How it changes

When I was about 16, and the internet was just taking root properly in India (and a friend and i would email each other photos of hot actors we likes ahem), I had this email address on hotmail*, that was easily confusable with another one. My uncle sent me an email about the SAT that went to this other person, who turned out to be a 3-4 year older guy in Bombay. He realised the email was important to replied saying I think you've got the wrong id (who does that anymore??), and so I wrote to say thank you. We wrote back and forth, moved to chat and then one day, he called me! On the phone! I remember it as being really late at night, but I imagine it was about 9pm. It all fizzled out in the end, but I remember how supportive my mum was about it--after all it was before teh interwebs became widespread enough to be evil.

Several years later, when I was 22 or so, I was on a poetry emailing list called minstrels, that would send you a poem a day (ah I wish someone would revive it), and often readers would send in poems they liked. I did that once, with Michael Ondaatje and once with Derek Walcott. One of those times, a guy wrote to me to tell me it was a great poem, and we began to write back and forth, and there began a very enduring friendship with one of the nicest people I have ever know. I went to Bombay to see him. It was also my first visit to Bombay and he took me to dinner somewhere nice and was very kind and big brotherly to me for three years or so. We even wrote each other GINORMOUS letters at one time. We're not terribly in touch anymore, though there is still the random sms.

This was also the time I reconnected with Oldest Friend, and we'd spend hours chatting. Then I got onto xanga, and met this group of amazing people. It was a lonely time for me, and I felt like they kept me alive. I went to Bombay and met them all. I spent HOURS chatting with them. Today, I don't really see or talk to most of them much, OF included, but they're there in the background, and they really made a difference in my life at the time.

That time around though, people thought I was weird. My family was suspicious and my friends downright mocked me. 'How can you meet people online? How can you be assured of a person until you've met them?' etc. My mother always said, if you have interests and go out you'll meet people.

Right now, the most important and interesting people in my life I have met online. CB, and through him MW (you remember them from yesterday). Also Lithium (who I am ashamed to say I was thoughtless enough to leave out, though he has been a transformative person in the past three months of my life). And today, I met a guy who is as randomly latindio as I am latindia, is in love with Colombia, and works on wildlife conservation--specifically tigers. We spent an hour and a half on the 5th floor terrace of a cafe in Hauz Khas Village tumbling over our words, leaping between languages, in our need to agree and share and just talk about all these things we have in common, parts of ourselves that we can never really share with the majority of people we know in India. It was a magical feeling**: someone in INDIA, FROM India, actually GOT it. 

My point is, CB, Lithium, Latindio, they're all people I would never have met otherwise. CB and I have a lot of friends in common, but it's only because we know each other. Lithium and I had actually met in the past but I had no idea, and I never would have expected this friend out of that meeting. And of course, Latindio. For all the gym, salsa classes, mad socializing both for work and just cos I like it, for all the effort I have put in to meet people I can connect with, it's only teh interwebs that has given them to me. I think of it as a sign of how everything is changing--the ways we keep in touch, the meaning of keeping in touch, the ways we find community and belonging; they're all changing.

 *Remember hotmail? When it was all we had? Thank the lord for progress!
**Pipe down he's clearly gay and far too young

Peripheries

I think one of the causes for my recent misery is that I feel rootless. I had serial epiphanies at the end of trip, and once I returned, which made me realize the following: What I really miss is family. This is why the despair when I think of the niece, or the need to call the parents twice a day. But family doesn’t mean necessarily blood ties—I had a family in Hyd too, which is why I miss it so much.

I do not have any sense of belonging here, even though I have many friends. I don’t see them often enough, and the ones I do see often already have their spaces of belonging and I am afraid to impose. In Delhi, I have about five good friends I see on a regular basis. They are all guys (some things never change), which makes me the ultimate bro of course (more on THAT some other time), and they are all people I have met after I moved here—most of them I’ve known since December/January. Just to recap, they are, in the order in which I met them, Favourite Colleague, Chocolate Boy, Most Bengali Guy, Mad Writer and Organized writer. FC and MBG are the fags to my hag, and they, along with CB, work with me, so I see those three about four to five days a week. MW used to be online all day and talking to me most of it, making him practically a constant, but those days are gone. OW and I have brief, erratic and very intense interactions. 

