Its been crazy, so I wont even say anything. There are fleeting thoughts that pass through my mind and I think about blogging but I dont, because they are fleeting and other weighty matters shoo them away and this blog remains ignored until a thought becomes stronger and manages to brush away some of the cobwebs around here.

I have been running a whole lot lately, prepping for the half marathon coming up. Recently, I was hanging out with my new boss at work, and we were talking about ability. He suddenly asked me what I was good at. For a bit, I was lost, what an I good at? The first thing that came to mind was dance. I used to be a good dancer, now I am not so sure. WHat else am I good at? At running? not really, too slow for that. What else is easy for me? I still draw a blank when I think about the answer to that question,

Then it occured to me…how often do we reinforce other people’s being good at something? We definately criticize when we  think someone isn’t right. But how often do we tell them that they rock at something? How many times in the past few days have you told someone that they are really really good at something. If you do so, you may be surprised to find that they are surprised you thought it was good.

Most times when people say I was good at something, I am surprised. In my past my family were the only people who thought I was good. Its only because they thought so that I do something now. And I think we all learn to look so uber-confident, that noone guesses we are uncertain of our ability to do something. And just telling them that they did a great job or that you really enjoyed their presentation makes someone feel a little bit surer of themselves, gives them a little confidence the next time they set out to do that thing again. and maybe they think of things to say when someone asks them about what they do well. Sometimes, you just need someone to tell you. And sometimes you just need to be the teller to carry around that lovely glow from the telling. So go on, tell someone specifically what they are good at..and tell me all about it!

I, the infrequent blogger have blogged for a long while now. Albiet, unreliably but still I blog. I am also a reader of blogs. I like reading a large variety of blogs on my large variety fo interests. Most of them centering around food, fitness, finance (yess, i am interested in finance and what i’d do with money if i ever had any) and even random funny blogs. 

The question that popped up in my mind today after reading this post on “Every Gym’s Nightmare”, was that why do you blog? What motivates food bloggers to put up every morsel of food, what makes you want to post feelings or desires or random rants and ramblings or maybe even be like me, without a coherent theme. This blog is obviously no money maker for me. I do struggle with my weight, my relationships and have the same ups and downs as everyone else and sometimes I like to air ‘em out. Most people know I do this thing here and hopefully very few of them actually follow it (sends up a short prayer on that one).

Blogs however, have become such a strong way of community building. People who enjoy food find other foodies. Mostly though they find lurkers like me who just like to experiment in the quiet of their kitchen and barely ever actually discuss it. Some find a sense of community in the fact that they are not the only ones going through a particular trauma or experience or lifestage or whachmacallit. Some find a fan following and much riches off their blogs, yet others find accountability by reporting what they eat or workout. In this increasingly isolated world sometimes it seems so much easier to find like minded people in the online world than to actually go about it the hard way, by slowly finding them one after another, sometimes simultaneously. But what to do when your interests are too diverse? I love working out and like to stick to a reasonable diet. I also love running, but I am also a reader who can stayed glued to a book for as much time as it takes to find out what happened. I love gardening, but dont have enough space to call mine a garden. I dont have much advice to give and nothing very spectacular done which says, here do this and ye shalt be happy.  I dont do much opnionating here, i have strong opinions on things which i prefer sharing personally in a conversation rather than on a loudspeaker. However mild I may be, I have gotten into trouble with this blog and therefore I hesistate before I write. Yet, I do, to think things through sometimes, to document events sometimes and mostly to just share and to keep in touch with folks I dont see or hear much from anymore.

Why do we read ‘em blogs then? I like to know that others struggle too. I find that overly cheerful blogs put me off, as do overly sad ones. There has to be a bit of balance. Everyone has bad days but everyone has happy days too. I like some food for thought, some new thought process, something that sparks the creativity in the kitchen and outside.  I like knowing that there are others out there who think about food pretty much 24/7 as I do. I love peeking into their lives and seeing what different folk make of the same set of ingredients provided to them by life. Yet I dislike the hero status they get awarded and become celebrities and lose some of their former passion and become mouthpieces. I hate it when their real life gets in the way and they get stung by the presence of a blog.  I like the feeling that I know them, their thoughts and in the case of food bloggers, what they eat (which is an ever consuming passion of mine). So deceptive isnt it? You think you know a person so much more just because of their fb status updates or from their blogs but still you know only what they choose to put out there, as chandu recently iterated on her blog, you see but a sliver of their life, dont draw conclusions based on that. Take what is good and leave the rest. But the question remains why do you blog? or read blogs in general? or this one in specific?

