An ode to Thought Catalog

I am addicted to Thought Catalog. It gives me a feeling of solidarity with the world. It reassures me that I am not crazy, and not alone - both of which I have begun to feel very frequently of late. If I ever thought that my teenage years were full of confusion and uncertainties, that is nothing - NOTHING compared to my twenties. It's much the same anyway, and I don't know if this is just me but I'm struggling with pretty much the same kind of things - not knowing where my life is going, liking people who don't like me back, being utterly confused by peoples' reactions. The only difference, is that along with the same uncertainties there is an extra sense of guilt.

I feel like by this time I should be smarter, and more sorted, I should have different problems than I did when I was 15, nearly a decade ago. There is a n underlying feeling of scorn and shame that I don't have it all figured out by now. Everywhere I look, I see people who are well on their way to successful careers, my friends have gotten a couple of promotions already; some are married, and an increasingly large number of them get engaged every day; some have moved to different cities, or countries; and all of them excitedly share their perfect lives with the world. And I am single, still living at home, and not 6 months old at my first job. Not even sure that I really am done studying, second-guessing my decision to quit my research degree. 

And this is why I am in awe of the people who write for Thought Catalog. They don't have it figured out either, and they aren't afraid to say it. They tell the stories of their mistakes and their messes with a warm, funny, self-deprecating humour that endears them to me, and I'm sure to their other readers too. Like me, they're braving their way through these twenties, hoping that at the other end, there is clarity and stability. They talk about what they learnt and what they didn't; what they did right and what they didn't; the people they hurt and the people who hurt them. 

Much has been said about the one-dimensionalness of TC articles - that they have the same repetitive stilted way of writing, are targeted at bored, jaded, neo-bohemian and narcissistic twenty-somethings, and have the mandatory pop culture references. These assertions might well be true, but if something makes you feel better about the world, why knock it? So many times I've been  been astounded when I read an essay that sounds like something I might have written, if I got that tone down pat. It's stopped me from feeling stunted and alienated, and reaffirmed my faith in things. That isn't a small feat.

I'd love to make someone a fellow twenty-something feel better about the world. It would be very noble.

Why I dislike Airtel IPTV's Time Shift function

When we first got IPTV at home after years and years of cable, I was intensely happy. No more endless waiting for Roadies/Splitsvilla repeats (yes I was a Roadies AND Splitsvilla junkie, and I'm only a tiny bit ashamed to admit it), no more rushing home in time for a prime time movie, no more waking up at 4am to watch the Oscars (which I have never till date seen, despite thinking every year that I totally will), and best of all, no more scheduling lunch, dinner, study breaks etc. around TV programming. 

Academically, all that still holds, and I no longer do any of those things. But, my TV watching has dropped drastically. And one of the major reasons for that is the Time Shift. I don't follow any show regularly, so it's not like I have something specific to watch, and the Time Shift is really really bad when you just want to chill and watch something vaguely interesting. The sheer pressure of having every single thing that has aired over the past one week available to watch is too much. I spend so much time poring over the week's programming for every channel, in fear that I'm watching this slightly interesting show, when on another channel there might be a far more enticing one. I worry that I'm wasting my time watching a movie that I'll only somewhat like, when I could be watching one that I missed in the theater and had been waiting for. 

I have to see EVERYTHING that's available before I decide what I want to watch, and usually by the time I've gone through everything, an hour has gone by and nothing has seemed more than 80% convincing. Even worse, if I actually am able to decisively choose one show/movie, the overwhelming chances are that I've forgotten which channel and what time it was supposed to be playing, and I'll have to go through everything from the start, trying to find it.  

Time Shift is a boon if you know what you want to watch - I regularly blessed its existence during the Masterchef Australia days. But either most content on TV these days sucks, or I've become far too spoilt by having Torrents. 

Whatever the reason is, TV isn't fun anymore. I miss watching ads too. And movie trailers. But they're repeated sooo often that fast-forwarding them isn't really optional. How many times in one commercial break can you watch a mediocre or downright stupid ads? Sadly, in the skipping, I miss out on the good ones too. 

I tell myself that if it's really good, it'll get shared on Facebook/Twitter. 

I want to read

I want to read. And not an article or movie or TV episode review. Not a Tweet or Facebook or BBM status update, no matter how amusing. Not a blog. Not an email, or five hundred of them. And for heaven’s sake, not a report or presentation or minutes. I want to read a book. Not an e-book. Not a book to proofread. A real honest-to-god, page-turn-able, bookmark-requiring book. 

