Co-ordination

Clumsy. Klutz. Uncoordinated. That's me.

Sometimes I have trouble coordinating my left and right feet to go the same way. When I was younger, I frequently tripped over my own feet, without any apparent reason. I have a number of scars on my legs (and some also on my arms) to prove that.

At others, I have trouble coordinating my eyes and hands. My eyes are probably seeing that the object is coming towards me from my right, while my arms, with a mind completely of their own, make a grab either diametrically to the left, or on better occasions a little towards the center. No wonder I didn't make it any organized sports teams.

But I can live with that.

What really bothers me is that at times I cannot seem to coordinate my thoughts and my speech. I know what you're thinking. What a retard, right? Well let me explain briefly that it is not so. I have no problems getting my thoughts down on paper. But you ask me a question and I fumble. It's not that I don't know what to say. Usually I know exactly what I want to say. But my tongue too seems to have a separate brain from my thoughts-brain. And they just don't like each other. Often I get this feeling that even while I'm saying something, out loud that is, my brain has already thought twenty steps ahead, and I lose track of what I am currently saying. Which is definitely weird, I admit.

Talking too needs practice, like catching a ball and dancing to steps. I'm afraid I've never had much of that. Most of my conversations have been ones with myself. I know people who do not like IMs and texting. They would rather have a face to face encounter. I, on the other hand, feel comfortable with written words. Probably that's why I'm also a fast reader.

Not talking often enough might have made me an uncoordinated speaker, but that is also the reason I can write, the little whatever I can.

Best Friend

Whenever I come across posts and comments like "A good friend will ask you to share your lunch, a best friend will have eaten it already", I do wonder if that's what a best friend is all about.

We've all had "best friends" back in school. We'd always stick together, eat lunch together, walk home together, spend hours on the phone talking and giggling nonsensically. All those slumber parties, all those little notes passed in class. Our birthday parties would be incomplete without the best friend. We'd wait till they arrived before cutting the cake and blowing out the candles. They'd understand us like no one else.

As we get older, it starts to change. It would become about secrets. Trust. They'd be the first to know about our crushes. We'd spend hours talking about how cute the crush was and why they didn't like us back. Later when we'd get into relationships, all the boyfriend troubles would be whined about to the best friend. That's how it's always been.

It's sort of sad that I cannot remember having someone like that until a long time. I never left completely understood by another individual. No one seemed to share my interests. Also, I never really felt the need for a so-called best friend.

Yet, I've found some truly valuable friends in the most surprising ways. They have changed the entire definition of "best friends" for me. Now I know it's not about being similar, or even sharing similar interest. It's more about how much you can count on the other person. It's about how much you can be at peace with them. It's about how silences are no longer awkward. How you cannot stay mad at them even if they are annoying your guts out. They've taught me that girls and boys can be friends, and stay at that. They've taught me that age and sex don't matter.

I call them my precious friends.

P.S. This also includes my mother. And also my boyfriend.

Amateur

If I was asked to list things I'm good at, I'd be lost. It's easier to list things I can do. I can certainly do a lot of things, but I don't know if I'm good at any of those.

I write.
I sing.
I paint.
I'm into art and craft.
I can dance if I want to.
I collect stamps.
I read.

But I wouldn't call myself an expert in any of these fields. Maybe I have low self esteem, but it's true. At best, I am an amateur.

I like it though. I like thinking of myself as an amateur rather than an expert, because it keeps my options of improving and learning new things open. I like not being satiated with what I am. This way I can pardon myself more easily, can start again without embarrassment or shame. It wouldn't worry me much if I sucked at something, because I would always know that I would be starting as a novice.

I like being amateur at this.

Creative Challenge

My, my! What creative brains all around me!

My long time friend and fellow blogger Pigeonheadophobia has come up with a blogging challenge all on her own - the A-Z challenge. And like countless other times, she's inspired me to take this up and write. Here are the rules:-

1. You have to write everyday for 26 days2. On the first day your post should start from the letter a, the second day it should start with b and so on; till you reach z.3. You can pass on this challenge to anyone you want.

