Gluppy Skin

Do you feel it when all of your being so desperately wants to create, and you know its the desperation thats holding you back. So you wait is out, you let your flame die out, you come to terms with being irrelevant, only because you couldn’t bear the thought of creating something you can’t truly feel.

You gather the toxicity, you let the dust settle, you swallow the grit, and nurture all of it inside you.  Till the day you give birth to the darkness, which in turn will deliver you to light.

That is the art you truly want to make, and that is the art that’s true.

I recently read yet another enraging post by a woman whose foreigner friend was grabbed at the elbow by some entitled mister on the streets of #delhi. Upon confrontation he apparently spat out some malarkey to the affect of just wanting to 'compliment' her.  The sad part isn't even the age-old tale of objectification and outright negligence of this woman being an actual person who may prefer to not be groped by strangers on the street. It was that she brushed it aside, justifying the action by saying 'it happens alot here, so i don't bother about it'. All that made me feel was ashamed. On behalf of that man, on behalf of our sisters, aunts mothers and ourselves. We've all done it- been okay with something, knowing that saying anything otherwise would lead us nowhere. 

For as long as I can remember, birds in close proximity, have really seemed to bother me. I’ve never been able to understand why. As someone who seems to have decent will-power and self assurance, I’ve always thought   “It’s, well, irrational, and that’s the one thing you’re not, right? Right...? ”

There’s got to be a reason I have this. A lesson, a learning. 

But the truth is. There’s nothing. There’s been no real epiphany, no great victory, no coming to terms with anything-- except for the fact that maybe I’m crazy? No amounts of deep breathing or friends who love bird watching (?) have been able to change the fact that I cannot bear the thought of being in enclosed spaces with the aviary species. But the thing about irrational fears is that you’re probably the only one it really gets to. So I guess after a point you just accept it. I’ve become ok just being ok with this being something that is. So maybe not about myself, but here’s what I learnt about all of us - The fact is, you’re in a life-long relationship with yourself.   And it’s ok not to know things about yourself, not understand why the most inane things can make you tick. It’s the quirks that make any relationship. So what if the ‘quirk’ is that your eyes may be gouged out by tiny beaks and tiny bird teeth? It’s what’ll keep you on your toes, on the boring days, on the days you curse your friends for having other friends And maybe one day, you will let yourself in on the secret that you’re not really afraid of birds, and you actually think they’re quite neat!  That day you may want to beat yourself a little, but you’ll also smile at your impeccable skills of diversion, you sneaky ninja, you. (here’s hoping future me is listening.)

Journal Entry. 10th October, 2016 Visual : chronicling vintage artwork, two-dimensional aves are good for the ornithophobia?

Here’s a funny story, I recently indulged myself in a pedicure at a fancy place near my new home. (I’m a sucker for acupressure massages, 50 points to the parlour for seating me in a massage chair throughout.)  There I was, ready and waiting for 40 minutes of tickles interspersed with relaxation. I lifted my dress to immerse my feet in the toasty water, when I caught the pedicure artist of my neighbour staring at my legs. He quickly looked away, but kept stealing glances. At this point I began staring back at him to get him off by back, when I realised that he wasn't being lustful but looked almost horrified.

Horrified at the unladylike-hair-growth on my legs, which looked like it hadn’t been tended to in what may have seemed like ages to the poor fellow. He just didn't get it, why would I have hair on my legs? I don't blame him really, but it's so funny how we're all conditioned to think only one type of thing is beautiful & acceptable. So I had hair on my legs, the dude next to me did too! (And we were both there for the same treatment, literally.)

Journal Entry. October, 2016 Artwork : October 3rd, 2016, um, can you not?

So exactly a month ago I quit my job, and have been serving my notice period thus far, leaving me with exactly a week till I can do wtf I want. A few days ago, my boss and I were at a client's office, post our weekly meeting, waiting for our respective cabs to arrive. My boss, lets call him Semen, decides to use this setting as an opportunity to thank me for finding the best possible replacement for myself. I smiled, and said 'ye, he's great, and of course, i would never leave a place i cared about high and dry'.

I expected the conversation to end here. It didn't. Semen went on to elucidate on how thrilled he was to work with my friend, how thrilled he was 'to work with a man'. 'It's so much easier for me to teach a boy, I’m sure he'll learn the ropes in just a few days' he said. 'Ive always noticed you need to be so much more gentle training a girl, guys toh you can be brazen, thrash them once and they'll become even better than you, it's not in my nature to be harsh with girls you see.' The cabs arrive, and there I am, dumbfounded. Wondering whether he realises what he's just done.

