home in Bangalore and have so much more free time, I still can’t manage to find the time to sit down and string together a few hundred words together for the blog?

Oh well. At least I’m finally doing it now. 

Halfway into the first month of 2022 and we’re already in a (near) lockdown. As long as things don’t get too bad, I guess we should be grateful that we’re getting this done with at the start of the year this time around. I can finally make a definite plan for that solo road trip I’ve been wanting to do ever since I bought my car. Where should I go? Pondicherry? Waynad? Coorg? HYDERABAD AGAIN?!?!?!!!

I’ve also finally started working on filling my house here with actual furniture and making it feel like a home, instead of just waiting for things to “get back to normal” before feeling like I need to settle in here. I bought a couch! And my sister bought me a nice TV table that fits perfectly in the corner of my living room. I can finally entertain more than three people at a time. Next up — buying my own bed instead of renting one.

Gotta tell ya, I’ve got a good feeling about this year. Mainly because I have no resolutions and no expectations and no plans. I’m going to just relax, and take my time and do whatever I need to, to make myself live the best possible life I’ve wanted to and OMG I’M TURNING 33 IN SIX MONTHS???@!@$#@Q#$!~)(!

*deep breath in* 
*deep breath out*

!#$@#*R$#()*$#!($#!(@*#)!($!

Okay but seriously. 2022’s the year of not trying to worry about the end of the world. It’s hard to do that when your job literally requires you to read about everything that’s wrong with the world. But it’s important to have downtime that doesn’t involve trying to drown your worries in alcohol on the first day of your weekend and then waste the whole of the second day recovering from the hangover of said alcohol drowning. 

First on the agenda this year is figuring out how to spend an unexpected free stretch of about nine days at the end of January because I was supposed to travel to Mumbai for a few days but since that’s not happening I need to do something to keep my occupied or I’m going to lose it sitting at home and watching TV and not have anything to do except alternate between the whole drinking and recovering thing I do on weekends except this time it’ll be like a weekend every day non-stop for nine days at a stretch and that’s definitely not a healthy thing to do right yeah I think so too.

I also realise I should probably start working on structuring these blogs a bit better. I never know what I’m going to write until I sit down in front of the laptop and just vomit words onto a document. Maybe working on a 150 words at a time and then putting it all together when I cross 1,000? Thoughts? Hit me up. No really, hit me up. It's getting a bit lonely up in here.

Also, thanks to my colleague for gifting me this extremely interesting read that I’m yet to read. I promise I won’t procrastinate and fini — OH YAY THE NEW BOBA FETT EPISODE’S OUT! 

Song recommendation of the month I guess because god knows when I'll be blogging again:

Bloggitty blog

OH YEAH IT’S BLOG TIME!!!!

I know it’s been a while, but honestly nothing much has been happening in my life for me to actually blog about in the past couple of weeks, at least. 

So instead of writing about what I’ve been doing, I’m going to write about what I’ve been feeling and thinking about of late. It’s going to sound like the incoherent ramblings of an old fool… and that’s exactly what it is.

I work as a journalist, and even though I’m extremely blessed to be working for one of largest news organisations in the world and have some down time whenever I need it, I still feel the same amount of stress I did when I’d work 6 days a week for a daily tabloid. Is it the people? Is it the work? Is it because I give way more attention to my professional life than my (joke of a) personal life? It’s a little bit of each, I’m sure.

I’ve already told a couple of people that I’m going to try to focus on my writing and music this coming year. I wouldn’t really call it a New Year’s Resolution seeing as I’ve begun working on one of those things already. I really hope I can stick to it, though — and putting this out online will give me some accountability at least. 

I’ve been trying to listen to newer music too, but I just don’t seem to have the patience to listen to anything new for more than 5 or 6 seconds. So obviously I’ve been on a nostalgia trip for a bit. Chris Cornell’s cover of Patience is brilliant. I know you’ll like it too. It’s cool if you don’t too. I can’t force you to like the stuff I do. Just know I’ll think less of you if you don’t — I won’t say it to your face, or make you feel like it in person, but I will think less of you.

Okay fine, that was mean. Everyone has their own taste in music and that’s totally alright. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Absolutely. Nothing at all. You’re all my jalebi babies… just don’t play that shit in my house.

All of that also hampers my attempts to make new friends — something I know I desperately need to do, especially considering how I dealt with the lockdown this year (yes, I’m aware of the privilege and entitlement that comes with saying that, considering the shitstorm that was the second wave of COVID in India). Anyone else drive to the airport to pick up a box of donuts and coffee once a week because they had no one to hangout with?

I guess the point I’m trying to make is this: I want you to buy me a beer and then stay the hell away from me.

Song recommendation of the week:

But also, mainly

It’s Sunday! Blog day! The first of many to come! Or is it the second? Because technically that one last week was the first one, no? No? Okay, no let’s count this one as the first real blog. So, here goes — BLOG 1: THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RINGING IN THE EARS

It’s been kind of a tiring week even though I barely did anything. I did get back to work after a two week break (during which my cousin got married [CONGRATULATIONS KEVIN AND ROSHNI!!!] and I went for a proper karaoke night for the first time in nearly two years) and had a pretty long and tiring, but fun Friday night that ended at 6 a.m. on Saturday. 