But all these friends are also well set in their own circles, which makes me often feel that I skulk on the peripheries of their lives--oo MinCat's great fun if she's here, but I wouldn't really notice if she weren't.

The problem is that CB and MW, with whom I tend to interact the most, are, unfortunately for me, the sort of thoughtless guys I like I call boys. The kind of people who, while this does not make them bad people, will remember me when they need something, not really feel that they need to express appreciation/affection in any way because I don’t demand it and because it’s not their way. The problem with this is that, while I understand some people are just like that, I need someone in my life to not be like that, and be like me, because I DO feel hurt and rejected, despite the rational understanding of the situation (more on THAT later too). And I need someone to be physically there. Which brings me back to—I feel rootless. 

One thing that did occur to me is that, just as one doesn’t have to wear high heels to be pretty; does one need a husband to find roots? Why can I not be happy with just friends etc. Well I think that’s been explained heh. I think it would help dramatically if I had an old friend I could rely on to some extent move here. But then again I am reminded of Dragon. So maybe just my parents then. Or I move back to Hyderabad. But then I do so love my job. I could try and move to the bay area…but there’s that damn job again.

Catch-22. 

Well, at least I know.

evoL, yarP, taE*

So I got back from that dream trip last night.
That's right folks, your very own MinCat finally, FINALLY went to Colombia!
For two weeks, which felt like a lot until I got there and met all the backpackers doing six month trips. But still. I went to Colombia.
COLOMBIA!
Land of aguardiente, salsa and hot men who think I'm hot!
Two weeks of city hopping, staying up till four, consuming ridiculous amounts of booze, flirting, dancing--in a nutshell, fun!

No, not really.

It hit me when I was sitting in a hostel in Cartagena (Cartagena!! historic architecture! LOTS of HOT caribbean men who love culos caribeños!), the night before my birthday, choking and fighting back tears as I talked to OW while waiting for the nice Argentine couple to come have a drink with me.

It was like that everywhere. In Bogota, as I packed to leave for Manizales. In Manizales, as I sat in the bus station waiting for the bus to Medellin. In Medellin, as I stood in a bar, all dressed up, against the wall watching as everyone talked to one another and no one talked to me. In Tayrona, as I hiked up the mountain, through the gorgeous rainforest, and saw animals right out of Gerald Durrell. In Tayrona, as I sat on the second most beautiful beach I've ever seen, with the sun setting, the stars rising and a hammock awaiting me atop the cliff. In Bogota as I made a really bad but much appreciated Indian dinner for my friends, so I could turn thirty not completely alone. In Bogota, as I finally got drunk and danced at my friend's birthday party.

I went to my phone, as a live vallenato trio performed in the next room, and every single person there was drunk and dancing, and I wrote (yet another) self-indulgent email to The Bride (god bless her patience), about how I must be boy repellent, and it was quite amazing.

The next morning, I woke up and reread the email. It made me cringe. What had happened to me? Here I was, thirty, a good six months past the biggest slump I've had. Six months ago, I wouldn't have cared if a boy looked at me or not; I'd have been out there in the middle of the floor, dancing with someone. I would have asked people to dance. I would have been smashed out of my head in Medellin, partying with the lovely people I met. I would have been dancing with joy at being on that beach in Tayrona, ecstatic at having seen a peccary and a yellow-fronted amazon parrot. I would have found the couchsurfer in Cartagena and been dancing to bring in my birthday.

What has happened to me (again)?

I thought that all the fears that plague me, all the things I think can't happen or won't happen, were a direct result of where I was. I thought I was alone, and no one asked me to dance because they were stupid desi boys. I thought I always end up in the friend zone, or against the wall because no one here understands or appreciates me.

