The Dunwich Horror

I am a writer

As far as I can remember, I always wanted to be a writer. What lacks in talent, can be made up (to a certain extent) by hard work. I think I gave up trying . I have made a timeline of significant events which shaped my belief that I could be a successful scribe -just to remind myself what I once wished to be. If a certain desire still lives in your heart, and you wish to set fire to it, do it today. Because every day we walk towards our demise, and we are left with even less time to try our best at what we were born to become.


The rest of the post is more of personal significance:

Mad Men

I was catching up with a few episodes of Mad Men on Netflix, when SG remarked,'Why is everyone sleeping with someone else in this show?' I failed to convince him there were other elements too- the narrative, the character sketches. I thought to myself: Maybe people were like that in the 1960s. Promiscuous, borderline alcoholics, who smoked like there was no tomorrow. I am no prude but there were certain instances when the 'act' wasn't justified or even necessary.

The protagonist Don Draper is a self-made man, starting from oblivion and reaching an irreplaceable position as the Creative Director in Sterling Cooper and later as a founding Partner at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce. Most of the times, he is a confident man who can think on his feet and make the clients eat out of his hand. But his vulnerability is real when he gets competitive with a talented  and unorthodox copywriter Michael Ginsberg.

He is sort of a phony sometimes when he insists on honesty and loyalty from his subordinates, but has no qualms about crossing the lines too many times. There is always a reason: he is not happy enough with what he has. My advice to Don Draper: Stop sleeping around. If you can't find happiness in what you have, you can never find it by chasing other things. Or else it is like a bucket with a leak- the happiness will just flow through, you won't be able to contain it.

TV doesn't dictate the moral code of the society but it should have some responsibility about how it projects an idea/philosophy. (This is why I never watch Indian saas-bahu sagas) An episode is hardly ever viewed for it out-of-context love-making scenes- they have sites for that. I have watched all the seasons of Mad Men so far, and I think I will remember it mostly for the jingles, taglines and presentations at the office, songs at the end of each episode, and the taste of the glamorous 60s in Madison Avenue when everybody made an effort to look good- soigné but confused crowd.

More on my favorite characters from the  show later.

Change

I was having a conversation with my father when I mentioned my impression about a certain person. I knew him years ago, and I always saw him as a loser who stalked me. I opined ,'Even if he becomes Bill Gates, he'll still be that loser for me. I just can't get rid of that image from my mind.'

'People change' he suggested. I agreed,' Of course, they do. I did.  SG did. But I believe that people have certain core values. A dishonest person will always be dishonest. A liar will always be a victim of habit.'

Dad said that only people with low IQ can't change. Criminology theories indicate that criminals seldom change their modus operandi. By critical reasoning, you might have already arrived at what I am going to say- people take up crime only when they have failed at everything else.

Now, modus operandi  acts as an identifier of the perpetrator because certain features will be unique. Criminals seldom evolve (thank God for that- an intelligence criminal, say like a real-life Professor Moriarty would be a menace to the society. And we all know-we don't need any more twisted minds in this world.)
A cat burglar who jumps the fence, gets in through the window, steals jewels and sells them in the flea market will always do that. Dad says, in his experience, those thieves will never take a stack of cash even if it's lying right there. And if someone has to- they literally sh*t in their pants. I thought of all those videos featuring 'World's dumbest criminals', and realized  it wasn't so rare then.

I also reasoned: I'm not stupid (as far as grades or deadlines go). Then if I want to change something about my life or behavior - should it be impossible? Do I need to sh*t in my pants in fear of it? No.

And I'm not going to feel sorry for myself for the rest of my life for not having tried enough. That is for losers. I may lack a lot of things, but I have never found myself not achieving something I have put my heart to. A sense of personal failure can arise only when I have not tried enough. If I have done my best, there is nothing left to do except wait for certain circumstances to change. If I have not- I have no right to waste time in brooding over things instead of doing something.

Here's to change. And may we all be the change we want in our lives.

The cynical girl

My old friends often coax- 'write something on your blog, we want to read'. Lately, I have been a little upset about some things. Maybe it is a sign of age that I don't always see things with those rose-colored glasses anymore. There is outrage and there is disbelief. But I'm not much of an ambusher with words (unless extremely provoked). I prefer the silent treatment. I know that I should express my feelings somehow instead of bottling them down. Hence, these cartoons. I have to caution you I have never done this before. Here are some eyesores I created :

It will leave a pot of honey for a dead fish

Caught in the contraption of the system

The musings of an ex-pat on bereavement

We always think we have enough time. We are wrong.