I spend about seven-eighth of my average workday reading stuff. No exaggerations at all. Not all of it is necessarily work. Sometimes I get distracted and read non-relevant articles or something that's been shared on Facebook/Twitter. And the remaining one-eighth I write. But then I have to read what I write too, more than once, so it just adds to the total time. 

And yet, it feels like I haven't read anything in really, really long.

It isn't that the stuff I read is boring. Far from it. I often come across really insightful pieces, my Twitter timeline is full of Tweets that are very witty and often crack me up, and sometimes I read something that is so well-written that it evokes envy - why couldn't I have written that?

But I am sick of reading on a screen. I've had an almost constant headache for about two years now, some days it's less, some days it's excruciating, some days it's dormant, but I don't think it's ever going to go away. 

I want to read on paper. I want to hold the book in my hands, turn the pages, spend hours without being called away, not look at my phone, not talk to anyone; just be completely immersed in the universe of the book. Be lost in the story, visualise as I read, not notice if someone tries to attract my attention. For a few hours nothing else exists but me and the book, me and the characters, me and the story. 

Or not even me; just them.

Much later, re-emerge into the real world, adjust my bearings, get used to outside. 

Repeat.

I miss the feeling terribly. 

PPTs

If I wanted a job that involved making PowerPoint presentations I would have taken one of those that I was being offered three years ago when I graduated, which were paying me more than what I earn right now - three full years and a post-graduate degree later. 

AND I'd be making a minimum of THREE TIMES THAT AMOUNT TODAY, if I'd stuck it out at the big fancy corporate. 

Also, I hate Trebuchet MS.

That is all.

Shit people say

The funniest thing about the 'Shit Delhi People Say' and 'Shit Bombay People Say' videos are the comments on them where people go - That is so not how a Delhi guy talks, the guy in the video is obviously from Bombay or This girl is so shrill, she can't be a Bombay girl, she must be from Delhi.

I have two questions:

A. Why are people from Delhi/Bombay making videos about each other? Why wouldn't you want to stick with what you know and make videos about yourselves?

B. What's with all the hatred? I don't understand it. As a Delhi girl, I have done my duty and hated on Bombay as much as everyone else, but only because it offends me when people randomly badmouth Delhi - my pride is injured, I'm obviously going to fight back. But I have never understood it.

I think the videos are hilarious though. I wish we could all find it easier to laugh at ourselves.

Words really are mighty

Last night, somewhere in the early a.m., during a phone conversation, I said something that I thought was very profound. It wasn't received very well - I was asked to shut up and not dispense gyaan at such an ungodly hour, and I immediately thought fine, I am so going to write about this - of course I promptly passed out within minutes of that thought, so it didn't happen.

But still, this is me attempting to explain why I think words are so powerful, and why it surprises me so much that people don't seem to think so.

I am usually very careful about what I say, notable possible exceptions being when I am either very drunk or very nervous, or when I am caught completely off-guard by something. I measure my words carefully, and agonise over using just the right expression to put something across. I am always conscious about how what I say will be perceived by people. Sometimes this manifests itself in ways as ridiculous as me taking twenty minutes to craft an email that essentially has to say something as simple as, we will evaluate the same and get back to you.

And I don't think this is such a terrible thing. Because watching what you say can potentially save you from a lot of trouble. I wonder if I am the only person who does this? Do people usually just say the first thing that comes into their head? I know that there are times when people have thought that I do just say the first thing that comes into my head. But I know that if that's the impression that people got of me, then it's exactly what I intended to convey.

Lately I've begun to wonder often, whether in so many years of being careful of portraying myself in a certain way, I've forgotten who I am when no-one is around.

Being yelled at

And so, just on the verge of completing two months at work, I get my first real yelling. On a Saturday night. While on a conference call. 

I feel sick, and the thought of going in to office today fills me with dread. I'm hurt, disappointed, unappreciated, not just a little angry, and very indignant. 

My mom thinks I should have a chat with my boss. Tell him that I felt he over-reacted to the issue, and that I understood why he was upset with me, and that I would ensure I wouldn't let it happen again, he needn't have been as venomous as he was. Unfortunately, I have never been good at confrontations. In all my years, I have never been able to present my point of view calmly and rationally to someone who isn't predisposed to listen. Any attempt to clarify my stand in such a situation, usually ends with me in tears.

And I don't think bursting into tears while talking to my boss is a very good idea.

I want...

