Smell.o.licious

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I miss the smell of books. Seriously.

Ever since I moved to the West Coast, a day hasn't passed when I haven't thought about NYPL
It was my Mecca. My sanctum. And all those wonderful feelings I got when I had a stack of them.
Wonder why NYPL cant open like an ex-New Yorkers branch. *Sigh*

No seriously, f*** kindle. It isn't cutting it man. I tried reading through it on the bus to work. It either gives me a headache or just makes me want to nap rather.

In fact one of the prime reasons that I am so against moving and relocating is having to leave behind a long trail of books. Boo hoo.

Recently, I have been whining a lot. A hell lot. And then today I got nostalgic for some odd reason. I saw someone (for a change) reading hardcover fiction and it took me back to the time when I used to walk to the humble library, couple of blocks from my home. I owned exactly 2 pieces of shirt and one light green skirt. And you know how I felt then? Like the luckiest girl in the whole damn world. Lucky because I got this whole freaking library and I wanted to live there. And read them all up. Not once was I embarrassed about wearing the same skirt over and over again.

Obviously, my dad was very taken aback by this attitude. I would beg, plead, cry, threaten, wallow...so long as my dad paid my library membership fee. I never once asked him to get me some clothes instead. That really bothered him. LOL.

I used to watch the kind of people coming in and out of the library.

The socialites would choose all the glamor and celebrity magazines.
Girls at call centers would come by for Mills & Boon
Teenagers would gawk at Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys and Sidney Sheldon.
The thriller fans head toward Agatha Christie.
And the more sensible (like me;) would read classics =)

But I tried every one of them. Books were my sanctum sanctorum. My whole world revolved around them.

Wait. I remember this one book. It was a "holy shit this is huge" sort of book. I can't seem to remember its name. It was filled with how stuff works. What the hell was it? I cant remember it now. I was so fascinated. I lugged the giant thing home and spread it on the floor and read it.

I still remember my library card number. And yes, the library still exists. And my card is still there, as of  last November=)

I left my heart in San Francisco

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Hi there you. Yes, you. Whoever you are. Welcome.

No, I am not generous with courtesies. Once in a while, I feel like giving. Giving back I mean. In my own wicked ways. But yes, I am happy to say I have had a break..of sorts. Lets not go there. Meanwhile I found a number of interesting things this week on visiting San Francisco. Some hippie told me that San Francisco actually means the land of black lesbians. Ok, lets not go there. Also, if you are PMSing you can get a prescription to buy weed. Ok, lets not go there either. Wait, what did you say? Your kids read this blog? Oh well they are probably reading "classier" stuff anyway. Internet is everyone's dear friend.

So yes. This break has been good. I have seen breads transform to lobsters and crocodiles.

I have had a 10 year old kid bow down to me at the Golden Gate Bridge and wish me a good rest of the day. (How cool is that, no? I have never had a kid, forget adult, bow down to me and wish me a good day like that....). No, picture not included. It was "in the moment" fellas. In the moment.

Also I saw the cafe where Francis Ford Coppola hangs out. Ok, ok, I didn't see him. But that's where he hangs out ok? Jeez. If you are asking who the heck is he, dont worry. He is probably a wrinkly old guy you dont really have to know about. Or well, just google damn it.

Also I saw random heart figurines here and there....and figured some silently sing "I left my heart in San Francisco". So teary-eyed I was. Until I saw this heart. Nothing shaped like a heart. It is cold, black and stone - yes, my Wall St. friends. That is a Banker's Heart, I am told.



*Pic courtesy - Wikipedia. Yes, I am all about giving Internet, its due.


Then I saw some sleeping figure on top of a building. I don't know what that was about. I don't really care. And I dont have a picture, I cant find it. So lets move on now.

Also there is a church. Yes, I am coming to the interesting part. Yes, I know you would have guessed it is either St. Paul or St. Peter. But it's address, my dear genius friend, is 666 Filbert St. A-ha!

Ok, so what if I didn't visit the Alcatraz. So what if I didn't visit the Golden Gate Park (Actually, I have had enough of parks. Once you have seen Central Park, you have seen it all). So what if I couldn't make it to the Exploratorium. You save the best for later. (No, I don't believe in that. Just saying.)

Poke the Box: When was the last time you did something for the first time?

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I am sucker for Seth Godin's books and essays.
Poke the Box is his recent manifesto about starting.
I know I know. I am not going to listen to you, lol.

I just love reading and re-reading his books for the insightful stories he shares and how short and pithy he keeps it. But mind you, if you are looking for a how-to book, this isn't for you. There are other books of his, that do a better job at that. This is sort of like a poster, you can stare at and ruminate about what you are going to start..now.

In his own words:

Starting a project, making a ruckus, taking what feels like a risk.


Not just, "I'm starting to think about it" or "we're going to meet on this", or even "I filed a patent application..."


No, starting.


Going beyond the point of no return.


Leaping.


Committing.


Making something happen.

The job isn't to catch up to the status quo. The job is to invent the status quo.

War of the Word

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You know how you get into that REM kind of deep sleep. You are floating somewhere, amongst mountains and beautiful valleys, air bubbles and flowers and lots of food (in my case, haha)..only to be interrupted by a freaking phone call x-(

So this is how my REM was disturbed last night.