But it turns out that all this was inside my own head, and of course I took it with me. To Colombia, to New York, to Spain--it didn't matter where I went, I've dragged this chip around with me, nurturing and caressing it, holding it close and taking it to bed with me. And the only time I've ever taken my own advice, that I plentifully give out to other people, I WAS happy, I WAS in a magical place where these things disappeared into insignificance. All I have to do is really just let the goddamn chip go, look for the good things in my life (of which there are PLENTY), and live my life, as much as I can as much as I want, and not make myself feel like it is incomplete or I am waiting for anything to happen or anyone to come along.

And yeah, I had to leave India, land of epiphanies and great life-altering realizations, to figure it out.

*Do ya get it? huh huh huh?

The Watcher

A friend came to talk about his book (yes yes that's me all important editor), we shall call him Organized Writer, to differentiate from Mad Writer, and we ended up talking about the people we know in common and how their brains work.

So CB's brain is like a very neat, self-contained spiral, going smoothly, logically, rationally and methodically from level to level of every idea. MW's brain is completely insane, fizzing and spitting and dancing all over the place--like Brownian motion on crack. OW's brain is also fairly random, but with some underlying structure, either previously imposed or something it's working towards. Youngest Member will keep fiddling till he gets it. (This was all much better with the actions, which is how it actually transpired.) So then I said, what about me?

And he said, you? you're sitting here on the side, watching.

I have never had someone nail me down so perfectly. I'm a watcher.

I need to sit facing the maximum number of exits in any room, or the maximum amount of the room possible, which I joke about being related to having been a drug lord in a previous birth, but really, it's the best way to keep an eye on what's going on.

I love knowing things about people--even if I don't know them, or never will, I really, really, REALLY need to know all their stories.

I love being in groups of people at home, where I can watch my friends, what they're doing, how they're reacting to people and things.

I love sitting in the middle of a crowded place and watching people go by. I used to sit on a bench in the median on Broadway and watch people.

I love going to places and discussing what people are wearing, saying, might be thinking...

I love watching things and extrapolating things from what I see. I love watching humanity and trying to figure out what makes people tick. Maybe that's why I'm so madly social.

And the clincher? I'm an EDITOR! I WATCH BOOKS BEING WRITTEN!

Concentric circles

Chocolate Boy has a theory (that he says he saw in an article) that Delhi works in concentric circles. You hang out with people who live where you live, which is why you're always running nito the same people everywhere, etc, and the only thing that cuts through those circles is the metro.
I'm not convinced.

But, it is a lovely launchpad into a theory I formulated lying in bed at 1130 on a Sunday night, in response to CB's request that I introduce him to more cool people of that quality--referring to an old friend from the Pisspot who had been in town. My response: What can I say, Delhi limits me. All my real friends are of this quality, and they're not here.

And Eureka!

I have about four concentric circles of friends. The smallest and the closest has my family, and those people i don't even have to think about (though this once included the Dragon, so I wonder), the people I can say ANYTHING to, and whose opinions will make me rethink my situation. I have one Circle 1 person in Delhi, but he's been really caught up the past two months, in his own budding relationship and his own family drama.

Then there's Circle 2, which is the people I'd call if I were in trouble, and who I miss if I don't see often enough. This is my band of bewdas and CB and Mad Writer--the last two being very recent additions and slightly shaky, cos I've only known them about six months, and I don't really know if it is a reciprocally secure closeness. But they are there, which is good. They are also the only Circle 2 people I have here.

Circle 3 is people I would call to parties and like to see regularly, but don't really miss if I don't see often. Most of my Delhi friends are in this circle. They're great fun to go out and do something, but they're not people I'd stay home with.

And Circle 4 is people whom I'm happy to see, but don't really notice if I don't see. Which is the rest of my Delhi friends.

