New Year, New Theme, New Resolutions, Same Bluebird.

As the randomizer often mentions, it’s probably the traffic that one attracts that is the biggest motivation to blog besides wanting an outlet to write, vent, opinionate and all that. Obviously I have nil traffic right now, but I hope this changes this year. I have been meaning to write for a while (almost a year *sigh*) now, and an afternoon without really the inclination to do the gazillion things that school demands was motivation enough to re-vitalize my Qi and wake up the Bluebird. Therefore, a little late in the new year with a new theme, I resolve to blog (in?)frequently.

Loath to say ‘resolutions’, some of the things that I would like to be doing this year are:

Buy a good backpack | Make a trip to LA, New York City, Grand Canyon | Use weekends productively | Learn a little about music | Sky dive | Jet Ski | Get an exercise routing.

Besides the above, my target for the year 2008, the one thing that I will concentrate and try to learn most about will be art. Just recently I realized that I have been interested in art for the longest time , but I don’t really *know* much about it’s history, forms, techniques etc., atleast not in any commendable detail.

Last, but not the least, is to keep this blog rolling. =)

The problem that is the city

The last couple of weeks have breezed by without deciding which city to move to after graduation. Between the Bourne Ultimatum (oooh.. Matt Damon! But, my lusting in another post)-Harry Potter and gourmet food, I didn’t get the chance to sit on the potty long enough to think about it. My readership is almost non-existent, but it would have been nice to read opinions on this post.

My choices are Houston, Chicago and New York. Lets begin with Houston. Would I like to be addressed as ‘Howdy, bluebird’ for a long, Long time? Do I want to save the monies by not paying any state tax or city tax or exorbitant-any-tax? Pros: Money, space, cheap housing, proximity to Austin, location on the map making it feasible to travel on work to either coast, friendly people in general and most importantly, half my life. Cons: A vast suburbia, not a pretty city, Texan drawl, questions of ‘can the night-life sustain me for over a year?’ and ‘is there anything to do besides the museums and Astros?’.

Next, Chicago. Five days in the Windy City and it’s my kinda place. Pros: Cool metropolitan, umpteen things to do, places to go, liberal, changing seasons, and good public transport. Cons: Brutal winters, barely five months of summer, and I hardly know anyone to ‘hang out with’… my biggest concern being the winters and not the people or lack of.

New York.

“…These vagabond shoes
Are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it
New York, New York…”

Sinatra’s verse is my only explanation for wanting to move to New York. Heh. From what I’ve heard it’s a dirty city, I probably will not have any savings at all, will absolutely miss life back in Houston, live in a matchbox and travel in the subway that will always be overcrowded, and barely be able to indulge in gourmet food that I have not cooked myself. But, it’s New York!

I need to plan a trip to the city before I decide to move in. A friend who did his internship in the city this summer very succinctly disowned New York. He never wants to go back. Ha. I should maybe plan my office visit here… I loved Bangalore, Mumbai, and I suspect I am going to feel like-wise about New York.  But I’ll never know until I move in, will I?

From a world forgotten

He’s perfect. And I’m his inamorata.

And just like that college was over. We’d stepped into the real world. The world of corporate culture and the rat race. Our first job, the ninth semester.
We met. I detested him. He thought I was a Bitch.
I cherish art. He loves it too.
I love music and dance even more. He does too.
We’re the arty types. CKP is our idea of a perfect date.
We’re book worms and party animals all at once.
We don’t drink anymore. We don’t drink any less.
We love our computers.
We had to meet. Sparks had to fly. It had to begin. But ofcourse. It was, so to say, destined. We had to discover each other.

And so we did.

I’m chirpy, rash and crude. He’s sagacious.
I don’t know a whit about 3D-art. He’s a maestro.
My do-re-mes’ complement a broken harp. He can play three instruments… quite well.
I, small and lithe. He’s tall, brawny and bespectacled.
He loves the Back Street Boys. I’m a metal-head.
He’s the diplomat. I’m the virago incognito.
I love speed, adventure sports. He’s prudent.

He asked me if I would like to be more than friends.
We dated. We became caffine addicts. We visited CKP. We made new friends. We went book hunting in back alleys and second hand shops. We tanned. We danced our nights away at discotheques. We argued and debated. We got drunk on Peach Schnapps and Vanilla Vodka and Terry Gilliam. We changed jobs. We bought curios and Mugs. We had some exotic vegetarian food at Little Italy, one that we can idenify only by a number now – b19. We hated it. We had chicken at Imperial and gorged at Indie Joe. We became gourmets. We jived to Manhatten Brothers and The Elite Swingers at Opus. We made our decision and then he left.

I wear his ring now. I’m his gal forever. He asked me to wait for him. Mais si! I’m his gal forever.
He’s perfect. And I’m his inamorata.

Howdy, bluebird

Funny I had not noticed earlier, but wordpress welcomes me with a ‘Howdy’.  Now, is wordpress intelligent enough to give me a ‘howdy’ because I’m in Texas or does everyone get the same welcome?