Phone rings


Me: Hmm..
Voice on the phone: Where is the fcuking print?
Me: Whaa???
Voice on the phone: I cant find it. Where is Print and Print Preview?
Me: Print Preview? What? Who's this? Someone from office?
Voice on the phone: This is God. Now where the fcuk is print?
Me: Dad!!!!!! WTF?
Dad: Yes, good morning. I got my computer fixed today at the store. The guy formatted the whole damn thing and put Microsoft Word 2007. I can't find print preview, I don't see the usual buttons. That arrogant SOB changed everything.
Me: Who? The store guy? But that is the new Word dad...Word 2007 interface is different.  And it is not the store guy's fault.
Dad: I am talking about Bill Gates
Me: He doesn't work for Microsoft anymore. He runs charities and Malaria awareness and...
Dad: SOB. Did I wake you up?
Me: (Sarcastically) Oh no, I was doing laundry.
Dad: Don't get sarcastic with me. What do they teach you at work these days? To get sarcastic with your own parents?
Me: I didn't know they "teach" at work. And it is not Bill Gates' fault.
Dad: First I lose my files. Then I don't find a print preview. And then I have to deal with your chatter.
Me: Stop PMSing ok? I know where to find the print preview. And I am not saying a word until you apologize to me.

Crickets chirping


Dad: OK
Me: Ok what?
Dad: Apologized
Me: From when did OK replace a Sorry?
Dad: Fine
Me: I am looking for S-O-R-R-Y
Dad: I know how it spells. You just spelt Sorry
Me: Ok
Dad: And I just told the word
Me: Fineeeeeee. Click on that Windows logo on the top..extreme left
Dad: You kidding me?
Me: No. That's where they put it all. Open, Save, Print etc..
Dad: That arrogant SOB
Me: Ya I know. They should have asked you.
Dad: What do they pay you guys for? To readjust buttons on the interface? That is what you call programming?
Me: Oh come on. I don't work for Microsoft.
Dad: Then what is it that you do? Why do you get paid so much more than me?

And then an hour long discussion continued...

Divider skirt

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The other day A and I were discussing the very controversial topic of Divider Skirts. Ahem.

The first time I had mentioned it was to my dad, at age 15. It was one of those "I need to get  new uniform because I have grown taller" moments. My dad was very bothered at the rate I was growing tall. He was bothered due to economical reasons, of course. So it was time. He had to take me to store to buy me a new uniform. That meant two sets - one green in color and another a white one. White, because, that's what we wore on Saturdays, you know, for doing all that morning drill stuff? Anyway. This time, however, it had to be a divider skirt, not the normal one. So when he took me to the local garment retailer, I said,"Umm, this time I need a divider skirt".

I heard my dad squeal, not in delight, but in disgust.

He looked straight in my eye and said, "And WTF is a divider skirt?"

How uncouth and un-gentlemanly of him.

"Divider skirt, that which divides like a trouser", I said

"So you mean long bermudas", he said

F***

He chuckled and said to the sales guy over the counter, "Some divider skirt, kathe yaaro..." (which in the local slang means - Some divider skirt, my friend)

The sales guy nodded like he knew what I was talking. He brought two or three of them. Of course, my dad asked him to stop bullshitting and get the cheapest one available but also the most durable. To which, I seemed to have told him that the most durable wasn't necessarily going to be the cheapest anyway, because of obvious macro economics laws. And he very unabashedly asked me to stop bullshitting him.

Now our very serious sales guy added an extra 20 Indian rupees to the most awesome divider skirt he fished out for us. Of course, that didn't please daddy dearest.

Dad: Woh last time,  two sau ka liye the.. (The last time I purchased it was 200 Indian rupees)

Sales guy: Woh, do saal pehle ka tha saab. Abhi rate-aa bad gaye (It was 2 years ago, the rates have increased now)

Dad: Zamaane se aarum yahan pe. Tumhaare saab aur hum ek ich school mein padthe the (I have been a long time customer here. Your owner and I went to the same school)

Sales guy: Maaloom saab, vo-ich bees daala main. Nahi tho vo assi ka padtha, divider skirt (I know, that's why I charged only 20 against 80 rupees for a divider skirt)

Dad: Ek beech ki seelaayi ke liye assi lethe? Kya zamaana aa gaya. Apne zamaane mein hum usse bermuda bola karthe the (For a sewing in between, you demand 80 rupees? In our times, we used to call such a thing as a bermuda)

Meanwhile, lots of chuckles were exchanged between men in the store

Me: This is so disgraceful. I won't take anything less than a divider skirt.

Still heard chuckles from men.

Me: But Mrs. Bhaskar Rao will not let me do drill if I don't have a divider skirt

Dad: Does she wear one?

Me: No she wears a saree

Dad: There is no divider saree?

Me: I need a divider skirt. Now.

Dad: Fine.

Looks at the sales guy and says something and finalizes it for the same rate as the original non-divider skirt

The ride back home on my dad's TVS moped was spent listening to him grumbling about the divider skirt. And if you knew my dad even remotely, this went on for some time from grumbling to humor to crass jokes on how divider skirts could actually empower women.

That night ended on a note.

Dad: Tell Mrs. Bhaskar Rao, I am getting her a divider skirt on her birthday.

