Hitting that Dreaded Milestone

I was going through some of my old blog posts the other day. Came across one where I was fretting over becoming old... at twenty-four. Ugh. Twenty-four?? I thought 24 was old? Wtf was wrong with me? 

I didn't do a big post when I turned 30, as I was busy pushing a human out of my body and then letting it rule over my life. I did, however, watch 13 Going on 30 and put up a pic of Joey going "Why, God, why?" on his 30th birthday, to commemorate the occasion. 

So when I hit the next big milestone, a few months ago, I figured I should write something about it. I started to write but then hesitated. My age.. that's something I guarded with my life. My real age is something only my tier 1 friends are privy to. Tier 2 friends get to know my fake age. The rest of them can just keep guessing. 

So I'm still kinda panicking at the thought of putting it out there.. for the whole world to see (or for the 30-odd folks who read my blog to see). I can't quite make myself say it out loud to other people. I do say it to myself a lot. And to Google. When I Google the 6000 new symptoms I seem to have developed all of a sudden.

"Do you feel different?" A tier-1 friend asked me. Of course I do. It isn't like when you turn 30 and all the feels that you feel is pretty much an existential crisis or just your mind playing tricks on you. This time, it was not at all subtle. I swear, I woke up on my birthday morning feeling like someone put all of my bones through an idiyappam-making machine while I was asleep. 

And the very same month, all of a sudden, I realized I've started to lose my vision too. I've been short-sighted for a really long time now, and all of a sudden, my eyes decided to mess with my long-sightedness as well. I now have to take off my glasses to read stuff, just like both my sisters. And every time I put my glasses back on, I involuntarily make that old lady face. You know the one - mouth open, eyes squinty. I know I'm doing it, and I know how I look doing it. But I can't help it!

After years of stuffing my face with cream biscuits and greasy fries, I'm suddenly worrying about my BP and cholesterol and sugar.. ok maybe I’m overdoing it. Maybe after years of fighting my age, trying to look and act younger, this is me just slamming the accelerator and going all in and embracing old age. 

I did have a mini mid-life crisis, though and went and coloured my hair brown and cut bangs for my birthday, something I’d been wanting to do since forever. I imagined myself with bangs and coloured hair at 50 and figured might as well do it now. I also jumped on the bed, I rode a cycle, splashed around a pool, danced wildly all night (or for as long as I could stay up) and ate an unholy amount of cake and ice cream.. Okay, that might explain the pulpified bones feeling that I woke up with. 

A month later, I kneeled to take a photo of D and realized I couldn’t seem to get up because I now have old-lady knees! The kind that makes sounds! How… how does your body just know that your happy birthday is over? It’s like it had all these tiny men with hammers and drills just standing around, waiting for the clock to strike 12. And the second it does, they’re like, “Alright boys, let’s get to work,” and start smashing up some bone, removing a few screws, loosening the clips holding everything together…

I dunno, maybe it’s in my head. I saw this one reel the other day where a guy gets to meet his child self, and he’s worried the child self won’t like his current self. But then the child self asks him lots of questions like — do you drive, do you have a job, do you live in your own house, do you own a TV — and the adult answers "yes" to everything, he ends up feeling better knowing he’s made his child self proud with all his achievements. 

I imagined my child self asking me all those same questions. And my answer to atleast 4 out of 5 questions was "No" and I ended up making myself feel even worse. My child self might be a little bit sympathetic, but my teenage self will be disgusted. I’m hoping she’ll at least like my coloured hair.

I tried to make a list of stuff I did accomplish in all these years to sort of validate myself. I don’t wanna put that here — that is for me. And yes, that did make me feel better.. and yes, there are sooo many more things left to add on to that list.. but hey, I cut bangs as a middle-aged woman.. so there is hope.