I’m currently in Hyderabad, making use of a remote working option that expires this year. Yup, COVID’s officially not the top priority anymore peeps! But I’ll be honest, I’m kind of looking forward to going back to the office mainly because even though I feel I’m kind of a loner, I do enjoy company and having people around in the background like white noise while I work. Plus, I’d finally get to drive to work (yup, I enjoy driving in not-so-busy city traffic) and also not have to wake up early every day and direct cab drivers and then commute an hour before I actually need to. 

I’d also get to make use of clothes other than my now extremely worn out house tees and shorts that have literally been worn to death. Any more wear and they’d have more holes than the mesh nets on my windows. Time to dust off those formals shirts and pants and shoes! Shirts are tucked inside the pants, right? Do we need to wear chaddis inside pants? Say that again — “socks”? What in the world are those?

But also, mainly, I’d get away from the deafening silence of working at home alone through the night with no one to take a break and walk around with to get some air or a coffee or bitch about the idiots at work. Silence that’s made my tinnitus — that I’ve been conveniently ignoring and not seeing a doctor about for more than a year now — grow louder with each passing month. Yeah, yeah I’m going to get it checked out soon. In the coming days, maybe. Weeks, probably. Months, for sure. Years, definitely. 

Speaking of hearing annoying things in your ears all the time, my friend Priyanka bought a new car last month! I got to drive her Jeep Compass last Sunday evening. It was okay. OKAY FINE IT WAS BRILLIANT AND MADE ME MISS EVERYTHING I LOVED ABOUT KIM CARDASHIAN. Don’t worry, I still love you, Taylor VXi Swift.

Priyanka also hosted a “dinner” at her place on Friday night. It was supposed to be drinks and poker, that turned into drinks, no poker, impromptu karaoke and dinner-at-4-a.m. But man, her cooking is brilliant. 

I also got to meet a couple of colleagues I’d worked with at Deccan Chronicle — Neha Jha, Tollywood promoter extraordinaire and Latika Mehta, future master podcaster and Bollywood aficionado. Latika said I hadn’t changed a bit in six years. I’m outraged — clearly I’ve added at least 3 inches to my waistline since then. Also good luck to Neha and the team at Pushpa and Mr. Allu Arjun and family and his legion of followers who will rip me apart if I say anything other than nice things about him. Good luck, sir. 

I took my mum and dad out to dinner this weekend. United Kitchens of India at Karkhana isn’t bad at all. Service is a bit spotty but that’s mainly because the place was crowded. Food’s goooooood though. Go check it out. Tell them I recommended it to you. Use my discount code THISISAFAKEDISCOUNTCODESUCKER when you ask for the bill.

And that’s all the words I can manage to string together today. I should probably start doing this over a few days instead of in one or two sittings, so I can get more done. I shall get better. I promise. Don’t go away. Please come back! 

Song recommendation of week: 

This could just be a blog

I’m just typing all this here in the hope that it will inspire me to begin writing for myself again. Personal writing, whether it’s random words, poetry (I don’t really want to do that anymore though) or even, maybe, possibly… a manifesto? I guess this is the written word’s equivalent of what artists do when they doodle. Do artists doodle? Or is that just reserved for cartoonists? Are cartoonists artists? Am I an artist? Isn’t writing an art form? Literature is considered an art form, yes. So I guess I can call myself an artist. Once, that is, I actually start writing again. Which should be soon. Hopefully. 

I mean I bought a whole new laptop for it, so I’d say I owe it to myself to start writing again. It does help to let emotions and thoughts and feelings out, I’m told, instead of bottling them up. As I’ve been doing for the past… two years now? The last time I posted something on here was in January, 2019. Before the pandemic. Before things started turning to shit. Or was it after? Who even knows now. So much has happened in the last two years. But also, so little. 

This could just be a blog. I have a friend who started vlogging last year, and she’s getting really good at it. I don’t think I’d ever be comfortable enough in front of the camera to do that. So maybe I should just do this — blog. Old school. Write a column. Isn’t that was people used to do a few years ago when “digital content” was all about being funny/sarcastic in a weekly online column, instead of dancing for 10 seconds? Not judging anyone at all, I’m just saying I think I’m going to stick to this for now. Maybe throw in a few photographs now and then. 

Is my life really that interesting? Probably not. I live in Bangalore now. I have a job that I love. A handful of friends I enjoy hanging out with once in a while. My weekends recently have mostly involved movie marathons and drinking and eating some good food at home. I’d honestly rather go out, but getting a group of people who enjoy hanging out with each other without secretly bitching about each other can be pretty hard to put together. 

Oh well, here’s to doing things better. Meeting people. Finally living my life. And yes, blogging. 

(FINE I’M NOT AN ARTIST)

Cheers ra, mama