Monkey business

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On days when I am overwhelmed, I set aside everything that is overwhelming me, fish a book and walk out to find a lonely spot to read. I am not sure if that is a nice way to overcome overwhelming tasks, but seems to work  for me. So for the past week I have been reading the manifesto style "The Art of Non-Conformity" by Chris Guillebeau (this dude is awesome!) If anything, this guy should pay me for I have influenced atleast a dozen New Yorkers this week on the subway, brandishing the book at their face. If you keenly observed New Yorkers they dont give a shit, really. No matter what you do. You might make sounds, fall on your face or even roam around pantless on the subway and they will not as much as raise an eyebrow at you. As if to say, "Like seriously, you thought that was the weirdest thing to do? Grow up!"

Anyway, so the point I am trying to make is - New Yorkers wont bat an eyelid until you are hooked on a book and then they want to watch the book cover to see what got you hooked so badly. Yeah. No kidding. I have many a times based my choice on dear New Yorkers book choices. Each one radically different. The joys of a subway travel.

Now if you have read this far and survived, you would ask me why the title reads "Monkey Business". That's because instead of a traditional book review I chose to quote this story from the book. I am sure you have heard this tale in one form or the other (amazing how many variants you have for a story that has a moral in the end). Definitely a good book if you want to get a shot of inspiration.




 And now, ladies and gentleman, the monkey business...

"Five monkeys are thrown in a cage by a sadistic monkey-hater. Enough food and water is available at the bottom of the cage, saving them from starvation while forcing them to lead a boring life of staring  through the glass every day. The food at the bottom is bad, but sufficient. At the top of the cage, however, a large stalk of bananas alluringly waits. Conveniently, a ladder to the top has been provided by the sadist.


After getting over the shock of being caged, one of the monkeys scales the ladder and reaches for a banana. All of a sudden a fire hose appears from nowhere. The monkey at the top of the ladder is soaked with cold water but not only him - all of the other monkeys are soaked as well, in an exercise of group punishment for the sins of one freedom-loving monkey.


Over the next few days the experience repeats itself several times. One monkey makes a run for the bananas, the whole troop of monkeys gets soaked, and pretty soon the group starts beating up the monkey brave enough to scale the ladder. The bananas are still at the top, but just out of reach. The monkeys reluctantly accept the fate of living a life without bananas.


Then one day the experiment changes...


The sadist takes one monkey out of the cage and replaces him with another one. Not knowing the consequence of being doused with the cold water, the new monkey immediately begins to scale the ladder in pursuit of a banana, the rest of the monkeys pull her down before she reaches the top, and the troop settles in again.


The next day another monkey is replaces, and then another, and the process repeats itself: the new monkey lunges for the banana, gets pulled down, and adapts. After five days, no monkey from the original troop remains, and no monkey has even been soaked with cold water - but every monkey knows they are not supposed to climb the ladder. One of the monkeys finally asks - "Hey why cant we eat the bananas?" The others shrug their shoulders and say "We're not sure - we just know we can't"

So kids, basically the moral of the story is "DO NOT SETTLE"
Always remember - It is easier to be a cynic, than a believer

Dentist, ahoy!

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There are several things that I haven’t done or experienced in my life. One of them that might not sound out of the world is a visit to a dentist. 


So when I absolutely had to go to the dentist this week, I reluctantly went. Like any other smartphone user, I looked up reviews before I took a last minute appointment. As is the norm with last minute appointments, I was given the oddest time – 10 AM on a Friday. I was like “Hello? I got work to do, remember?"
Of course my plea went unheard and I was done postponing this visit, so anyway, I declared WFH (Work from Home) and stomped to the Dental Office. Of course, totally unaware of how 105F felt outside, I went out without any sort of sun protection. It was “melt my skin” hot! This freaking heat wave is killing me :-/


Plus, the PATH train had to fail on me. Right from the moment go, things went wrong. Trains came late and then a train poofed to a stop. Just like that. Right in front of me. It gave out a screeching hiss and went calm. "Oh that's not good", a lady in her suit exclaimed beside me. I saw a couple of similar looking similar dressed bankers or whoever typing rapidly on their phones, trying to make phone calls to call in late to work. Of course, you all know what a cool cat I am eh? I just whipped out the latest book from my library and went digging right in. Half hour later, the train was still hissing on and off. Hmm. I was going to get late to this appointment I thought. It felt ominous and I suddenly felt hungry. Hmm.  But anyway, they sort of moved the train to clear the tracks and the next train came in, so it wasn't, let me just say, all that bad.

Blame it on my Iphone, it was showing me wrong directions. Why would it show wrong directions, you ask? Simple, because I entered 126 instead of 162. Yes, wrong address. LOL. When I almost gave up searching for this office I found it on the corner of the street with a tiny placard with office hours written on it in Arial font. (Now did I tell you how much Arial font irks me?) “This is it?”, I thought to myself. It looked like a tiny home from outside, so obviously I judged it. I took respite in the yelp reviews. 4.5 stars. They must do something right, I concluded.
They buzzed me in through the main entrance (didn't I tell you it was a home?!) and when I went up my conclusions were true. It was like some sort of 3 bedroom apartment converted into a dental office. Hmm. Not that I am sucker for fancy things, still! Anyway, I filled out the forms and such. You know with all those lengthy Q&A on your medical history and about my non-existent pregnant life and what not. I got so impatient filling it out at a point, when I started scrolling "NONE" in bold all over the paper. Serious. :D

Anyway, a petite nice looking lady doc ushered me in.

