Why I am like a woman who has been married for a hundred years EXPLAINED!

Welcome back to question time! It's time for me now to take part two of the questions (and don't worry, I'm not going to stretch this out forever, this will be a three part post. Part one here.) Anyhoo, has been a pretty slow week. I spent most of it watching Scrubs, my new obsession.

Did one garage sale (see photo) which went swimmingly, as in, I sold most of my clothes and luckily, the ones I didn't sell were the ones I decided to keep in the end anyway*. Happy ending. Also bought one white, long, racer back summer dress, two pairs of shorts, one long black stretchy tunic, one black shirt with cut-out embroidery and one CD collection that I used to have somewhere in Delhi but can no longer find. Plus, made a profit, but THEN my car got towed and I spent most of it getting it back. Oh well.

(*including the colourful halter top you can see in the picture)

On to the questions! Lalalala.

First! From Pesto Sauce, who asks, "Tell me when is your second book coming out?"

Heh. Something both you and I want to know, my friend. Here's the good news. The book is happening, slowly but surely. I have approximately 15,000 words done (and I'm aiming for a 100,000) the characters are shaping themselves well and I have a good idea of where the story is going. The bad news is that discipline comes and goes, and there are some days where I do no work at all. But, rest assured, the first draft should be done by my birthday (which is mid-December) and after that, inshallah, we shall figure out the rest.

Second, from Jo (who hasn't enabled profile views so no link, sadly), who asks, "So tell me your difference in passion about blogging over 5 years?"

Good question, Jo. Goo-hoo-d question. I think I've mentioned this before, but being a freelance is pretty much living in your head all the time. Which means some of your dear-diary thoughts get verbalised during the day, even if you're just talking to your cat. Which means sometimes a blog is extraneous. OR, if you're struggling with three deadlines that you've put off till the last minute it means that the last thing you want to do in your free time is write some more. The passion? Has somewhat waned. We are like an old married couple now, me and my blog, and sometimes we have great sex, and sometimes, well, just a kiss on the forehead suffices.

And, almost a follow up question, from Touche, "Your frequency of writing would have windled from day zero to present...but still there is something which makes you go on and on. What drives you to do that?"

I guess, to continue with my old married people metaphor, because at the end of the day I come back to something I love. And blogging combines two things I dearly like doing--talking about myself and writing. It's win-win! (Yes, I'm a narcissist. Yes, most writers are, if you scratch the surface. Yes, this is also the reason I would never date another writer.) I like blogging because it keeps me connected, I can ramble on about various things in my life and because, well, it's sort of fun, no?

Another Kiran In NYC asks, "have you ever regifted a gift?"

Y'know, mostly not. Presents have a sort of sentimental value for me, I like all presents, even if I barely know the person that gave them to me, so I keep LOADS of things I have no use for. What I do do (hehehe.. doodoo. I am a five year old today) is buy something for myself and regift that. So like a book I got for a journey, or a top that doesn't fit, things like that. But those are only courtesy gifts, given when I'm going somewhere where I don't really know the host, but it's polite to take something anyway---like a friend of a friend's thing or something. And everything is new, it's not second hand stuff, so don't be scared if I give you a present!

I think that's it for today, check back again for part three, coming up soon!

I begin all angry and rant-y but then I walk the talk

Soooooo tonight I'm straight shooting from the hip, also in not a very good mood. I should be in an excellent mood--nice wine drunk (we named him Max), nice company--but then this ASSHOLE shows up, tagger on with friends and then proceeds to mouth off about all sorts of nonsense. To which I'm like okay, everyone deserves their own opinion. Then he recognises my name (wheee! sorry, it still pleases me) and then he's like (imagine this next bit all drunk and slurry) " I thought your book was shit." To which I'm still like, eh, can't please everyone. THEN in total overstepping of personal boundaries, he says, "Oh. you're not as sexy as I thought you would be." And then I think I spent the rest of the night trying not to cry from fury. Not that I care so much that he didn't think I was sexy--I'm a very your opinion is your opinion and mine is mine and live and let live etc and plus, I wasn't feeling very sexy anyway, and it's kinda a compliment to think your writing is sexier than you are. It was just the way he said it, this entitlement he felt he had, all BECAUSE I AM A MAN AND BECAUSE I AM THREATENED BY YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE YOUNGER AND A WOMAN and it was very not nice. Then later he weaves over and--I shit you not--pats me on the head and he's lucky he didn't lose his fingers, coz I would have bitten those mothers off. It was like seeing my Internet Troll with a face. Aargh. Depending on whose side you're on, you'll be happy/sad to know I didn't engage with him, but let him sit there, stewing in his own juices, just thankful I didn't know him in real life, and thankful I was me and not anyone else.

But you guys were nice and tonight, in post-Max stupor (we decided since wine had so much character we might as well name the bottle. It was a lovely Pinot Noir. Yeah, I watched Sideways too.) I'm going to answer questions one through five. (Don't worry, I will answer them all, just not in the same post.)