But one day, my perspective on this whole thing changed suddenly. I was looking through old photo albums and came across pictures of my parents when they were around my age.. and the only thing I could think was "Holy shit, they look so young!" So healthy. So less.. tired. Thinking back, they were pretty much in the prime of their lives back then.  They used to do everything so...fast. My mom used to run and play with us sometimes; she even broke her leg jumping rope. My dad used to walk to his clinic every day. He broke his arm ice-skating! They were both breaking stuff, doing mad young-people stuff. And all of their hair was all black.. they looked amazing and were so full of life. 

And that just sort of flips your perspective. Yes, it makes you worry about how much your parents have aged now. But it also makes you realize that this… where I am right now… was literally just the beginning for them. I was three years old when my dad was my current age. My dad, with his thick black hair, wayyy before the pot belly appeared, who could lift me way over his head, who was full of that roaring energy, that larger-than-life personality.

When D looks back and thinks of me at this age, I hope she remembers how young and fast and healthy I was too… this is the version of me she’s probably going to imprint on her brain... of her mom during her growing years. And I can’t let that memory be countless clips of me complaining about my back or gasping for breath after one dance.

So ya, I’ve been trying.. to turn healthier. Sometimes I feel like how much can you mould clay that has been left out for so long. But then I figured I haven’t completely dried out in the sun.. I think I still have some give.. so let’s see.

On another note, I read that this is the age that women suddenly just let go of things and stop caring about what people think.. and hoo boy, that is something I’m sooo waiting for. 

I don’t think that has fully kicked in yet, though. On some days, I do feel like I’ve started to let go of things I had been stubbornly holding close for so damn long. Some days I do let go, stop caring, only to freak out hours later wondering "why did I say that or do that." Maybe I'm in the transitioning stage. Maybe by the end of the year I’ll be fully and completely carefree... ha, and I thought I didn’t have anything more to look forward to.

Also just realized that this year, my blog turned 20.. damn. That’s a fully grown adult blog. People who read this might not even have been born on that fateful day in 2006 when I sat down at my big chunky computer during my semester hols to write that first completely nonsensical blog post. Side note: the other day I went back to some of my old posts and increased the font size cos I swear I can’t see shit anymore!

I don’t expect anyone to have followed my writing for 20 years or anything, but to anyone who’s stuck around for as long as you have — thank you. I’m writing more for myself than for anyone else these days, but it’s still nice to know y’all are around. All 30 of you. Bots and everything. 

I'll see you at the next milestone in another 10 years. 

So Yesterday

A couple of days ago "What I miss the most" was trending on Twitter. And I went on tweeting-rage that day. Here are a few things that I Miss the Most.

VHS Tapes - The excitement while going to the video rental store. The search for the perfect Thrusday evening movie(I grew up in the Middle East, where the weekend used to be on Friday). The squeal of happiness when you find that the one that you've been waiting for is in today. The restlessness as you pop it into the player and listen to the whir as it rewinds. Winding the tape with a pencil when the player gets stuck. Sticking the magnetic tape with cellotape when it breaks due to overuse (my Alladin tape)

Getting my hair cut in the barber shop - They do a neat job and they do not bug you with unwanted advice. They do not tell you how a clean-up could solve all your problems in life. They do not tell you obvious things about yourself ("hey, you're graying. hey, you have pimples, hey, you have crap hair") And they do that cool thing with an electric razor on the back of your head. Awesome it is.

Dungarees -  I wore dungarees to school on my 14th birthday. I looked like a complete idiot. But dungarees were undeniably cool during those days. Not to mention comfortable.

Highlighter pens - I used this pen a lot, mostly to show people who bothered to look through my books that I've read all this. Though I really wouldn't have. I like how it would brighten up the pages of my boring Chemistry or Physics book.

My bunk bed - I bagged the top bunk before my sister could. I broke the bed in a couple months and had to share bottom bunk with sister. :(

White Ink bubbles - My desk at school used to be filled with white ink bubbles. If you haven't tried making white ink bubbles, you should. There is something very soothing about it.  Not sure if it had anything to do with its smells.

Bicycles - I don't understand why people don't ride cycles too much after they've grown up. I mean you don't need a license to drive it. And its way better exercise than sitting on a scooty or a bike. And how can you ever feel sad when you're riding a cycle?