I want to live in a place where the weather is warm all year round and there are pretty beaches. I want to be able to leave work-related worries behind when I leave office in the night and not have them prey on my mind till I go back the next morning. I want to be skinny. I want to go shopping and blow an entire month's pay on clothes. I want to drink beer and not get fat. I want to be as good a writer as I think I am. I want to stop feeling like life is passing by too fast and I'm somehow getting left behind. I want some reassurance that the choices I've made in my life have been the right ones. I want to know that I haven't caused any lasting damage due to my own indecision. I want to feel more in control and less like I'm spiralling faster and faster towards an unknown doom, trapped in a web of my own making. 

Nobody likes to be put on a pedestal

I think I may finally have a idea about what went wrong. It struck me as I received a text last night from a friend who was talking about a girl he likes. "She is so beautiful and so nice, she deserves someone so much better than me." It irritated me no end. Who decides what anyone deserves? 

And then I realised that it wasn't so uncommon for people to think like that. I had been treated that way too, not in such an obvious manner - but every action, every word spoken had conveyed that thought subtly. I don't know if it was intentional or not, but the fact is - if you treat someone like they're too good for you, at some point, they're going to start believing it. 

I'm ashamed to admit that I might have begun believing it too. It showed in my constant irritation, in the insensitive way that I said things I shouldn't have, in my condescending attitude, in my sense of entitlement, in my refusal to conform to expectations. I knew throughout that I was behaving badly, unforgivably badly, and yet somehow I just couldn't stop it. 

All he had done was to treat me like I deserved something, and I let it get to my head. At one level I knew that I really should appreciate it more, but on the surface, all I felt was irritation. Why was he persisting in letting me have my way all the time? Why would he never fight back? Why did he never say anything?!

Eventually it became too hard to handle. I don't know how, or even if at all, that line of thinking can be reversed. I don't think there's any going back. I would like to express my regret, but I don't know if I should. So I'm just going to say this.

I wish I hadn't let it get to my head.

I'm sorry.

Will I get fired for tweeting about how cute a speaker is?

I've been asked to tweet about my impressions of the speakers from my personal Twitter account, such as if I think a particular speaker is really good or insightful or dynamic or whatever.

But my question is, what if I thought a speaker was just simply adorable, all rugged and perfectly stubbled and dimpled?

I'm not sure whether a tweet expressing this will meet with an approving response. I'm thinking best case response will be Oh never mind - let the youngsters have their fun.

Or actually even better, I knowww, right??

Sadly the reality is likely to be something more along the lines of How dare you besmirch the name of our publication with your juvenile tweets?!

Thankfully I have a blog!

My first bout with sleeplessness

I'm going to be covering a pretty large-scale business and media conference and tomorrow - my first (yay!) - and I feel super-nervous, on account of the fact that I have no tools to work with - no internet data card, no video recorder, no 3G enabled device. And I'm stressing about the stupidest of things, like finding time to cut my nails tomorrow morning so that I won't end up mutilating the surface of my poor iPad. I've found work-arounds for all these things that I do not, currently, have - but it's left me with a deeply uneasy feeling. With so many things being substitutes and set up quite precariously, at least one of them is bound to go wrong. 

Strictly speaking, it's not sleeplessness that's my problem right now. I'm pretty positive that if I shut my eyes, I'll be out like a light in the next five minutes. I'm just too scared to sleep. I'm terrified that I'll sleep right now, only to wake up and realise that it's 8am, and I'm fired. I have a comprehensive history of oversleeping on the most critical occasions. 

Even more worrying, I don't know what to wear tomorrow.

Thoughts that occur as I'm forced to watch a trance-y YouTube Video at 1:30 am

I find distorted music annoying on the most fundamental level. I heartily dislike most electronic music (barring the odd exception or two). I find music without lyrics very very boring. And put them all together - electronically distorted lyric-less music : I have no words. Barf. 


Why does it exist?


Oh right, the whole dividing by genres thing if we all go to prison for music piracy. While I think on the whole that it's a sound idea (pun intended :D), I think I'd probably be friend-less there.


Shucks yaa.