Doc: Hi, I am M
Me (beaming, almost wanted to say I am M too!): Hi
Doc: Nice to see you, could you lie down for me please
Me: Yes
Doc: So what brings you here M?
Me: Just passed by, thought I would give you a visit

Thankfully she had a sense of humor


Doc: And let me guess, you saw the reflection of your smile on the shop window and didn't like it?
Me: Haha. (Turning serious). My wisdom tooth's hurting and my gums are bleeding
Doc: Hmm. Lets take a look then. I will take your X-Ray first.
Me: (Nodding)
Me: (Jumping up) Just so you know I never visited a dentist ever

I think she narrowed your eyebrows to camouflage her shock at my statement

Doc: May I ask why? Are you scared of us?
Me: No, not really. I don't think I was ever worried about oral hygiene until I saw my gums bleed this week
Doc: Hmm, not good. You should visit a dentist atleast twice a year.
Me: Sure

X-rays and all that jazz done, she flashed them on her computer, digital shots.

Nastyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

That was my instant reaction

Me: They look, um, nasty!
Doc: Well, I dont think you even brush twice or floss. Am I right
Me: (Nods in approval)
Doc: That's not good. It can get serious.

Me dont eat desserts. Me dont eat chocolates. Me drinks lots of caffeine though. But I didnt tell her this.


Doc: So for the wisdom teeth, I am sorry, but you need to go to an oral surgeon to get them extracted
Me: But they pain!
Doc: I know, I dont do tooth extraction

I hide my anger. I thought that was in your job description.


Doc: I can go a cleaning to help your gums, but they need to be restored. You will need atleast two deep cleaning session...blah blah..

At this point I was looking at this cheesy wall hanging in her office that read "Smile, it costs nothing"
Yeah, right. Tell that to a dentist. 
I resisted telling her - "Let me tell you, I am doing only things that are covered under Insurance ok?"

Doc: ..so what do you want to do?
Me: Cleaning for now
Doc: Ok, lets do it

Sigh


She thrust some hissing tube into my mouth, it's supposed to suck the saliva out of the mouth once it is open for too long. I interrupted her every second she groped for her tools to ask her what they do. At one point she went all "Sssssshhhh" on me. That was her way of telling STFU. So polite she was.


Doc: Are you ok?
Me: Oh ya, absolutely, I went into a dream like state. I am kind of enjoying this
Doc: Really? It is not paining?
Me: A bit, when you scratch it like you are weeding at a garden

She burst into a loud laugh. I joined her. Then she resumed and I sort of stared at her eyes. Ooooh, romantic. Where else can you stare? LOL. For some time I stared at the light on the top, but it was too much for my eyes. She had liquid brown eyes. She was quite attractive I think. Don't get me wrong, btw. LOL. Dudes must really want her to check on their teeth, I thought.


Rest of it was pretty normal, each time I would be asked to take a break and rinse to spit out all the *stuff* she scratched up from the gums.

Doc: It is not that bad, but ummm, you got a lot of bacteria up on your gums and it has gone a bit deeper, so you really need a deep cleaning. Please take it seriously ok?

Me: OK

Doc: You really have healthy and strong teeth, specially the canines. But they are useless without strong gums. So you gotta take care.

Once she was done, she shoved me a kit - that had a toothbrush, toothpaste and floss and reminded me again. Wow, woman. I got it, ok? Sigh, dont get me all depressed now about my teeth.


So I got my X-rays now and everytime I look at them, I run like I am on fire to the restroom and brush. I have got really paranoid about my teeth now :(

The beauty of loneliness

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This is my entry for Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 8


She ran across from her bedroom as the phone ring. She knocked her feet against the doorstop. Only this was the third time. She almost resisted from screaming the curse word.  "God, why me?", she muttered.

"How are you baby?", said the voice over the phone. It was her mom.
"Whatever mom! Fine", she huffed
"How was your day darling?", her mom continued.
"Ma...what can be different? Please Ma, what do you want?", she gasped.
"Oh I just hoped I could give you some company. I will call you some other time, you should get some rest", her mom replied.
"OK. Fine. Night!", she dropped her phone and strutted to the couch, her toe was still paining from the third hit at the doorstop.

As she settled in her couch and flipped through the TV, she sighed. "Not even the damn TV can show something interesting", she grunted, still holding her toe by her palm.

Suddenly she felt all lonely. She looked around. The silence was somewhat discomforting. Except for the faint sound of the air conditioner in her bedroom, she could hear nothing. Her eyes fell on the magazine spread across on the coffee table. The magazine cover was partially visible, it looked like two eyes peering out at her.  (It was actually a skirt pictured on the cover). It reminded her of the time when she used to make portraits. Dozens of them. Of everyone she saw, remembered or met. She was so good at it. Until she had to leave all that behind to take up a corporate job. She sighed. She hated living with roommates and having to compromise on so many things. She hated being bothered or being instructed. She had imagined life would be "fun" living alone. Without menacing company to bother her. She could get all the time to herself, if she stayed away from people, family, friends, she had thought.