I struggle everyday with the thought of closing this blog. Sometimes, and more and more often these days, I have nothing to say. I open this and look at the blog, and say wow nothing to say. Then sometimes I look through the archives and they act as reminders of the phases I have ben through. Last year, I went through so many ups and downs, the then new boy and his antics, the crazy breakup and then never hearing from him again. Can be seen here . I reread it today and remembered what a painful time it was and how I had to remind myself to be happy. I actually have a post it of lists of things that make me happy in my office. But then not even a month after I wrote that post, I met someone who made me very very happy. He has been for me, a source of comfort, happiness, support and just plain joy. And now he’s left. Our paths have diverged, really had no choice in the matter. We will stay friends, there are some people that the word ex should not be associated with. He will always be my friend above all. I miss him, i miss him everyday and find myself storing up tidbits to share with someone who isnt there anymore.  I remind myself everyday, that sometimes the choices are taken out of our hands and one has to deal with the given. Trying not to deal with it bitterly or unhappily but with the knowledge, that this too shall pass and maybe in passing result in something brighter and better. I wish him much joy and happiness, because, still, inspite of its end, the happiness he brought never went away. Follow your rainbows, I will wait for mine.  I read this somewhere and rereading it helps too:

On our journey, we meet many souls with whom we interact, exchange energy, in a way that enhances our growth and theirs. We learn lessons together. We break bread. We share love. But there often comes a time to say good-bye.

A good-bye can come suddenly, unexpectedly, without much warning. Or a good-bye can be expected, planned on, and take a while to work out. The length of time doesn’t matter. What matters is how we handle our good-byes.

We can do it with our hearts open, saying thank you for all we’ve learned. Or we can close our hearts and bitterly say we’ve lost again. We can say good-bye with an attitude of trust, faith, and love, believing our hearts led us together, for the time we were close, to celebrate life and further our journeys. Or we can do it with harsh judgment, asking what’s wrong with us that our paths didn’t let us stay together. We can say good-bye with our hearts open, feeling our sadness, our longing, and our joy. Or we can say good-bye with emotions walled off, saying that’s just the way life is.

Sometimes, it’s hard to say good-bye. We can’t always choose timing, but we can choose the words of our heart. And sometimes it’s not good-bye. It’s till we meet again.

What do you think?

I have missing for far too long. Life has a way of taking over and wringing it out of me. Leaving me mostly wordless.  Much talking, persuading has been done in the past month to no avail. Que sera sera it is folks! In other news, much dancing and not much research has been done. I am in the grip of a dissertation slump, post prelims.

I have neglected this blog, yet right now I have nothing to say. I however, plan to share with you some interesting comparisons between dance and research.

So I dance, and I also (although unwillingly) do research. Recently I won 3rd prize in a research forum, which got me 75$ gift card. Then I danced (as a group) for an event on campus..got 50$ gift card for that.makes me think..maybe should just dance again? But then again, look wistfully at research, it has its fun points you know, the high of running data, figuring out a design etc, is always fun! And again, dance..to dance well takes work too, to make sure you forget nothing and everything goes as planned.  Choreography is a lot like designing an experiment, takes forever and there are so many things to consider. As an aside..unless you dance on a song you never know how mny times they repeat the same damn thing…very frustrating that!

Research or dance..cannot choose, love both, also love being a trainer and kicking ass. Do you have to choose one? Does the desire to move my body have to take a backseat over the desire to exercise my mind? Do I have to leave any one behind? Can we not gather everything we like to do and keep doing them forever? Will I grow old and fondly think about my days of dance and laugh at my desire to dance? or wistfully think about it? In an alternate reality, will I grow old and wonder what cool research I could have done, and or made pots of money while helping organizations grow. Not that I am a professional dancer, or a brilliant researcher. I just like doing both to the best of my capabilities. 

