The Joy of Pain

Leaving behind one's pain and insecurities is, by and large, an uphill task. You never know if you'll eventually reach the sweet spot where you're, for all intents and purposes, 'over it'. Having been through my fair share, I'm in a position to share my two cents about it as well. There are many schools of thought regarding dealing with something unpleasant. Some believe that it is in the best interest of the affected party to grieve and move on; loosely translated - days and probably months of tears till your glands run dry. Another ever-popular and ever-so Goth alternative is to bury it deep down and never speak of it again; with the exception of an annual drunken scenario where you bear all to a perfect stranger. Confrontation or fighting the fear or opposition has been the 'winner's formula' that P.E teachers have been doling out since the turn of the century; ever since P.E became more than just a filler.
                                            Now this leaves us to our school. Call us masochistic but we believe that in embracing our pain we do one better than all the others. Pain and insecurities often cause the worst gashes that could turn into something truly dangerous. Instead of ignoring its presence or misdiagnosing solutions, one has to come to terms with it and not merely by crying. By realising that tears have brought along with it less dramatic but better company like learning, strength and understanding, you take the first step towards a better path. When you realise that all this supposed negativity gives you the final nudge to create something and push for what it is that you truly want. It makes you dig a little deeper, think a little clearer and understand a little better. Now, the jury is still out on which school triumphs but when the results are a stronger person with possibly a great story to tell, we may have tipped the scales a bit. 

Dream Notes

There were many singers who sat behind run-down trucks crossing state lines, coining words to go with the dust in the air and the warmth of the unpredictable. Artists have been taunted by the bare canvas and blank pages alike. While they try to figure out the empty spaces between inspiration and creation, a torture engulfs their very soul. It makes it impossible for them to think or even breathe. Across the sky, birds fly without bounds and direction, tempting them and leaving behind a shell of a person. The men run their fingers through their hair and the women toss pebbles into the creek, hoping in the name of God or Nature or Synergy or Nothingness, that the dry spell end. Without direction, we just keep moving along this path that takes us nowhere and that makes it all the more fearsome.

There is no saying if we'll hit a dead end or a wrong turn. Why, just the other day we heard in the papers about the man who led a woman down an alley way, to her death. She didn't know where to go and played a hunch on a blighted moment. While we hear jazz music in the background with head a-spinning, you can't do very much to stop it either. A cigarette swirl and a knee-weakening move turn everything into a beautiful haze.  

Getafix's Brew

We'd love to collate all the truly fascinating, famous, great and accomplished people of this world and break down their components into molecules to figure out their secret ingredient. After hours under the magnifying glass we hope to find that single entity, no matter how big or small,
that is the source of their power. The pre-teen nerds that were buried within an abandoned moat, come crawling out; they have found a portal for resurrection. Unfortunately, we see that there is no such place or tonic or life experience in particular that brought about their rise but just passion.

                                                                                                         The self-consuming belief that they will do whatever it is to achieve perfection. That not another soul goes hungry on their watch. That no yard of cloth will go unpressed. No sentence taken for granted and no cog without oil. 

                                                                                                                                   Here, within this bubble of their ideas, they don't see deadlines or failures or a well-paying ticket out of this but the hope that tomorrow they will be better, grow higher and never stop feeling what it truly means, to feel alive. Before we define success in terms of closet-contents and wallet-fillers, maybe we can try and put a price to a victorious smile after a hard day's labour. 

Ms Egalitarian trying to go beyond Escort and Empowered

The more strides we take and discoveries we make, the more our pasts become significant; just like the roots of the tree grow stronger with every inch it moves towards the sky. Funnily enough, this quality is a double-edged sword. As much as we cling to our cultural habits and fondness for unusual tuck-shop treats, we also hold those stereotypes. Judgemental glances that strike unawares and an atheist drawing a cross as if to adjust their collar are all part of everyday paradoxes and stereotypes. One of societies favourite examples - women, stand the test of time to be the penultimate stereotype.

We have many schools of thought - social, political, cultural, feminist ideology and the layman's brush-off attitude. You cannot bring yourself to understand why is it that even the most liberated and worldly of men and women cannot expunge themselves from it. At those befitting moments when your stereotype limerick is on the nose, you wonder "Can't a liberal make a joke nowadays?"

It's not so much the joke as the lever and pulley within your brain that thrusts out such relevant and insightful repartee. It's when you scrape the bottom of the barrel and or look underneath that you see that nothing much has changed around you. It's the same old things under a glaçage of gloss and grammar. Even so, we cannot ignore that we are on a slow but definite path towards change. One that'll take us to the utopian future but until then, a woman with red lipstick still causes a split-second query - Escort or Empowered?

Image Courtesy - couturecourier

Just a roundup

We have a lot of opportunities to make a difference but they seem to pop up at the most inconvenient hour.

Chocolate does more credit than we give it credit for, not only is it the beginning of joy but it's now a lucrative profession and doesn't it sound seductive when you say you're a chocolatier

Anything worthy of attention must come decked in surrealist garb or dipped in the hottest neon-hue

High Heels are undeniably uncomfortable and cataclysmic for your feet but, like after cigarettes and caffeine, after a while it all seems irreverent

You haven't really achieved a truly estro-testos equilibrium until you fixed your anklet with a trusty pair of pliers or something like that

If you don't know what twerking means, then I should be talking to you instead of half of the people out there

A boy should have a nice jacket and a girl must have a pair of nice earrings, if not they need a hell of a reason

Aaah, those days of tomorrow...

We all think about the wonderful childhood we left behind. Every time we are cornered with an unexpected bill or an additional twist, we think about how great it would be to go back in time and blow bubbles in the yard. While there is a lot of merit to this line of thought, it seems a little unfair to those special moments of being an adult. At this point, we are much closer to making a difference. We are ready to take things in our stride and bury those hatchets. When things are a little tight, you can still loosen the purse strings a little to buy your sister something nice. All those things that made being an adult a scary step, somehow manages to have its high points. Sometimes, when we take responsibility, we can't help but feel a little more ready to wake up to a better tomorrow. It's funny how seamlessly all of us transition from a clueless world to one where you're collecting clues by the dozen.

Taboo of the Ordinary

We live in such dire times where normalcy has become a plague that the globe is trying to vaccinate. No longer can people walk down the street, just minding their own business, without breaking into song and dance. It has become a norm to sport mismatched socks, buzzed haircuts or a picture-perfect outfit, fit for the glossies. We simply must not live a life where we juggle home, work and a few odd days out. There are grave consequences to those who unwittingly say that travelling is not their cup of tea.
                                                                                                                              We are consumed by quirks, irregularities and the unusual so much so that we can't figure out which is which any more. Being creative and having something unique takes precedence over a kind heart and a boring old job. It is acceptable for me to not know where my life is going and indulge in kitsch art and heart-wrenching poetry but not quite acceptable if I decide to spend the day home in front of the television instead of reviving a dying art.