As so many thoughts sped her mind, her eyes got moist. She was strange as a child. While kids would play around and savor delicious food, she would sit in a corner and watch them do, whatever they do. And sketch them and make portraits. Once she had made a portrait of a woman who was "dressed funnily". She had run into her at an old abandoned building, few blocks from her school. She sketched her and talked to her and shook hands with her. She was full of cigarette smell. She smoked a lot and funny hair and lot of makeup.
When she showed the portrait to her dad, he was miffed at her. She didn't understand why. She was sure her sketch was quite like the woman she had met that afternoon. Her mom had later told her that she actually drew the portrait of a whore. And she should never go to that awful building ever.

She smiled as that memory came back. A sudden thought struck her. She slipped into her jeans and stuffed her pockets with dollar bills. She made some purchases at a nearby art store. She climbed down to the basement of her apartment building and fished out her old easel and dusted it. As old memories ravaged her, she sketched and sketched into the dawn. Only taking breaks to make pots of coffee. She sketched till her body ached and her arms screamed of exhaustion. As she used up the final bits of colored pencils, she took stock of the portraits in front of her.

She drew herself, a series of portraits of herself. Some pretty, some happy, some sad, some hopeful and some thoughtful expressions of herself. Funny how she remembers her own face. "I must be looking at the mirror too long!", she thought.

The phone rang, this time it was her boss. The clock showed 6 am. She did not take the call.

"Screw it", she said aloud. She strutted back to her bed and pulled the sheets over her. Smiling and strangely not feeling lonely anymore.

My prompt this time came from Janani - "Loneliness can make people do the strangest things"
Btw, special mention for Janani since I came across Indie Ink Challenge for the first time in one of her blog posts. Her posts are amazingly charming. So do visit her blog =)


My prompt went to Shiv this week - "Why so serious?" Find the reply (a poem!) here

Inspiring songs

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I woke up to a dull Sunday today. Still trying to find my mojo, I switched onto these songs (building a playlist on my itunes now) that sound inspiring on some level.

Fighter - Christine Aguilera

Fireworks - Katy Perry

Affirmation - Savage Garden

Raise your glass - Pink

It's my life - Bon Jovi 

Daily affirmation

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I bumped into this cute but solid daily affirmation video by a kid who apparently is in a great positive mood!

#Trust30 | Day 28 - Overcoming uncertainty

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Nothing can bring you peace but yourself. Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles.- Ralph Waldo Emerson

*This photo was from the first time I went skiing last Winter. I was tired, scared and wimpy. All because I didn't trust myself. I set my heart to believe I will crash into a tree or a fence and I will hurt myself bad. That was enough to stop me from even "giving it a chance". I think the first step to defeat is accepting defeat even before facing it. That day I was ashamed of myself - for setting myself up for failure.


Write down a major life goal(s) you have yet to achieve or even begin to take action on. 
I have several major goals, but let's just pick two from top of the pile:
- Build a world class mobile app
- Write a book


For each goal, write down three uncertainties (read: fears) you have relating to each goal. 
What are my resistances to building a mobile app?
1) I know nothing about programming mobile apps
2) Where do I get started? Should I worry about "having it all" before I start?
3) How will users react to this? Will this be a hit or a miss?


What are my resistances to writing a book?
1) I know nothing about writing/publishing a book
2) Am I a good enough writer?
3) What should I write about? I think my ideas are too random and not sorted for a book


Break it down further, and write down three reasons for each uncertainty. 
I suffer from the "I know nothing" syndrome. This is strangely only in selected areas. For example, if I am cooking a regular dish (I love to cook) and I experiment with the ingredients, I don't fear about the uncertainty. I guess I think to myself "What's the worse that could happen? The dish turns bad? I can always order a pizza then!". It is funny how that does not apply to my goals though. 


So how do we solve this "I know nothing" syndrome. Like a true engineer, break it down into manageable pieces. Solve each piece and put together (why do I feel like I am talking about Merge Sort algorithm, haha) the final product. Sounds daunting if we think about the final solution, but is not, if you focus on each little piece. So let's take my fears for "writing a book goal" and break it apart.


1) I know nothing about writing/publishing a book

Start writing few words a day. That can't be tough, can it? I feel like all my thoughts float into ether and I do not capture them at the time when it strikes me. Make a point of jotting down ideas-on-the-go. Use Evernote. Hmm. And then turn that into a tiny story for the day. I still don't have to worry about later. Just write. And do not fear the BIG goal.

2) Am I a good enough writer?

Let's just assume I am. Things go smooth if you trust yourself. Each time this fear stares at you, think of the time you got that one compliment from your well-wisher or reader. That should keep me going. Hmm.

3) What should I write about? I think my ideas are too random and not sorted for a book

Take inspiration from your surroundings. New York City is a great place to be. Specially if you are a writer who soaks up stuff happening around you. I should find myself lucky to be here. I have to start making notes of stuff around me. And again, just write.


When you have three reasons for your fear, you’ll be able to start processing the change because you know where the fear stems from. Now you’ll be able to make a smaller changes that push you towards your larger goal. So begins the process of “trusting yourself.”


This post is part of the #Trust30 Project. #Trust30 is an online initiative and 30-day writing challenge from TheDominoProject that encourages you to look within and trust yourself. Learn more at RalphWaldoEmerson.me

Week-a-boo

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Week-a-boo is my attempt to curate some of the quirky links I bump into during the week. Have a great weekend!=)

Humid humid NYC weather. Skipped a track event. Dragged myself to grocery store.
And now propped on the bed overlooking the clear skies over Hudson, is my dear old PC (Next week my Macbook Pro arrives, hurray!)