The main point I think, is doing the best possible. Everything requires much hard work, that’s why sometimes hobbies become full time and jobs a way of life. To be the best you have to pour everything you got into it. To enjoy something , does not mean I am willing to devote hours into it, forever and forever. Play does become work sometimes, and work should be play. Enjoy what you do and you will do well. Too many paths untravelled, must remain unknown, the desires however remain, hazaaron kwaishein aisi!

Please forgive another shoe related post after a recent one. What happened is making me very sad so had to tell ya’all about it. I fell in love with a pair of shoes, they were high heels (I osciallate in my desire of flats vs heels), they were actually comfortable enough that I could envision myself walking in them for a few steps without vincing and they were affordable! The affordable part was only because they were majorly on sale, however, they were within the budget I had set for the day.  Then what? you say, you brought them and everyone lived happily ever after? Sadly not, as I said I only envisioned myself walking without vincing, the envisioning part came because they only had one shoe in the display and never found the mate of the damn thing. So i am shoe deprived and unable to get it out of my head. I admit, I havent thought of even the ex-boy with so mcuh longing. Maybe longing to stick afore mentioned high heels into his empty yet strangly swollen head, but not desire to possess. Seriously am obsessed with shoes.

Other than the shoes, the weekend was awesome! What can be better than old friends and tons of conversation and playing catch up?(the shoes that’s what…but nooooo). We did the usual fun stuff, hung out, shopped, ate and partied.  I realized how important it is to get out my part of the world even if for two days, because just two days can change perspectives, make things easier to come back to, situations become more transparent, one also has a desire to get a job and get some money and to get skinnier than ever…but that usually comes from hanging out with people with jobs.  Real jobs, I mean, where folks make real money, but then also worry more ..so it evens out I think.  But old friends? the one who know exactly how crazy you can get without having drunk an ounce,who know exactly what you looked like 4 years ago and therefore can appreciate the new and improved version and suitably flattering things, old friends who know what a foodie you are and treat you to Godiva shakes…that they then have to drink half of ..friends who know even today, what hits your buttons, not very close friends, not particularly, there is only one that i call that, but still..old friends, and nothing beats old friends except new memories with old friends.

Five years ago, on this very day, March 2, I found out I was going to KState for my PhD. My advisor-to-be (it is written) emailed me to tel me that I got in, and all about himself and how much he was looking forward to working with me. I was floored to say the least, I did not expect to be courted, did not think I was good enough for that, but he did court me and I did come here.  (yeah, the grammer of this sentence is very very hitchhiker’s galaxy). And now its almost 5 years in Manhappenin, at KState. 5 years ago, I was uncertain, life could take any angle, any twist or turn and it would not have bothered me. I was ready to roll with the punches and go wherever life took me. And boy, has the journey been fun. Across continents, across weight, across many friends, men and many many courses and classes, laughter and tears and mostly just silences.  I have watched friends get their Master’s degree and waltz away into the real world, I have watched yet other friends, get beaten by the real world and come back to the sheltered arms of graduate school. Today someone’s imminent departure has been brought home to me very clearly and it is making me very sad.

But, I myself, after 5 years, stand on the uncertain edge again. ABD (all but dissertation to you non academic people), almost done with graduate school, no clue what will happen, what time will bring, what paths life will take and what I would finally end up doing and who would i do it with. For now, its just me, slightly knit wit someone else, who is slowly unthreading himself from my life, planning to depart.  5 years ago, the choices were not very clear, now, the choices are still not clear. I know what I need to do, I know not if it will have the desired consequences.

I know not, what I want, I do know however, that life as a student is coming to a close. Finally I say, you in the real world, probably smile with irony.   I have always envied people who have a clear purpose in life, who know wha they want and head straight for it. I never had that certainity, the hardest question for me in any interview is where do you see yourself in 5 years. In 5 years, anything can happen, so much can change and really I dont see myself anywhere in 5 years. With a good job, yes, where I am satisfied and doing good work, yes. Maybe with someone who loves me in the same way I love him. Just dont ask which country I see this happening in. It could be anywhere. I wouldnt mind.