Question One asked by Rajvi: "how did you meet the love of your life?"

Well, the way you phrased it sort of threw me for a loop there. Where I can tell you, where is easy--we were both at a party, I was lonesoming by myself in a corner, batting away the stray boys who aimed towards me, asked me what I did and then turned it into a conversation about themselves, but this one, a bonafide cutie, all Jesus looking (but hotter) actually started talking to me about writing, how his favourite writers were Terry Pratchett and Oscar Wilde and before I knew it, my eyelashes were batting up at him and he was asking for my phone number and everything is awesome. (Except for the long distance, but then, no one likes long distance.)

How on the other hand, would require me to backtrack a little, go through my love life of the last four years, tell you how nothing really seemed to work for me. When I met JC, I was a little low, cynical as all hell, convinced that no one would really ever want to be with me and he treated me like I was special and perfect and now, almost two years later, you guys, I feel special and perfect. I feel cared for, I feel loved. And I am able to once again be the girlfriend I was at 20, giggly and playful, nurturing and considerate, knowing that I have his back and he has mine and we are a team, a TEAM, the two of us. It's brilliant. I recommend it highly; love.

Question two from Thresia: I like green eggs and ham. Do you want some green eggs and ham?

I'm not sure. I might be hungry, but, BUT, I have this new awesome cook and I've been eating most of my meals at home, which is a major achievement for me (not to mention much better for my figure) but I do like ham. Eggs, meh, not so much.

Question three from Yachna: So, do you miss delhi...how did life change from delhi to mumbai ?

I miss Delhi intensely right now. Winter is my most favourite season, and I love feeling the first nip in the air, the first night without the fan on, the first smell of mothball-y clothes, the smell of woodsmoke in the air, hot coffee and a cigarette. Things I love and I rarely experience anymore.

On the other hand, at 2.30 this morning, I lurched into a nearby auto rickshaw and made my way home alone. Good? Good.

I am more confident in Bombay, a Bombayite as much as I am a Dilliwaali. I know the streets of my neighbourhood, I wear a dress to casual Tuesday dinners, I can say "boss" with the best of them, and yet, I miss some things. I'm homesick for one city when I'm in another. I'm a nomad these days, based somewhere, heart somewhere else. Bombay turned my world around, but Delhi was where I learnt what a world was, so I'm really here and there.

Question four from Glox: What's your current FB status?

Ooh, easy question (good thing, considering it's nearly 4 am). Mine is inspired from the song Sweet Dreams (and on days when I'm lazy, my current status is just a song I've been humming) so it's eM travelled the world and the seven seas, everybody's looking for something.

And, inevitably, when you post a lyric as a status, one or more people will complete it for you, and they did.

And my last question for tonight from Lucie: what have you learnt in those 5 years? How much do you think one grows up in that time?

Oh boy. This is going to take some effort. Right.

Five years of blogging has been beyond wild. I went from random internet chick to not-so-random internet chick, which is pretty cool, considering I was only aiming for a higher random anyway. I received both bouquets and brickbats. I had some great validation for my writing from total strangers and I learnt how to tell the truth. (This is an important skill.)

But, mostly, I suppose, my blog has given me a certain amount of confidence. An internet persona is a wierd sort of thing to have as all my readers who blog will know. You're different when you have a keyboard, wiser, less prone to mistakes but also the editor of your own biography. THIS, in short, is my LIFE. I can see what's been going on for me, year to year, what I've been sad about, what I've been pissed about, even, sometimes, days when I've been drunk. I can see the graph of my life, the way it curves, the ups and the downs, and while it's an odd sort of feeling, having all that information out there, it's also poignant. My very first sentence on the internet, for instance, the one that goes: "First off, this was not what I was supposed to do. I am technically supposed to be working, but it's one of those days when all my work finished early and here I sit at 6 pm, trying desperately to look like I'm working... I'm a journalist, so typing is a good thing!" I look at it and I think, oh my, I used to have to justify what I did with my day, I used to want to please someone, anyone. And I also think awww, look how sweet I was! (Also, I seem to have eleven comments on that first post, to which I'm all WTF? I know I didn't have eleven comments when I began!)

I'm not making much sense anymore and I suppose I should go to bed. But, to answer the second half of the question, I think it's possible to grow up more in five years than your entire lifetime. I think Original eM, if told about Present eM's lifestyle and what the future held for her, would probably laugh and tell you that wasn't possible. 22 to 27. Just out of college to OMG I WROTE A BOOK AND PEOPLE HAVE READ IT! Jesus. Do you believe it? Is this just a dream? Am I there yet?