So anyways, what are you guys doing this weekend? Here are some of the quirky links I looked up this week. Good to snug up and read on, preferably with a hot chai=)

Watch this intense video footage of a woman about to jump off her apartment building

If you love museums like me, go straight to Google Art Project. Now. And the recommended TED talk from the Googler behind this project.

Insightful interview with an introverted engineer who went on to lead Mozilla

America's first package-free zero waste grocery store in Austin, Texas

This is how you can fix your bad habits

Byliner curates some of the best magazine articles all at one place. How cool is that?

Tips on how to train your focus

Why @shitmydadsays thinks Father's Day is BS

And finally...Tina Fey reads out BossyPants in her own voice. As for me, I have a large print edition of the book that I am reading. It has been quite a hilarious memoir so far.

Role Models and all that;)

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This is my entry for Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 7


No, I am not talking about Role Models, the movie dammit! Although, I really did like the movie.;)
But we are here to talk about more "serious" stuff. You know things like who inspired you, what in them inspired you and what became of you as a result..such and such. Hopefully I won't bore you. But as always I have little nuggets of events revolving around that, so it shouldn't put to sleep:)

Now, I can't pin down on one role model. I think I am just as wavering in real life. I liked a whole bunch of people as I grew up, haha.

The first one I remember was at, you guessed it, school! I did really really bad at Math and Hindi (India's official language) as subjects so I avoided them like the plague. I understood, appreciated and built my entire primary school life around English and Literature. Ya, I know. Genius kid I was. But all that was for one reason. To impress my beautiful looking personable and charming English teacher at school. Sophie was her name. OMG, I would do anything to impress her. I somehow felt if I grew up I should be like her. I would secretly read and re-read and re-re-read all the chapters from my English textbook weeks ahead so I could impress her. She was impressed with me too. I was quite the charmer, eh? I took pride in my highest marks on English, only the Math and Hindi screwed me over and over. My report card would read
English - 99/100
Math - 34/100
Hindi - 16/100

And I would sob over...you guessed it right...that 1 mark I missed before I hit 100. *Sob*

My dad never understood my obsession with English. I never told him till date it was because of Sophie. LOL. He always thought he seemed to have inspired that in me. BS.

Anyway, so a day came when the whole world around me shattered. Apparently, Sophie HATED my handwriting. That day she had given up on me. She called me straight to her desk and almost said that she couldn't take it anymore. That's not what she said, but I could read her eyes. She apparently had a tough time reading through all my wonderfully scripted answers on the exam answer sheet. She knew I was solid on the English but my handwriting gave her sleepless nights. I was too young to remember her exact words but that day I broke into pieces. But...I thought I was THE BEST at English! And all she told me was I would go nowhere if I did not make an effort to learn how to write legibly.

I was in tears. I sobbed whole night. I refused to eat and locked myself in my room. My dad was a little worried. By nature I was a rather fierce kid. Rebelling and fighting and devil-may-care attitude was more my style. Not the weepy, lonely, loser kid. And I spoke very little (that was a biggie, because I was quite a talkative kid too). Anyway, I silently saved up money to buy those handwriting practice books (you know with whole lot of rules so you could get those perfectly shaped ABCD's). I was too proud a kid to ask for extra money for this. I quit buying silly truck toys (I loved trucks and airplanes as a kid and hated barbies. LOL). I shut myself up everyday for hours getting the perfect cursive handwriting. I would stick my forefinger between each word, because Sophie told me I NEVER put spaces between words and that's why it sucked. (I remember this part because my fingers ached and my head ached out of boredom repeating this drudgery of sticking my finger between every word till I didn't require to do that)


Anyhow, it was months before I emerged victorious. The day I got 100 was when Sophie said I had the best handwriting and she gave me +2 for best handwriting (Thinking of that now, how silly it seems 102/100, haha)
Woot woot!

Oh shoot, wasn't this about role models or something. I guess I just got carried away.

I really keep jumping from one role model to another all my life. But seriously, as narcissist as it sounds, I would give anything to be THAT rebel of a kid I was. Maybe that is what I miss today. I think I would want to make my "kid self" as my role model today.

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This post was a result of Chamindra aka Disease challenging me to this prompt:
"Tell Us About your Role Model and the Reasons Behind Your Choice"

So hoping I did a good job, I will go right ahead and eat a tiny portion of half-baked frozen yogurt I got today, temptations not withstanding;) Oh, before that, I happened to challenge Joelyn with this prompt:
"Imagine you get locked down in a library for a night, what would you do?"

Read about her adventure here

Of Cherry Blossoms and Macarons!

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This is my entry for Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 6
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Something about the macarons screamed sandwich to me the day I was first introduced to them.
When I first saw those tiny creations of art, I blurted out "That's like Klondke but with pretty colors!"
My friend's face hung in shame. She swore I knew nothing about macarons and I should shut up. Of course, I didn't know anything abt them! That is the first time I saw. I was fascinated by the colors - pink, light green, brown, lavendar - than it's taste. And then another faux pas.