Happy thoughts

I've spent this far-too-cold Saturday afternoon sitting a blanket, ostensibly reading work-related articles - which later turned into a Thought Catalog marathon - and wanting to write a new blog post. Every subject that came to mind was some sort of a rant and so I decided to go the opposite way. A list of the things that make me happy. In no particular order:

Sunny afternoons in the end of winter. Coming home to find my favourite food for dinner. Reaching the platform the exact same time as the metro. Thinking I've lost my favourite pen and then finding it in the pocket of last week's jacket. Discovering a really pretty new pair of earrings at the street-side hawker. Reading a book and remembering the last time I read it. Waking up to find that my hair has curled perfectly in the night. Reading a book and noticing something that I had (somehow) missed in all the previous reads. A friend texting/calling/pinging just when I'm thinking of them. Someone returning a book that I'd given up as long lost. A new episode of any of the shows I watch. Glee covering a song I like. New shoes. Being welcomed home by my dogs. MasterChef Australia. Waking up before the alarm rings and being able to spend a few minutes in bed. Getting caught in a heavy downpour when I don't have any electronics/books on me. Walking in the rain. Watching the rain when I'm warm and dry and alone at home. Knowing I've put my best effort into something. Walking in sync with the beat of the song on my ipod. Red light blinking on my blackberry on a slow day.

I think if you start making a list like this and don't know where to stop, it's a pretty good bet that you're doing alright, even if the day/week/month/year/decade isn't going the way you hoped it would.

Touchwood!

:)

The attempt to post again

A week down and I’ve not had a moment to think about updating the blog. Either that or I don’t have an opinion on too many things. In which case this blog is just a complete waste of space. Or I haven’t gotten the hang of it yet. It’s hard to walk the line between writing a personal journal, and writing something that’s of interest to other people who might read it.

Right now I’m struggling with how much context to provide. Do I write it as a vent saying just what I want, or do I provide background information so that my post reads like a story and then people can make sense of it? And if I do that, do I selectively tell the story, do I embellish to make it more interesting, or delete what occurs to me as superfluous?

What’s an ideal post length? As long as I want to write, or short so people don’t get bored?

How totally meta is this – blogging about blogging?

The why

I used to be another person on the internet. Not someone particularly interesting or witty or funny or popular or anything. A jack of all trades type. Interested in lots; authority on none. I always wanted to start a blog, but resisted - I didn't think anyone would want to read what I had to say. I procrastinated to the point where I decided that everyone worthwhile already had a blog and now it would be entirely "wannabe" if I got one. I bemoaned my anonymity. I wanted to be read and loved but I didn't want to write and publish on the Net. I wanted to be somebody, but I didn't want to put myself out there. 

And I figured if I was the only one reading it, there really wasn't any merit in putting my ramblings up in public, over say, letting them stay in my journal. And so again and again, I signed up for blogs and then chickened out of uploading a post. 

Then, recently, I became a journalist. A young budding journalist, still not someone whose views were sought after; but suddenly I was someone whose views were now associated with the publication I was writing for. I felt "cool". I thought I was on my way to actually having people clamoring to read what I was writing.  And then yesterday, while scrolling through my Twitter feed, I came across a tweet which I thought was absolutely hilarious. I was just about to retweet it, when I abruptly paused. What if someone took offence? Suddenly I had to keep in mind that I couldn't afford to tick off anyone prominent, because I was no longer answerable only to myself, I was also answerable to my organisation.

The tweet in question was poking fun at two celebrities who happened to be in the news then. I wanted to retweet it not because I had any particular animosity for those celebrities, but because I thought it was really witty and it made me snigger. The chances of those people seeing my tweet would have been slim to none, but I still felt curbed. The powers above certainly would not have appreciated what I thought was a harmless joke and so, giving in to the doubts, I decided not to retweet it.

And since I had lost my absolute freedom of opinion on Facebook/Twitter, I decided I needed a blog. That would not be linked to my professional profile. Where I could say anything I wanted without worrying about whether my boss might object or not.

Ironically, because I had become a somebody (albeit a very very very minor somebody), I wanted the anonymity of a nobody again.

But the long-forgotten thought of a blog got me super excited and in a burst of enthusiasm I proceeded to type my first blog post pretty much instantly. I debated briefly about where to host my blog and then having made my choice, signed up. Then the big page asking for the title of my blog showed up and I was stymied. I had absolutely no ideas about what to call my blog, and every name that I thought of was more clichéd than the next. Over an hour passed by and the blog still didn't exist. And for some strange reason the word 'swivel' got stuck in my brain, probably  while I was thinking of how thoughts were swooshing around inside it. I decided to stop fighting it, and quickly, before I could change my mind again, I submitted it.

After all there are few things in the world as cool as swivel chairs. And the arbitrariness of the name pleases me. Sadly the blog domain was already taken and I had to try various permutations before I found one mutually acceptable to both me, and the site. 

So I have a blog now!

Yay.

Yes I clearly have a tendency to abruptly lose steam and peter off awkwardly.