So I went from living in a mainly Circle 1 and 2 group to living in a mostly Circle 3 and 4 group, with very minimal representation from Circles 1 and 2. No wonder I'm lonely and desperate and pathetic.

But rejoice! The Hag is moving here. Hallelujah!

100 Years*

(Old post. Left in the drafts. And yet, it kinda works still.)

MinCat's back y'all. This blog is like my little warm safe wormy hole. Is anyone reading even? Not that I'd blame you if you'd given up...

Once again I run back to you my dear blog, because once again I'm stuck at dame lo que quiero. The question, as always, is QUE es lo que quiero? What do I want. I don't know anymore. Sometimes I think I need to see a hypnotist...

Three days ago I was wondering if I made the biggest mistake of my life because I left BBot. Now I'm wondering why I'm breaking rules over someone else. Someone else. Story of my life. Forgive me, best beloved, I'm a little drunk and a lot lost. So expect a ramble.

This year's love had better last caterwauls David Gray, and well, I think I couldn't agree more. Is there a love this year? You tell me. I drove under the influence, to get him home, when all I wanted was for him to stay. I think of him six hundred times a day. Even when I'm with someone else. And yes, by with I mean in bed with. He's emotionally unavailable, completely guaranteed to drive me crazy with insecurity if we ever end up together. But oh god, when he's touching me, I can't think straight. When he's talking to me, I'm interested. For him, I will listen to Bob Dylan. I tell myself I don't want to, I should not, and then I try and make sure we can spend time alone together. I spent fifteen minutes trying to catch the spot on me that smells like him tonight. I want to wrap him around me and never let him go.

I thought I was all cool now and I could handle sleeping with someone I like. We fool ourselves often, no?

*cos it's playing now, and it's kinda apt no?

Can't live with em, can't live without em

So, MinCat's roommate for the past 8 months is a wierdo. Seriously. she's cranky, has a foul expression on her face, keeps moving my stuff out of common areas, refuses to talk about anything that's not house related, and generally behaves like an annoying, entitled thakurain, which I hate. She yells at me for not dusting her large and HIDEOUS collection of knick knacks, when I am not allowed to have my own knick knacks. Never mind that [a] I don't really like knick knacks, especially thumbnail sized pigs or dead birds
and [b] If I HAD knick knacks, I'd have the maid dust them!
So I keep thinking I should move out.
But then I like the actual flat...

The thing is, she is a contributing, functioning adult, and that's GREAT. We leave each other alone and she's not psycho, or dirty, or particularly anything more than strange. If I weren't me, I'd probably love living with her.

But I am me.
I want to come home to someone who actually smiles at me. Who I can ask how their day was and make five minutes of pleasant conversation with. Who I can occasionally have a random chat with.
I hate, with a visceral hatred, going home when I know she'll be there. There are few things I hate more than going home to a home that doesn't feel like home. I hate that I am never comfortable having someone crash. I hate that I can't even work around her, because she will never tell me if she's going to be home on a give night, and takes offence if I ask.

Amma is visiting, and we were talking about this situation, and I realised something.

For whatever reason, for better or worse, the average individual is socially conditioned to move towards settling down. For girls, this means playing house--and that's where maybe Mungi and I had our friction for a while, because we were both trying to play house, and well one of us had to be the husband as it were.But now, more and more people are older and older and not settling down in the traditional sense. By this age, pretty much everyone is living on their own, or with someone they're in a relationship with. And here I am, nearly thirty, and sharing a house with a random person. There's no blueprint for how this goes. There are no simple roles we can fall into. And obviously each of us wants it be HER house, with the other person as lodger as it were.

I have wanted to settle into my own place for SO long. I waited ages to acquire furniture. I love having people over, and doing up the house. I love having people to stay. I have wanted, my whole adult life, to have my OWN house. And I still don't.

Which is maybe why I'm changing my mind every week about whether I should just throw caution to the winds and freaking move out on my own, even if I'm someone who likes having another person in the house. I could get a cat...