The way Barbie smells - Go to a shop. Pick up a Barbie. Smell her. She smells heavenly. Try not to get thrown out of the shop in case people think you're a pervert.

The Titanic Craze - All the boys were sporting the Jack Dawson hairstyle. The girls all had fake 10 Dhs version of the Blue Diamond. And everyone around the corner was going "I'm the king of the world" and doing the classic Titanic pose. I had a Titanic phonebook, a Titanic t-shirt, a Titanic notebook and a box of clipping of anything related to Leonardo DiCaprio. It was nice to be manically obsessed with something.

Enid Bylton books - This I miss the most. I had this huuuuuge collection of Enid Bylton books which I used to read over and over again. Fairy tales, mysteries, school stories...had them all. I remember going to book fairs and coming home with tonnes of books. And just gobbling up the words all night long. I'd finish reading all the books by morning. How I longed to grow up and write books just like she did. My dad sold all my books when I was away at college. So now I don't have even a single book to mark my childhood. Someday I hope to buy them all again. If not for my child, then for myself. Those books, they were the most magical things of my childhood days.


Photo albums - No, not the ones on Facebook or Picasa. The real actual ones. The ones that you pile around when your friends come to visit. And the ones from which some guy who has a crush on you flicks a pic or two when you're not looking. The plastic ones that the studio gives with the developed photos and the negatives. They almost always have a real corny pic on the cover. I miss the feel of an album. I miss putting pics in frames and on pin boards.

Pen-pals - I never had one. But my sister did. And it was so cool. Getting an actual letter from a person living in a weird exotic country far away (okay, so maybe her pen-pal lived in the street next to ours or something, but still) I did have quite a few online-pals. Back before Facebook and Twitter was around to spoil all the mystery one could evoke about themselves. Long, long emails. I think my first email friend was a 14 year old Australian girl called Amber. Sure, "Amber" could also have been a 44 year old Indian uncle with a hairy chest and a vest with holes in it. Still, the not-knowing was splendid enough. At one phase of my life, I had more online friends than real-life friends. Now I have more imaginary friends than real-life friends.

Ink pens - The whole process of filling ink into the pen the night before school, after you're done "keeping your timetable" (that's arranging your books according to the periods the next day. Cos a bunch of jumbled out of order books would mean absolute chaos.) I couldn't figure out how to do it for the longest time. My sister had to show me. But that feeling of accomplishment when I finally nailed it! Awesome. I also miss ink cartridges, the ones with a tiny silver ball in it. Me and whole bunch of girls in school had a collection of those tiny silver balls. I also had a broken pencil points collection. Now I collect tweets. :-/

Old phones - The one with the holes that you have to stick a finger in and twirl. I used to love twirling all the numbers starting from 0 upto 9, for no apparent reason. I love the tiny ringy sound it makes. I miss the heaviness of the receiver. *sigh*

I can hear a lot of my younger readers going, wow, you are like super ultra old aren't you? (You know who you are, don't you) Yes, yes I'm old and ancient and whatever. But hey, I'm still here aren't I? So in a sense I get the best of both worlds. And also, while you write a post 15 years from now about the good ol' days of Facebook and Ipads, my great grandkids will come and tell you that you're old. So there. :P
I could go on and on and on. Don't get me wrong. I'm not like stuck in the past or anything. I'm cool with all the new things too. But just sometimes, I wish I could sneak back into the past, just for a day or two, and wallow in the simplicity of things and come back and update my Facebook status about it. :)

Tell me, what are the things that you miss the most?