IMPORTANT UPDATE EDIT: A bunch of us are getting together and having a gigantic garage sale tomorrow (Sunday, Oct. 25) at Zenzi, Bandra from 1 pm to 5 pm. There will be cheap awesome things (clothes, books, accessories, shoes etc), and you should come. (All the brainchild of this brilliant blogger.) I'd come early, if I were you and bring change and shopping bags. Eeeeeeeeeeeee! So excited!

We’re so very retro in here

I am sooooooooooo tired and the internet is soooooooooo slow today that I am very tempted to abandon all attempts at blogging and just go to bed. But, but, you know I love you and I needed to blog a little today, to feel a little love at my very own social media thing, to feel like I was reaching out and talking to an audience that was talking back and have the good times—party like it’s 1999!—all over again.

But how do people sustain a blog for so long? Coz that has me beat. Five years, FIVE YEARS and I’ve all done grown up now, y’all. Do you remember me when I began, wet behind the years, discovering the thrill of shouting out words to an invisible audience? Do you remember my naiveté, my little hopes and dreams, the way I talked about everything and then do you remember when the tide turned and I turned and everything changed and I couldn’t anymore?

Well, I’m bringing that back. FUCK people knowing my name, I give not the tiniest damn. I want to talk about what I want to talk about, for instance, today I want to tell you how much I miss my boyfriend’s earlobes, he has the sweetest ears, all small and set flat against his head, not horrid and stick out-y and they are sweet even if you nibble them. It’s weird to miss someone’s ears of all things, but I suppose I’m going bit by bit.

And almost in the same vein of confession, I need to say that I have not, in fact, had a bath today, internet. I have been so tired and so grumpy and so hungover that I forgot all about bathing and will, in all likelihood, go to bed exactly as I am. (OOOOOOH!)

I had two rad Diwali parties this weekend, one was my own, in which there were, possibly, more foreign people than Indian ones, but we played teen patti and then segued into Charades and it went on till 3 am AND we had a noise complaint despite the music being way low, so you know it was a success.

And on Saturday, Diwali, my lovely friend, Gia and I went for another party dressed in saris, looking beauteous. Gia is not Indian, but, BUT, she was the one who got me into my sari and it stayed on and relatively neat all evening, so all props to her (see picture for how good it looked on her). It was a good party. I found myself in my usual position, crosslegged in front of the speakers, iPod in hand and soon we had a real Bollywood dance party going on and I was very proud. If I was a DJ, I’d totally be called DJ Dhinchak.

And in honour of bringing bits of the old Confessor into the new, I’m introducing an idea I got from Schmutzie—where she asks her readers to ask her a question, any old question about any old thing and she answers. She said it much better than I am: “For a couple of reasons, I always like weblog entries like this: the weblog's author ends up writing about things that all us readers want to know, it is fascinating to see what the commenters want to know about, and it reveals an ongoing conversation between author and readers that reminds me of the community aspect of blogging that I love so much.”

Anyhoo, so ask me whatever’s topmost on your mind and I’ll turn those questions into the next post!

Linkslutting around town

* Ahoy there, readers in Kerala! I am going to be in your state! Actually, am going for the Kovalam Lit Fest again this year, this time as a tag-along and not an invitee. The plan was that I'd spend the three days just chilling at the Taj, something I didn't get a chance to do last year. But then my brain went into overload and not only did I offer to do a piece on the festival, I also called my publishers and asked if they would organise a book reading for me in Trivandrum. So, they did, and I am, and if you're in that city, please come on over and say hi! It's on the 9th of October at 5.30 pm at DC Books, 1st Floor, Karimpanal Statue Avenue, Statue Junction, Trivandrum. And it should be fun, promise. I'll only read for a little bit and we can chat for the rest of the time.


* Thank you all for coming through and commenting on the last post. I felt all loved again.

* The love of my life this week are lace up Doc Marten style, knee high boots. They're SO beautiful, even though they pinch my toes a weeny bit, what is pain when compared to style, right? (Okay, maybe a bit more than a weeny bit, but suck it up, toes! This'll make you stronger.) I got the idea of getting boots from this BRILLIANT new blog I have discovered (by 'discovered', I mean 'told about'). And she's like my shopping soul sister, practically, so I emailed her and we're going to meet soon! (In a non-stalker way, of course.) I tried to break in my new boots on a walk around town we did this Sunday, and the first hour went fine but by the end of it I was practically curled up in a ball and moaning. That's the tough part about boots, the breaking them in. I'm trying to wear them every day so by the end of it, they'll be all soft and comfortable.

* Oh yes, I remember now what else I promised to talk about. There's this Red Bull event that I'm going for, to watch a Formula One racer go up and down the Bandra-Worli sealink (Which, by the way? Is one of my top five most favourite bridges in the world.) Now, that's not usually my sort of thing, but I thought it might be fun to watch, so if there are any F1 fans amongst you, you should check it out too. It's on October 11, at 2 pm, and the driver's name is David Coulthard (and he's cute too). Here's a link to the website for more deets--but you should come and say hi and we can watch the car together.