No one was annoyed at me at work today, my best friend set an alarm just to talk to me (coz I haven’t spoken to my #friendslikefamily in AGES), and now I also have a fidget spinner and a new shower head.

This is what I call a good day.

Thank you and good night.

Stah-tus Reporrrt

After six months of living among firangs, I finally understand why Indians who immigrate as adults feel like they have to put on Western accents (I’m talking about the ones who put on the accent when in firangland, not the ones who go back to India and then speak “fancy” to “impress” the “plebs”.)

I have said paath instead of paeth and staytus instead of stahtus a million times in the last 200 days and have been asked to repeat myself a million times because the firangs don’t understand what I’m trying to say. They don’t mean ill, they just don’t understand. So I got tired of “saying it one more time” and just say paeth and stahtus. My impostor syndrome is doing the samba to an intense drum beat but at least conversations are so much easier. It is also so much funnier because I instantly become desi the second I get back to family; we still speak English but it feels like it’s an entirely different dialect.

All this drama despite being a fluent speaker. God help those who have only second language proficiency.

24 drafts on my dashboard. Goodlord.

I keep wondering why I let blogging become about doing challenges and getting on lists and writing a story that was better than the last, because the people who commented before had to comment on this one saying it was better than the last one, you know. I think twice, thrice, four times before I type something out because in my head, I’m thinking, oh what is this person going to think about this sentence, what is that person going to feel about that one. But you know what, honestly, I don’t think anybody has the time to give a shit about what someone random writes on their blog. More importantly, by the time I have filtered out the stuff that I supposedly can write about and finished up that thought, I lose interest because there is too much edited out for it to really be me. Somewhere along the way, it became less about writing and more about presentation, and readership, and blogging as a career (LOLROFL @ me who thought she could make blogging her business), and everything else, other than writing. For me. About me. As narcissistic as that sounds. But whatever, you get the point.

I think back to 2010 when blogging brought me so much joy and I realize, the reason people “liked” what I wrote was because I was unapologetically myself. As stupid as it sounds, it was like an online diary of sorts? Not trying to be cool, not trying to meet expectations, not trying to be politically correct, just a 19 year old yakking on about whatever the current drama unfolding in her weird little life.

I want to try to go back to that, relearn how to verbally diarrhea (can I use that as a verb?) on a page until I feel better (and sometimes let someone passive aggressively know that they are a dick – I know, cheap, so sue me). I need to relearn because as I learn new and horrifying things about myself, I need to find an outlet and find some solace; using my brain to read doesn’t seem to be helping, and I haven’t found a good therapist yet.

So I’ll try to write for myself. And not worry about typos and political correctness and about appropriateness. Fuck that, no?

P.S: This is probably the weirdest, most random, most unnecessary, most unhelpful post ever (we will talk about my acute self-deprecation in another post) . To the 0.5 people who are (is?) reading this, sorry :P!


I have one job at a place I deeply care about but they can’t offer me the role I really want coz internal policies and general work culture.

I have another job that I love the idea of and pays well but is sporadic.

I’m starting a third job on Monday that I’m terrified of but will pay my bills and then some.

Worst part is I still haven’t figured out what I want to be ‘when I grow up’.

I want to go back to school to study one thing I’m passionate about but won’t get me a decent job for years, another thing that offers kickass pay and will give me job satisfaction but will probably burn me out in a few years, and yet another thing that I want to study just to appease my curiosity. I’d also like a job in this last thing which would be super super perfect but I don’t know head or tail of where I would start.

All this has nothing to do with my current experience/ education, which has me wondering if I should just shut up and leverage these two to get a good position and then I can not worry about money ever.

Why do I have to make all these decisions? Why can’t I just be?

P.S: Can you imagine what it’s like in my head?

Sup God.

The older I grow, the more things I experience, the more I find myself feeling that there HAS to be someone watching over us.

It’s a little bit of mind fuckery really: the number of instances that I’ve thrown a fit about things not going my way and THEN finding out it was a good thing that they didn’t are piling up and there is no rational explanation that I can offer either.

Either way, it’s highly unlikely that I’ll stop being a ‘sinner’ but I AM super thankful for the support.

#TheGirlWhoLoved TheBoyWhoLived

I was having a potty morning.
Like a really potty morning when I cried in public like a fool of a took and wanted to call in sick to work (but CAN’T because in this part of the world you are paid by the hour and if you don’t show up, you don’t get paid SHEESH *rolls eyes*) and not even go back home.

Then I switched on my headphones and listened to Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived.
“Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London underground.”
“Would you care for a lemon drop? A what? A lemon drop.”

I was grinning so wide, passersby probably started to wonder if the -21 C had finally gotten to me.
And then magically, the rest of the day turned for the better.

JKR might have become problematic but Harry Potter will always remain the boy who saved me.

The Unhelpful Mulberry Bush

It is amazing how one day is full of anxiety and unsure-ness (is that a word? what is the right word? where are all my words?) and just generally not having control over how messed up everything is in your head and then, the next day, EVERYthing just simplifies itself, the bad feelings just dissipate into nothingness like they were never there, and your mind is back to being #KonMari-ed.

Basically, the lesson I learned: Going in circles without having all the facts is NOT helpful.

P.S: My post titles are getting more and more random, aren’t they xD