"But I though they are supposed to have browned coconut flakes over them, no?", obviously confusing a macaron for a macaroon. My friend decided she had enough of my macaron blasphemy (she is a big big macaron fan). Of course, I have to tell you they are one of the smoothest silkiest creations that melt in your mouth. I have since dreamed of cooking them, but have been discouraged. It is supposed to be hard I am told. Close to impossible. But after looking at this recipe and pictures I will say "It is worth the effort". I am macaron inspired right now. Haha.

What made the pictures even more appealing were the cherry blossoms...
Cherry Blossoms are another of those things I got introduced to after I moved to US.
I recently had been to a Cherry Blossom Festival at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. The Cherry Esplanade was nothing short of epic.

Plus all the cherry blossomy smell in the cool air was such a bliss. So seeing Cherry Blossoms associated with Macarons was almost like adrenaline rush (no kidding!) when I bumped into this recipe page. I have always struggled making meringue so I understand when people tell it is tough to make these babies.

Meanwhile my cherry blossom inspired smile =)

This week's challenge came from Karla V and the prompt was:
Canelle et Vanille (http://cannelle-vanille.blogspot.com/) is one of my favorite food blogs. Since you seem to share my love of good food, pick a recipe from that site and craft your own narrative surrounding the pictures and the food. Don't forget to provide a link to that recipe in your post.

Thanks Karla for customizing a prompt based on my interest for cooking!:) That definitely didn't feel like a narrative but I was short on time (and all those excuses;). I promise to enhance this post pretty soon.

I challenged Lilu to :
Sometimes we are not aware of our surroundings as much as we should be. We use the phone, listen to music, read a book and so on...but fail to notice some really simple pleasures around us. Write about the different things you noticed today. Yes, there has to be something different you will see otherwise you are not looking enough;)
See Lilu's response here which I haven't read yet! Reading right now...

Yes, you can do it!

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Read the full entry at the Right Brain Terrain Manifesto

#Trust30 | Day 11 - Fear

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If there is one thing that can give us freedom from fear, what do you think that one thing is?

I pondered on that question for a quite a long while now. In subways. In offices. In restrooms. In supermarkets. In bookstores. In restaurants. In musuems. In parks. In my bedroom. Nothing struck me. Then it occurred to me today, out of the blue. And this is the thing:

By learning to love and own your imperfections, you will have no fear





So here is the deal. Will jumping off a cliff (its called bungee jumping in the modern ages;)), skydiving or adventure sports of any kind give you this freedom. Maybe a bit. You will now have done something that you "thought" you could never do. But the ultimate escape from fear is learning to love yourself. As cliched as it sounds, it is the THE most important change that we can make in life. Yet in even acknowledging your imperfections there is fear! Funny how that works no?
So why are we doing this to ourselves? Hurting ourselves and worrying sick with lumps in our throats and knots in our stomach over things that don't really matter? I am not saying i you fear snakes, go dive into a snake pit without thought. All I am saying is this fear, this resistance is stopping you from being awesome.

Take this for example. I am in a room with a large audience with reputable people and world renowned author at the podium on the stage. Once she finished speaking, she opens the floor for questions. I have a question to ask. What is the first thing that comes to my mind?

- Did I phrase my question appropriately?
- Would she be offended by what I ask?
- Will I be able to ask her in a presentable voice and demeanor?
- What will other people in the audience think of me? *Cringe*

And the moment has passed. Someone else has asked a question and we are out of time.
OK, maybe my example is not that great. But you get the point. Overthinking led to resistance which led to fear. Now i will never be able to ask that question to her face-to-face. So was shutting down and going blank worth it? NO! Yet, we do this every single day for the simplest of things.

Now, sit down and write answers to these questions:


Is the insecurity you’re defending worth the dream you’ll never realize? or the love you’ll never venture? or the joy you’ll never feel?

No, not even close to worth. In fact this will turn into deep regret that I haven't even given it a shot for the fear of failing badly in it. Learning from failures and mistakes is what makes humans invincible.

Will the blunder matter in 10 years? Or 10 weeks? Or 10 days? Or 10 minutes?
Maybe 10 mins. Human memory is short. We forget our blunders as soon as the next one happens.

Can you be happy being anything less than who you really are?
I can never be happy doing something that is not me, not what I stand for. Funny how humans are motivated - it is not money but our passions that drive happiness in us.

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This post is part of the #Trust30 Project. #Trust30 is an online initiative and 30-day writing challenge from TheDominoProject that encourages you to look within and trust yourself. Learn more at RalphWaldoEmerson.me

These are the voices which we hear in solitude, but they grow faint and inaudible as we enter into the world. Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members – Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

Is fear holding you back from living your fullest life and being truly self expressed? Put yourself in the shoes of the you who’s already lived your dream and write out the answers to the following:

Is the insecurity you’re defending worth the dream you’ll never realize? or the love you’ll never venture? or the joy you’ll never feel?

Will the blunder matter in 10 years? Or 10 weeks? Or 10 days? Or 10 minutes?

Can you be happy being anything less than who you really are?

Now Do. The Thing. You Fear.

(Author: Lachlan Cotter)

Why work doesn't happen at work?

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How many hours of uninterrupted work time do you get at office?
Why is it that getting even 1 hour of uninterrupted time at office such a rare sight?
So why cant we all just work from home or coffee shops or libraries or basements instead?
Does banning Facebook, Twitter etc. at work help your productivity? (Umm hello, we have all got smartphones now. Remember?)