Ah decisions decisions…choices and more choices. Somebody please decide for me, will ya?

 I have a major shoe obsession! Those who know me probably already know that about me. If you are ever in a store with me and lose me, best way to find me is to find the shoe section…follow line of drool and voila there I would be. You would assume then that I spend a lot of money on shoes and have a billion pairs, but not really, no I don’t. That is only because of two things. One is that its hard to find very sexy shoes in my size and two I refuse to wear uncomfortable shoes. The uncomfortable thing comes into play very often considering I have weird feet. But not wearing them is from ages ago and a wedding. I was in Mumbai and had the cutest pair of shoes..they were brownish reddish and also had  heel and were also very tight. I must have been about 10 or 12 years old I think. The shoes were so tight, they had to be worn with a plastic wrap over foot so that I could slide into them..yet I loved these shoes. Unfortunately, I was in Bombay with mama..who likes to walk..and I wore these shoes out with him to buy books. It was a long long walk including several locals. I reached a point where my feet hurt so much that I ALMOST sat down and cried. I never had the guts to do that again. Therefore comfortable shoes it is. But I like sexy shoes tooo..comfortable and sexy..almost an oxymoron! Hence I am usually drooling and rejecting!

The question is why do I like shoes so much.. I have given this deep thought…I think it is because shoes make or break an outfit…the perfect shoes pull it together effectively. And more deeply I tink it is because it is one body part that I cannot change and have to accept the way it is. It is a part of me that hasnt changed much and is unlikely to change over the course of time. I am still wearing the same shoes I was 40 pounds ago. It is a part of me that I have to accept, I can whinge all I want about the shape of my foot..wide in front and narrow at the back and super small, but I cannot pinch the wide part and say this has to go. I have to respect what years of dance have made my foot. I cannot jiggle it or frown at it in the bath and say yuck (not that i say that for any body part), having to accept it the way it is, means I look more for things that fit it and dont really watch sizes..ohh this shoe is a 6 and it fits me instead of the 5 1/2, and oooh this is comfy..who cares if it is meant for 12 year olds? 

Why can’t I be like that about clothes…umm this jeans is tight..but I’d be damned if I go a size up. I completely refuse to buy jeans in India..sizes dont make any sense at all. The more acceptance we have of our body and the way it looks,however transient or permanent that look might be, once we are confident in our skin (its the only one we got), only then can we truly begin the work of changing it or loving it. Now-a-days, I dont buy shoes that need plastic wrap, I buy the ones that fit and feel like I can walk a mile (or atleast till the first shoe bite shows up). I look at my feet with pride, they have supported me through thick, through dancing, running and definately through the plastic episode and I treat them with the care they deserve. Wish I could say the same about the body.

All winter I have watched this pilsbury commercial “home is calling”. Every single time, it leaves me with a lump in my throat and a curious yearning in the pit of my stomach.  The ad just makes me want. Want to click my heels together and fly off home. Makes me want to smell certain smells, see certain things are truly home and can only happen in India. The strong smell of flowers and fruits combined with that of the exhaust fumes. The dust rising to meet the first raindrops of the year.

Mom making chapattis, the very distinct “chaan” sound of the metal spoon against the kadai. The sound of the sabziwala saying something indistinct, but that tells you he is here. Same for the doodhwala and his cycle horn. The doodhwala at home now has a bike, I wish he’d kept the horn, it has memories.  The taste of plain daal chawal with ghee, fresh hari chatni, mangoes in Watkhed, smal desi ones, their juice, sticky and running off my face and hands..more mangoes, desi ber and oranges..santare, their heavenly taste, eaten, basking in the pale winter sun atop razai left to air out.  The sound of an india pakistan cricket match, where you know that even if you close your eyes, and not watch anymore the sounds from the neighbourhood will tell you exactly what happened.  To tell the truth, I miss malai (cream) every single day of my life here. Its also probably the reason why i successfully lost weight but still wo doodh hi kya jispe malai na ho! 

Some things I know I can never see with the same eyes again. I have been too far away from it now. But sometimes when I go home I find there is no home. Things that I remember no longer exist. Other, more american “progressive” things have taken their place. Who am I to judge that, I live in amrika, I cannot talk about americanization. Because I know that if or when I leave the US, certain things, certain smells and memories will me want to click my heels and fly away home…my other home, Kansas.