Tree of Wisdom

So it was one of those ordinary days when I hadn't done anything out-of-the-ordinary. Just sitting on my behind, whiling away time, wondering if tomorrow will be any different. Since it was an exceptionally breezy day, I took a walk in the yard around my house. My niece joins me and soon we were this happy duo sitting on a stone, singing nursery rhymes and pointing out funny looking clouds. My mom and sister were trying to pick ripe guavas from the guava tree nearby.
Now since the day my hormones acted up, I knew that my being the tallest in the family is going to bring me absolutely no good in future. It didn't. It brought me a slouch. It brought me the embarrassment of being the only head sticking out above the others in family portraits. It gave me the rare privilege of being called up in case a "thotti"(a stick used to pick fruits and stuff from trees) was unavailable. So I had to put an end to my perfect evening setting and prance around the guava tree trying to reach the ones on the higher branches. Then, I don't know if it was my sister or my mom, whoever it is who has been secretly plotting a revenge scheme for the past few days (probably for finishing all the chocolate biscuits in the house. In my defense, that extra few inches of height always makes me a little extra bit hungry always), figured that if I could climb up a little, I'd have better reach to the riper guavas. Okay first of all, the last time I climbed a tree was some 20 million years ago. And secondly, I was wearing a skirt, which is definitely not tree-climbing friendly. And thirdly, the tree was infested with huge red ants. In any case, mom and sister persuaded me. And also because my niece was looking on in awe. So in an attempt to impress a 3 year old, I mount up the first branch.
It wasn't too bad. I soon had both my legs off the ground.
Good start.

The trick is to find the right branches to grab on to so as to pull yourself higher. A little shaky but progressing well. I put my feet up on a higher branch and slipped slight. That's when I yelled at the top of my voice "Oh my god, I'm going to die!"
My audience who up until then were shouting up directions burst into laughter. Not very encouraging when I'm engaging in a life-or-death activity here. Anyhow, I proceed higher and with an occasional ant in my mouth and branch poking my ear, I picked my first guava. I waited for an applause. I got none. 
Instead my mom hoisted up a stick and told me to pick one on the edgier branches. Seriously, did she think I was training to be a trapezes artist? More shakiness. I managed to pull down a few more guavas. After a couple of minutes of them shouting up simply un-do-able instructions and me shrieking that I was Definitely going to die now, we decided it was enough. Mom told me to slide down a branch like Tarzan does in that cartoon. I looked at it and well, it certainly did look pretty slide-y. Nope, no way, I'm not out of my mind. I'm not a 2D character. I tried to move slowly but steadily.

Suddenly I have no idea what happen. It was a blur of green and WHAM! I was on the ground floor sitting pillions on the lowest branch. My leg hurt like it was broken into a billion pieces. I bet it was. I let out a yelp. I was helped out of the branch. I am so never climbing bloody trees again in my life. I wanted to keep a straight face in front of my niece. I wasn't very successful. I howled and cried and made faces and cringed and soon lay in bed like an invalid. Okay so maybe the leg wasn't broken. Wasn't sprained even. I mean, I took such a great fall, it could have atleast sprained a little. All I had was a few measly scratches on my left ankle and a tiny cut on my foot. Blah.
But being the drama queen that I am, I moaned and groaned and cringed whenever someone even looked at it. The last time I got to put up such a moan-fest was in college when I hurt my finger with a razor while searching for a razor in my bag. It was a bit bloodier then. Cried buckets. My roommates came up with the biggest cloth band-aid possible. Called my folks at home and cried and exaggerated and all. And just like they did  today, they laughed at me then too. I live with a bunch of hyenas. And I remember holding it up and waving it at every random person who walked by me. A few were quite offended I think because it was my middle finger that I had hurt.

Anyhow, back to now. As I sat there looking at my injured foot, I kept thinking how on earth do little kids do it? Get hurt like this on a regular basis. Because it really did sting. How on earth did I  do it when I was younger? Maybe your pain hormones or whatever grows as your grow older. Oh well, it isn't every day you fall from a tree and hurt your foot. Not when your 26 atleast. So I hobbled all the way over to the computer balancing on my niece's shoulder (who was, by the way the only one who is treating me like the injured soul that I am) and blogged about it.  Even as I was falling the second thought (the first was of course that I'm going to die now.) was that this would make a great tweet/status message/blog post. That doesn't make me pathetic, does it? Well, a little I guess. My last words before death would probably be Somebody..please...take...a..picture...and...post it...on...FB..... :-/
My mom told me that this fall was probably God's way of telling me I'm too old for this shit now. He's probably sitting up there with His head in His hands going "How many times do we have to go through this?"
Um.. whoops?

