BrainDrain

I’m thinking of dyeing my hair purple. No, not outlandishly bright purple; more like a deep violet or something. I dunno…I’ve always wanted to do that. I’ve also been thinking about cutting my hair shorter…like a bob that curls under but with layers. I apologize to all the guys reading my blog. This is probably so not what you feel like reading about but it’s a real dilemma. My only concern with getting a purple bob haircut is that invariably I might be called for a job interview or have to go to a conference last minute. And then what? But then again, it might not look that outlandish. Blah…I won’t know until I try it.

Yea, so I was waiting for a friend. In order to get a closer look as to when they would be arriving, I went to the row of chairs by the wall to sit down. I guess I was distracted or something because I sat down but there was no chair under me. Long story short: I fell flat on my a$$ pretty hard.

As if that in itself wasn’t bad enough, there were people all around. One lady actually asked if I was okay but other people just snickered. One man, to make light of the situation, said something like, "yea, those chairs have been known to move," which was funny but it was so embarrassing ’cause he was all loud about it.  I couldn’t look people in the face after that. I mean, it was pretty funny and I guess I would have laughed too if it had been someone else.

Yea, so the day after that episode, my butt felt sore and, for a brief moment, I forgot why. It was like I had blocked out the trauma of my butt-injury. I had to replay the whole day and then I was like, "Oh yea, I fell on my a$$ yesterday." I told people about it and they had a good laugh too. My mom got all freaked out because she thought I needed to get X-rayed. Like I had fractured my hip or something! It’s not like I’m that old lady in that commercial, "Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up."

Anyway, so it’s kinda sore when I sit on it and I had to look in the mirror and see the yellow-blue bruises. Moral of the story, kiddies? Next time, I will look before I sit. You would think that I would have learned that lesson when I was three or something. Obviously, some people learn the hard way….and I mean, hard! Ouch, my poor a$$.

Wow….there’s like a desi version of friendster called "orkut" and by getting on there, I got in touch with all my friends from Bangalore in one day! And one of my bestest friends is actually now just a few miles away in Dallas. I nearly fainted when she told me that.  I also got in touch with two people I haven’t talked to in years and one of them is coming to Texas soon for  visit. Life is so surprising and it is all a bit overwhelmingly pleasant all of a sudden.

Why is the past resurfacing? What does this mean? What am I supposed to learn from all this?

Just go with the flow already, Lisa! But, I do believe, things happen for a reason.

Yea, it’s not. I was wrong. My bad.

Is this it? It must be.

I seem to write more when I’m depressed or unhappy with the current state of things. But there are traumatizing times that I don’t write. I guess it is possible that this could just be an outlet for emotions I can actually deal with or actually verbalize to some extent.

"I’m not mad. Just in a funk of some sort. No rational explanation or just cause…just one of those free-floating anxiety trips." -in an apologetic e-mail to a friend

So I buried myself in work today to escape thinking about it. I even volunteered to do work not my own. It was like an escape. Its sad when work is any escape. Just how much of a life don’t I have?! Anyway, it was crazy-busy as it usually is so close to the start of the semester.

One guy e-mailed me 5 times and then he called me on the phone with the same question. I’m, like, "dude, the answer hasn’t changed since the last five times you have asked me." Anyway, he didn’t think I was the same person who responded to his e-mails. And, for the sake of not embarrassing him by confronting him about it, I went along with it. Why such people deserve such consideration should definitely be questioned. Oh well. If I was in a bitchier mood I probably would have confronted him, "SIR, for the sixth time: THAT SCORE IS TOO LOW FOR ADMISSION." Anyway, such is the life of a school administration peon.

So I don’t know why but all that craziness is rather comforting. Sort of like, well, this work craziness is outside of me so it’s not really me that is the problem. Now the internal craziness, emotional turmoil, free-floating anxiety, whatever you want to call it, that is the source of some serious scariness. What does it mean when everything makes you cry? For no reason? Suddenly you drop a file and "the world drops dead", as Sylvia Plath would say. I feel my eyes tearing up in some sort of "woe-is-me" angst. And then I’m, like: IT WAS JUST A FILE.

It may be hard for other people to understand. I don’t get it either. Maybe my hormones are all out of wack…Maybe I’m spritually in flux…Maybe my relationships with people leave a lot to be desired…Maybe I feel I have no voice and need to bottle stuff up…..Maybe all of the above. Like I said, no specific reason. It makes no sense. I try not to analyse it. I try to escape it.

"Hence the quiet, non-communicative withdrawal to the security of things-to-do." -in an apologetic e-mail to a friend

Today, I went home during lunch and took a nap. It was great! I didn’t want to come back to work. I am sleep-deprived, I think. Either that or stressed out beyond belief.

You ever wonder why even when you have all the things that you could possibly want, it still feels like its not enough. I mean, on the surface, I look like I’m "in a good place" and yet, I don’t feel that way. I guess that is what happens when you place emphasis on worldy achievements and accoutrements. I’m left wondering if I have touched any lives or changed anything at all for the better. Because, in the end, you can’t take jobs or promotions with you, nor can you take your degrees or your trophies, or even your loved ones. The only thing you can take with you is your soul and the knowledge of your experiences.

Gawd. This is all a wee bit heavy for a Friday morning, ain’t it?

Geez. From my last blog, I realize that I do have a tendency to be slightly melodramatic but what’s life without a little drama? Am I right? Anyway, yea, so I didn’t die from that illness. I did have a fever and for a few days I sounded like Barry White. "Can’t get enough of your love, babe…"

Anyway, other than that, life is fantabulous (insert hint of sarcasm here). I’m on a mission to leave Houston. Don’t get me wrong, no matter how much I hate it/love it, it is home. BUT I need to leave again. Don’t ask me why because I can’t really explain it. It’s kinda like I’m in a mental rut. Like the whole "been there, done that." So where am I off too? I have an inkling but the last thing you want to do is verbalize your plan just in case it doesn’t work out.