The real problems are Managers and Meetings (M&M's)
In fact, the one day I work from home, I am free of distractions! Meetings are toxic. You will almost always only require a 5 min phone call to get something done - not a meeting. So a 1 hour meeting with 10 people actually wastes 10 hours of time.

Watch Jason Fried (I love this dude!) from 37Signals speak about the issues of working in brick and mortar places we call "office space", how it actually hurts our productivity because of M&M's and how can we remedy this.

PS: Extra points if you read his book Rework - a quick and dirty manifesto for entrepreneurs

The Four-Story Jigsaw Puzzle

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This is my entry for Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 5
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As a kid I was really a riot. Right now, I am one millionth of a rebel I used to be. Sigh.


I loved playing in mud and making mud structures, mud buildings (castles?), mud pies, mud toys(!!), mud bears (sort of like gummy bears), mud trucks (I had a thing for automobiles then), mud bricks (seriously?), mud cones, mud version of Jack Frost. Mud everything. In short, I was obsessed with mud. My mom worried so much about this mud of an obsession. Haha. I played in the mud till all sorts of gross boils started springing up all over my hands. Till date I have a small, tiny circle-ish  patch near the knuckles of my left hand. As a sign of my epic muddy days.


I think those wounds got my mom sick with worry. My dad wasn't really bothered. He always said so long as I did not beat up some kid and get into trouble I was ok. He said, "You can beat. But if you get into trouble, don't expect me to come to any of those dreadfully boring Parent Teacher things with ugly teachers." Till date, he's never been to one so I am not sure how he assumed that 1) They were boring and 2) They had ugly teachers in my school.


I remember vividly when I built this absurd structure in mud, with great finesse. I prided in the right proportions of water I used, the best tools I used to give it a shape (apparently my lunch box and spoons to scoop up mud) and that I did it after class while all other "stupid" kids (how obnoxious could I get? haha) would play "chor police" in the ground. I don't remember what exactly happened then. I have no dramatic story attached to it - except that oddly I remember my dad had come to school to pick me up after that and the first thing he asked me was "Where the heck is the Diary Milk I gave you this morning?". I remember this maybe because in my mud obsessive life, a chocolate or candy had no place. I apparently forgot the chocolate in the deep realms of my backpack, melted by the scorching sun. My dad's reaction was a bit ballistic to my taste. He swore he was never buying me a Dairy Milk again. Through the entire ride home on his moped he kept swearing and swearing while I took delight in how many new swear words I was learning at the time. Once we reached home, he shoved it in the freezer and told me "Now you eat it like you would have ate it normally. Not now. Once that thing gets solid. Don't you ever leave a chocolate lying around like that". I think he had something nagging him about the Diary Milk. But I never asked. And he never got me a chocolate again. I didn't particularly care, since I never really loved chocolates/candies.


Ah, well, so much for the mud story.

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My challenge came from WideLawns this week and the prompt was:

"Find the title of a news article from anywhere, any time. Use that as the title (metaphorically) of a personal essay about an event or events in your own life. Link back to the original article with the same title for fun."


Sorry, this post was very last minute and just about 15 mins ago I was reading this news article on New York Times and instantly remembered a part of my childhood :-) There is no jigsaw puzzle piece to my story, I think the "four-story" triggered my only childhood memory of building something. 

The Internet is my religion

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Gotta watch this video. It will be the best 10 minutes of your life today (unless of course you are chilling somewhere in the Carribean with a billion dollars in your overseas account. Even then!)

So this dude fought cancer twice, juggled a couple of startups and went on to become a media activist. He speaks about how Internet became his GOD. No, really! Awesome. Inspiring. Stuff. Read Jim Gilliam's blog Make The Future

Quoting him from the video:
"God is what happens when humanity gets connected. Humanity connected is God"

And now the video...

#Trust30 | Day 8 - Five Years

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Hey there Manju, five years ago!


You were pretty solid at your work but kept getting restless. You thought, heck I should do Masters. It will be a good deal to add to your resume. Maybe meet some awesome people on the way. So you went through trouble to apply and make decisions. Decisions you thought you would never regret - but you did. And life went on. You were in your early twenties then. Still figuring out stuff for yourself. Naive but bold and excited about days to come. And slowly you got sucked into a spiral of boredom, routine and all those man-made reasons that make you lazy, tame and unwilling to try something new. You took things for granted. You took respite in the status quo. You thought to yourself, "I am just about average. There is nothing much I can do"


Hey there Manju, five years from now (into the future)


You are shaking up things now. You look at yourself and raise your brow like Barney Stinson and say "I am awesome and legend-wait-for-it-ary". You take every opportunity that comes your way and turn it into gold. You think, "What the heck. Lets do it". You are now the CEO of your own world. You have trekked to the Himalayas, written a book, started a food establishment, married your prince charming, built the fastest, ultra low latency, highly scalable and revolutionary data crunching platform in the world. Hahaha. In short you are knocking the socks out of life. Congrats, you got from suck to non-suck.


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This post is part of the #Trust30 Project. #Trust30 is an online initiative and 30-day writing challenge from TheDominoProject that encourages you to look within and trust yourself. Learn more at RalphWaldoEmerson.me


Today's prompt:


There will be an agreement in whatever variety of actions, so they be each honest and natural in their hour. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

What would you say to the person you were five years ago? What will you say to the person you’ll be in five years?


(Author: Corbett Barr)