Oh C’mon!

A conversation that I had with my housemate, ConfusedBabe (CB) somehow steered towards a discussion on feminism. She claimed she was a feminist and I was glad that I had found a house mate who believed in the ideology. And then we had the following conversation:

Me: So, what do you want to do after your MS?

CB: Hmm… I don’t think I’ll be doing a PhD an’ stuff. I’ll probably work for a while before I head back.

Me: Oh cool, so you have some definite plans of going back to India.

CB: Oh yes. Most definitely. In about 10 years maybe. After I’ve made enough money. I definitely cannot do my laundry all my life!

Me (Perplexed): Huh? Laundry all your life? What about clean clothes?!

CB: No..No.. What I meant is, I am not going to be doing mine, my husband’s and my children’s’ laundry all my life.

Me: Ofcourse! You have your husband help you out an’ stuff… so you won’t have to do it all the time!

CB: I’d rather hire a cook to do all my cooking, a maid for my cleaning etc. instead of me doing it. After all, it doesn’t look good that my husband is doing laundry an’ all na? What will people think? So, I am a girl na? And so I will only be doing all the cleaning and washing and not him.

WTF? So CB here, was worried that her macho husband will fall from whose favor? The scores of nosy relatives who are watching with an eagle eye and are wondering if you are making more money than their son-in-law? Or those relatives whose sole pastime is carrying gossip from one household to the next? And all this because he would help her out with chores? Chores necessary to keep a house that both would be living in and be responsible for? I was disturbed and disappointed to see that a grown woman of my generation would still consider herself to be the ‘lesser’ one and would continue to patronize a patriarchal family where the woman is “supposed” to “bear the burden” of household chores, nevermind the fact that she is financially an equal (if not more) contributor to the welfare of her family.

I certainly understand that one would like to lead a comfortable life as you grow older and I would too. But this painted a picture of the heavy-around-the-belly-husband coming home and squatting on the couch. His wife putting his ‘brief-case’ away and serving him tea even before she has had a chance to freshen up herself. And all this being expected of the woman. I couldn’t stomach it. I have always thought of my partner as my equal and would expect the same treatment from him as I would met out. I wondered what lessons would be passed on to CB’s children whose laundry she would so grudgingly be doing. That, it is still unfortunate to be born a girl?

Game day(s)

It has been a while since I watched a game on television leave alone go to a stadium, and probably would never have ventured out to buy $49 tickets to watch baseball, a game I have only recently made acquaintance of. Coming from a country where football refers to soccer and the nation’s cricket team is revered as much as any of the numerous deities, softball and baseball would definitely take a back seat in my life. That said, yesterday, I not only watched the Astros vs. Dodgers game at Minute Maid Park and immensely enjoyed it, but have been playing softball for my company and am lovin’ it!

Minute Maid Park, Houston, TX - Home of the Astros

Cricket at Wankhede stadium aeons ago having faded from my memory, I had forgotten how impressive a stadium could be… The throngs of people heading toward a single venue, the flags, the music and banners, faces of spectators painted to show their support for a favorite team, the applause and the “Boos”, and finally the green, green field.

Although the game was slower than I would have liked it to be after a long day at work, the catered food and drinks and the people I went with more than made up for it. I would recommend watching one of these games live, simply to experience the sheer energy in the stadium if not anything else.

Softball however, was a whole different “ball game”. I, being a neophyte and oblivious to the rules, had to be led through the entire game by a member of my team. And what’s worse? I learnt it “on the job”, swinging the bat and running for first base on cues of “Run, Rock Star! Run!”. The pitcher of the opposite team felt sorry and actually asked that I move two steps to position myself correctly to “bat”. I cannot help but have a sneaky feeling that I am the weakest link in the team, but I wouldn’t stop going to one of these till the season’s up. The reason? I always, always make contact with the ball! The things that does to my grinning self-esteem! Yaaay! Only now, it rains in Houston everyday with no consideration for the likes of me. And hence, I cannot help but have a sneaky feeling that the Universe conspires against me and my softball. And my free beers after the game.

Materialistic cravings and other things

I want a bike. An Aprilia Shiver 750… THE Aprilia Shiver 750. I also want to live in Manhattan and run an art store in San Fransisco. And own a 50″ HDTV, an x-Box 360 and Burnout revenge. I want to wear the Dior evening gown…all five foot-two inches of me, the one on the mannequin at the Galleria, with the metallic-Manolo Blahnik-sandals and the Armani crocodile-stamped hobo to dinner in Venice.

I want to go sky diving in Oahu and scuba diving in Mauritius. I want to kayak down east islands and explore the amazon forests. Maybe pilot a plane and live a while in the African Jungles. I want a studio with three easels, seven canvases, Kolinsky sabel brushes, and oil paints, sunlit through French windows. Perhaps a bed on the floor with a view of Manhattan’s skyline. And ofcourse, I want to try every cocktail in world.

Now, the next thing I have to have in place is a game plan.