The rules are pretty simple, but the challenge is not. Then again, if it was, it wouldn't be a challenge, would it? I'm starting tomorrow, with Day A. And I'm nervously excited! It's a good feeling to have though.

Pigeonhedophobia is one of the sleekest, perkiest and in a word, smartest blogs I've ever read. Sharing so that others can feel the pleasure too. Thank you!

The Blackbird

Okay, so it was just a crow. But it is worth writing about.

Today I saw a crow outside my hostel room window. And this is significant because there are NO birds in the campus. With the number of trees here, the lack of aviary life is unpleasantly surprising.

I was very excited to see my campus full of large trees. I was sure there would be like a zillion type of birds here. It's appalling that I've seem no, I repeat, NO birds other than some incessantly cooing pigeons. I think it is the lack of birds that makes the campus so eerily quiet once the dusk sets in.

However, there are a lot of butterflies. Apart from the fact that they don't sing, or make any kind of noise at all, their sheer variety almost makes up for the scarcity of the twittering, chirping and yes, sometimes cawing things.

There are two Flame trees right outside my window and if I get up early in the morning, I can be witness to this spectacular, multicoloured swarm of butterflies among the leaves. There are all possible colours imaginable, and many that aren't imaginable. Blue, red, pink, yellow, mauve, bottle green, vermilion and god knows what.

It sure is a pretty sight. But I still miss the birds.

Two Thousand and Five Hundred Miles Away From Home

I’ve spent over a month in the new city, in the new campus, in the new university and things could not have been more different. This might be a good time to confess that I’ve never been away from home for this long before.

Overwhelmed. That is the first feeling I could sift out of an entirely disarrayed mind. How was to fend for myself here?

Then came the familiar feeling of wanting to withdraw into my turtle shell and escape. But turtles are also known for their grit, so I stayed on.

Problems loomed large before me and I felt like an ant before a sand dune. Dear Lord! They assigned me a room on the fifth floor? And there’s no lift? How was I to survive climbing up and down this real-life sand dune for umpteen numbers of times every day for the rest of the semester? Why weren’t there any water dispensers on my floor? Do I really have to go all the way down to second floor to get drinking water? Oh why does my cupboard not close precisely?

For a few days i didn’t know what to eat and where to get it. The food was so alien to my taste buds that a just lived off bread and cheese for a few days. Then there was the indigestion. How my alimentary tract burned!

And I haven’t even started on the language yet. It is astonishing how narrowly regional we are. The only word I understand in Telegu is ‘Amma’. It was scary to think that I will not be able to communicate my needs, and my Hindi abysmal.

I have to do my own laundry, iron my clothes myself, and make breakfast on my own. Apart from that, I have to do the shopping, fixing, cleaning by myself as well. Did I mention the lessons and assignments and deadlines? I guess you would have got the drift by now.

But I’m not going to crib about this. I’m going to put all of it in a box and seal it up with tape, because I’ve begun learning a precious few things that home couldn’t teach me all this while.

Que sera sera.

My Secret Recipe For Grilled Cheese-Salami-Egg Sandwich

You need:
1) Bread
2) Cheese slices
3) Salami
4) Boiled eggs
5) Sandwich-maker/Grille
6) Oregano

You have to:
1) Spread the half of a cheese slice and a half of a salami on the bread.
2) Slice and add boiled eggs on the spread.
3) Cover the spread with another bread.
4) Grill it.
5) Sprinkle oregano for seasoning.

And now for the secret ingredient:
It tastes best on a bad day. Get your closest buddies and find a deserted roof top, preferably dimly lit. You may want to be ravenously churning with hunger, and it would be best if the time is odd, like near midnight or beyond. Finally raise a toast with your toast to the awesomeness life can present you right when things go majorly disarrayed.

Enjoy.

Five years down  the line, you will remember this and smile, instead of wincing at the pain you went through to make the sandwiches: hunger, eateries closing down, running up and down five floors scrambling to assemble the last tit-bits, mosquitoes whizzing above you head like an ominous rain cloud...