I Like, I Don't

Its time for another pointless post bout things that I like and don’t like. In points. Because I'm to lazy to type out a whole post. :-) Yenjay!

I like it when a sunny day turns cloudy and you actually see it happen. As in you notice the dark shadow cast over all the sunniness, inch by inch. It makes me feel like I sneaked a peek of one of those things Nature does before we notice. Like plants growing or sweat popping outta skin. :-)

I don't like being talked to during a movie. Please refrain from talking to me just for those 3 hours.

I like to listen to that sudden short intake of breath that singers do in between lines of a song. It makes them seem human just like the rest of us.

I don't like it when a pill does not go down your throat but sorta swirls around in your mouth and you end up with the horrible taste of a melted tablet in your mouth.

I like the smell of new things. Like a new book or a new school bag or shoes or a new eraser. Oooh and new clothes. I would purchase the thing that they use to induce that smell. Oh and also the musty smell that’s there as soon as you turn on an air conditioner. Heavenly.

I don't like it when I find ants in my eyebrows.

I like it when I get to do the "What to expect when your expecting Puberty" talk to pre-pubescent girls. I’ve done this only once and I think I scared the wits out of that kid but it was still nice to be older and world-wise

I like laughing out loud at a corny joke on tv or bawling at a sad scene when there is noone around to judge you.

I like masala movies where the hero walks in slow motion and kills all the bad guys with a flick of a finger. I get goosebumps during these scenes no matter how bad the movie is.

I like the first 15 minutes spend with a toddler right after he wakes up from a nap. They’re all dazed and lazy and oh-so-not-hyper. Its a nice relax-y time. And I love their bleary eyes.

I don't like it when people call you up and talk and talk and talk without breathing, without even giving me a tiny little 2 second break so that I can say “right, ok, so I gotta go now.” If you've ever wondered how the line had  magically gone dead when you were explaining to me how exactly your great aunts ended their real estate disputes, well, I don’t know either. :-|

I like it when married couples who probably haven’t held hands since 1985, huddle close together under an umbrella when it rains. With an arm around waist or shoulder, heads together, it somehow reminds you that that they had been young and very much in love once upon a time.

I don't like it when people send you something on chat and then go “oops, wrong box”. I used to do that a lot when I wanted to inform someone of something without actually having to say it to him/her. Or I’d just be trying to make it seem like “I’m talking to a whole lotta other people and I wasn’t sitting here staring at your name on my chat list willing you to send me a message for the past one hour.” Hate that.

I like daisies. I like Meg Ryan because in You’ve Got Mail she says that she likes daisies. Or maybe it’s the other way around.

Kathleen Kelly: I love daisies. 
Joe Fox: You told me. 
Kathleen Kelly: They're so friendly. Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?

Trivia – Meg Ryan’s daughter’s name is Daisy.

I like the way Meg Ryan walks.

I like it when babies touch your face.

I don't like it when they later try to yank open your eye sockets and pull out your eyeballs.

I like all movies that I’ve watched from beginning to end. No matter how bad it is. There is always some portion of it that I can relate to even in the bizzarest way. Or I just feel that I’ve learned something that I would’ve never known until I watched that movie. Be it a funny dialogue, or a thought or a costume or an exotic name or an idea or a psychological disorder or just basic trivia.

I don't like it when you make someone read a book or watch a movie that you absolutely love, but they don’t pay attention to it like their lives depend on it. I mean they’re texting in between the most crucial scenes or skipping the most important chapters. Sure, they probably don’t like it either when I’m yanking their head up so that they're facing the screen or breathing down their neck asking them what line they’re reading now. But still, no respect for the arts.

I like aprons.

I don't like it when you just have to “give in” when you’re winning an argument because the other person is just a “child”. It’s just not bloody fair. 

I like old keys. I love the feel of them. 

I don't like smiling when wearing white because it makes your teeth look so-very-not-white.