I lost two very dear people in the short span of two years- my paternal grandma (thakuma) and my maternal aunt (mashi). I envy those people who saw them in their deaths and have some sort of closure, because I still think of them and believe that when I visit home next time I will see them, and they will greet me with the deluge of kisses and hugs and genuine queries after my well-being.

'Home'. It means so different now. It isn't the place I was born in, not even the country. It is a place I always wanted to be in. And living here has its price. But unlike some who choose to regret living away from their families, I choose to make reasons to be where I am. There are beautiful people everywhere in this world. We just have to find them.

I was really sad on Saturday  morning when I received the news of mashi's cerebral stroke. But I had guests coming for dinner. JD and CD's visit was long due. JD brought us black forest (Schwarzwälder) cupcakes. The conversation kept my mind occupied, though I found myself wandering back to my childhood. They praised my cooking lavishly, and I felt they were being kind.

The following day MD arranged a picnic for us. Three families got together at Vasona Lake for a wonderful afternoon together. SG learned Fishing 101 from DR (a more elaborate post on this when we go out for fishing next time). MD and her 5-year old daughter had both hugged me when they saw me - I never felt I needed it more in my life.

I walked with the kid as she rode her bicycle by the lake. I tried to see things from her perspective as she asked about the cottony pulps floating in the air. I explained those were from the water reeds and it was a method of seed dispersal for the plants using the wind as a vector. I saw colorful bugs,  ducks and geese, and people in their sail boats, paddle boats and paddle boarding on surfboards. The cool breeze from the lake and the sunshine on my back felt so nice, I wondered why we didn't do it more often.  We played poker after lunch using two other deck of cards as currency. It was fun.  But I was still very distracted, I folded my cards even when I had a flush and bet heavily because I was curious to find a bluff. There was none.

Back home, I was tired but I still managed to make some vegetable pulao for dinner- like the kind I had taken to the picnic. It was different because I skipped a few ingredients including the ginger and rosewater, but it tasted good. Life is like that- things are never the same- but you find a way.

Today is Bengali New Year, and we invited SG's brother and sis-in-law for dinner. A family get-together will be nice. They have a 2-year old son whom I absolutely adore.

Everytime I lose someone dear, I think of the names they called me endearingly. Memories come flooding back. The little things become so precious. I know in my heart- no one can replicate the feeling I had- the warmth of their hugs, the way they told stories. But life has to go on, and we always have to find someone to love.

FOPAL

Last year, I went to Palo Alto Library on a book sale upon a friend's recommendation. One of the volunteers chatted with me and opined, 'You have a very sweet way about you- maybe you should become a volunteer.' I took her advice and signed up a volunteer form of FOPAL (Friends of the Palo Alto Library ). I had almost forgotten about it until I received an email from Janette about volunteering opportunities this month. Sunday, March 10th 1:30 pm- 4 pm seemed like a convenient slot for me.

Janette explained my duties as a cashier in the Main Room. A cash box was provided and I had to write receipts. We had to add the book amounts aloud so the customer could hear us. Then we had to write the total amount due on the receipt indicating what was sold (books, CDs etc.) with the date and our initials. I was soon through a receipt book, and it made me very happy to see the cash box full when we closed at 4 pm. Janette said she would definitely like to have me back again. Another volunteer joked that all the buyers flocked to the pretty girl. Actually, my seat was more accessible on the way out.

Greg, sitting next to me, is an artist and he mentioned that the San Jose Museum of Arts (on Market St)  had Monet on display a couple of days ago and is currently housing a collection by a very talented artist. I made a mental note to visit it again when I could manage some free time.

There were many interesting people who bought books- there was a man who said he was going to ship his purchases to libraries in Asia. Another man bought an old postcard because it had a stamp on it which he hadn't seen before. A lady identified one of the picture frames by Arthur Court. A lot of people donated change towards the end for the fundraiser.

SG picked 3 bags full of books- and he didn't even visit the Bargain Room. (There it was $5 a bag!) Greg said I could take a break if I wanted to, but I didn't feel too tired though I had slept only 4 hours the previous night. The Daylight Saving Time began today- and it was Greg's least favorite day of the year. I can understand why.

But I was happy to be amidst books; crunching numbers isn't bad when you get to touch magazines, monographs, graphic  novels, comic books,  paperbacks, and hardcovers of all kinds. If I had the time, I would have loved to read all the hand -written messages on the used books, some of which even had the author's signature on them.

The book sale event at the Cubberley Community Center raises approximately $200,000 for the libraries each year. ( About 270,000 new readers ) A senior volunteer mentioned that the Main Room and Bargain Room had about 20,000 books each at a given time. If you want to help, visit their site to volunteer, donate, buy books or you can look for similar opportunities in your local libraries.