Did Dororthy want that too? Did she miss the lad of Oz when she went back to Kansas? Did she want to fly back there and visit her friends? See if any witches have cropped up …just basically say hello? The place where she grew up and learnt so much, did she want to click her heels and go back there again? To the land of magic? Because after some time, the line begins to blur, the line between what was home and what is home. India one day may be as alien to me as US was. The US will always be alien to me in some ways and truly now so will India. So does the Ad make me tearful not just because am being usual senti self or because there is no home? Too many or too few loyalties. Too much distance, maybe too much growing up..sometimes I wish I could click my heels and let them decide where to take me, and I know whereever they do, I’ll open my eyes and want it to be the other one.

Dont get me wrong, I lorve my friends. They are very important to me. Especially living so far away from family, I dont know how I would survive without the glue of friendship to hold me together.

Wat I do have a problem with, though, is mixed signals. This is specially relevant in the case of Indians.  They are friends with someone and they also feel they can be something more. Yet they hide under this banner of friendship. I understand perfectly if you fall for a friend. That has been known to happen. I dont like the whole idea of becoming friends for the express purpose of dating someone and then never admitting to it untill its too late. Or admitting it only to completely startle someone who realy didnt think you as more than a friend. And then make a complete mess of things by either party not understanding what is going on. So to my mind then there is always this suspicion..are we friends? are we something more? Ofcourse, there is the added pipqauncy of starting off wanting more and then backing off because I growl too much and saying but we are just friends.

Just friends, thats another one. Pretending to be friends for the public when you clearly are something more. Walking around together with hands in each others’ pockets..and then saying..oh we are just friends. If you care for someone be (wo)man enough to say it out loud, dont demean your relationship by hiding it. I understand that you may not want to say anything at all, thats ok, dont say anything. Just don’t be friends.

Here’s my request…like someone? tell them. Dont like someone who likes you…hold out the olive branch of friendship only if you will stick to it, not let it go in the middle of the process. Seeing someone? say it out loud or keep your mouth shut. Dont call it friendship. and definately never never say…kya aap mujhse dosti karengi? because that my friend is the ultimate mixed signal!

disclaimer: nothing has happened to me to generate this post. It comes from my rambling mind. And no I did not watch “kya aap mujh se dosti karengi” and i refuse to..no no no.

Here’s another year on my rather directionless blog. If you are still around to hear my ramblings…thanku hai jee! A recap of the year past. I had a great one! In retrospect it was awesome! Lets see what happened eh? I got rid of the people who were totally bringing me down and making me feel like something gross we do every morning. Trying to limit the use of expeltives here..ohh that is something we expel .  So I got rid of them. A relationship roller coaster was embarked upon..tons of highs, too many lows to count, the lows more than highs, a sad goodbye was bid to someone who was and will remain the biggest puzzle of my life.

Also encountered were some work related milestones (yes phd is work and I dare you to suggest otherwise). I finished the masters, presented at one SIOP and got into another one.

So a good year overall, an emotional year, a stressful year, as can be seen from the battlescars in the form of pimples, that I never had as a teen (hai mein jawan ab ho rahi hu?). A good year nevertheless.

As for 2009, some new beginnings (grins secretively), some ends..2009 is the year of the PhD, I will conquer thy high and slippery slopes. I also started AGAIN! to track food on my other blog.. somewhat hungry. The link people is somewaht single, Im just trying to be green and resuse an old blog I started and never finished. I hope to post every day (new way to avoid work..yay!), so you may see me and my cooking there more frquently! Anoter promise for 2009 would be to blog every week! We’ll, ahem, see how that goes

That people, if you didnt notice, was my lousy attempt at new year resolutions. These are not resolutions, these are goals to be reached or to be ticked off a list, so will be maintained, unless ofcourse I decide not to..such is liff!

What resultions/goals do you have? Anything fun I should know about before you invite me for dinner? Like eating only fried things every sunday? or maybe frowning at people who laugh too loudly? Or anything else really? I just like to know!!