I like how everyone is financially equal in Facebook. No matter what pictures you’re posting – of your 3 different cars or scenes from the bus you ride to work everyday.. or from where you send your comments – your shiny new Blackberry or a shady old internet café down the street, you’re all on Facebook. Its literally like you all hang out at the same place. Without having to constantly check how much is left in your wallet. Which is cool.  

I don't like it when someone near me coughs or sneezes. I hold my breath for as long as I can or until I feel that the viruses and bacteria has stopped floating around in the air and has settled. Or I flap the air around me towards them as subtly as I can.

I like the way people’s eyes sparkle in movie theaters.

I like it when someone touches my hair. Or my ears.

I like blood red nail polish.

I like old scars and telling the story about how it got there. I always figured that "If a scar does not last too long on your body then it probably doesn’t have a story that is worth talking about." My very own quote.

I like making up my very own quotes. 

Job vs Marriage vs Ostrich Theory

You know, I just realised a lil earlier today that I'm turning 24 this year. 24! Thats like well a grown-up's age. I remember being a kid and having uncles who are 24. Shucks! I'm an uncle! Well, no an aunt technically. Actually no I became an aunt when i was...ok even before i was born. My cousins got kids older than me. Ok but why am I explaining this? What was I saying? Oh yeah, I'm like all old now! If u go back a few posts in my blog u'll see one bout why being 21 sucks. Now this is like 3 years later. And I actually had to count from 21 to 24 to see how many years. Ugh, old age sucks!

So this is probably the age around when most of my uncles n aunts got jobs and stuff. And I'm supposed to go out and get meself one of those things. A job. Me. Working.

Its not like I've never thought of it. I've thought of it a lot. I've always seen myself as this successful career woman who wears her hair in a bun (straighten hair) and wears grey suits and pencil skirts and stockings and heels, swinging a briefcase. Oooh and square glasses. And a cappachino in hand. Okay, so maybe I just had the outfit all planned out, not my life.

And I had this vision where I would drive up into my old school/college in my Audi, and all the other girls who were mean to me or smarter than me or prettier than me or just plain made my life miserable back then would be fat housewives with screaming brats (no offence to housewives here).

But you know what? I don't think thats happening. Cos I'm probably gonna get into being a fat housewife even before I get a job. Ha!

Yeah,my great big career-woman dreams down the drain. But you know what? The big working life sounds awesome but scares me shitless. I mean, Working...is so much different from Studying. You can always scrape thru somehow in the end in case of education. You kinda know what your getting into. Cos you've been doing just that for so many years. But work. I know nothing bout it! And I have to do it alone! No mommy and daddy to pull you outta crap. No friends to shoulder the blame or let you sneak a peek at their answers.

A coupla months ago, I thought I wanted to get married. I was like Hey! That sounds like fun! Maybe I should give that a shot!

But that was before, I started THINKING straight. And now everyone is all worked up about it and I'm like What Have I Started! I'm not ready to get married!! I mite be 24 but my mind is stuck at 4! Marriage is scarier than work! Its permanent! And you can always quit a job. But marriage..yeah well i guess you could technically quit..but not in my family..any talk of quitting, they send you for counselling.

So I've been walking around like a wet dog a lot recently and people have been asking me why. So now you know. I hate this point I'm at right now. I would give anything to go back just a coupla years and when it comes back to this point again, rewind again (No not back to high school. I can't put myself thru that torture again.Yeesh!)

So maybe I hate change. Maybe I can't adapt to it. Maybe I can't take risks. Atleast on my own. Maybe I should do what the ostriches do. The Ostrich Theory. Stick my head in a hole on the ground until danger passes. Right, so if anybody needs me for anything, you know where I'll be. Waiting, with my head in the mud, for my life to make sense again.

p.s- when I tried to type "job" as a tag for this post, it sorta automatically clicked into "jobless" from a previous post. I tried to turn it into "job" a coupla times but then I realised..uh hello, the damn thing is right. I'm not job...I'm jobLess! Face it! The computer knows better!