The entire year and more Ive spent at this place, regardless of my vagina/lack of a dick, was trivialised, insulted, jabbed at. I was their first employee, the only one to stick around longer than a few months, the only one who travelled 55km daily to make it, the only one who lifted a finger to find the cream of the cake as a replacement. But all these things, they didnt count in that moment, all that mattered was that I had a gaping hole where I should have had a big fat cock. That would have made me more adept, it would have made me 'easier to train', it would have excited my teammates to be working with me, it may have even elicited a faint sense of sadness on my exit from the company. One thing it wouldve definitely gotten me would've been double the amount of zeros at the end of my paycheck. And I'd have been cool with just that. *Disclaimer -  the conversation has been paraphrased, considering I wasn’t recording this. Hence no direct quotations have been used. All the statements that have been mentioned took place over the course of two such conversations to similar effect, I merged the two for my journal entry since I felt describing the event was more crucial than the surroundings.  It's mostly a rant, not to shame anyone or call anyone out, but merely to educate and speak up about something I thought was horribly wrong. Something that you usually brush aside as 'oh but he didn't know better', 'he's only being nice' , 'he probably didn't mean it like that', 'you're overreacting' 'you've misunderstood' so on..I have no doubt that I've already thought of every excuse there is, heck, maybe one of them is true, but unless you say what's on your mind and speak up against what you think is wrong, people will keep walking all over you. Journal Entry. September, 2016 Artwork : September 22nd, 2016, big fat cock

It’s the fourth day of a brand new year. Funny how we can hardly wait to rip open packaging to new presents but are filled with nostalgia and teensy bits of terror at the idea of unveiling a new year.

And still, even while its the fourth day of a shiny new year we find ourselves musing over the year that was. Or at least that's where I find myself right now.

Where did that year go? I had just about managed to unravel last years’ wrapping, now I'm to struggle with an entirely different present.

By the looks of it, and in retrospect (wow, it’s already classified as hindsight) 2015 seems to have been quite a wholesome year. Unfortunately that feeling only arises in retrospect, during most of the year I found myself battling with actually feeling (for lack of a better word) any of the moments that should have inspired sonnets, poems and maybe even love songs.

The last year, summarised, was success and small victories, it was love and it was closure, it was fear and failures but most of all it was a whole lot of numbness. Cross analysing 2015, as it turns out, was a whole lot of lying to myself.

Having lived almost 23 years, and knowing a fair share of people, I’ve come to know and accept that most of us disappoint ourselves from time to time. However, the disappointment often springs from having sky high expectations and being harsh critics of ourselves, - Ive concluded that the past year I bore and was neither of the two.

The first half of 2015 I was lost and confused (I've definitely brought this with me to 2016) but there seemed to be some semblance of drive and a goal, even if it was something circumstances had thrust upon me. I'm grateful for it, Im grateful to be able to be confused, be disappointed in myself, to have even a  semblance of anything, most of all I’m grateful to be able to move forward. Even though today I can't even, here's hoping for more of the good stuff for everyone. More presents, and more ferocious unwrapping. 

Journal Entry. January 4th, 2016 Artwork : April, 2016, untitled & unabashed.

There I was, sitting at the corner table, out on the porch at Pemas, when I was told - "Um, well, right off the bat, you're not someone who you think is really cool or really weird. You're more of a 'well rounded' person" Now, I'm sure what it was meant as was not what i made out of it. I even take half the blame for having probed a little too much. But here's what i heard- "Um, well, right off the bat you're pretty much an average personality and posses no exciting eccentricity whatsoever." It was a terrible thing to me, being average. But I guess reality when its thrust on you, stings only because somewhere deep down you feared it was the truth all along.

Journal Entry. October 11th, 2015

Artwork : September 2015, hey, frazzled lover

Has every thing been going hunky dory, you’re living life and aren’t faced with insurmountable unhappiness at all given moments? Then one day you wake up, feeling, er not-quite-right. Envy hasn’t been on my repertoire previously, and I contest that it is even now. But, on that odd not-quite-right day, it’s strange how everything I’ve worked towards is everything I don’t want anymore.I suddenly want what 'they' have. The ones who are doing something I had always thought l'd be doing, the ones out exploring foreign lands, the ones who quit their jobs to 'figure it out', and those few who never seem to have days like these. 

Journal Entry. October 13th, 2015

Artwork : September 2015, Mr. Balloon-Man.