Muddled.

Well. I remember my blog every now and then, and think that it's too much effort to get down to writing a whole coherent piece, so I quickly close the tab. There is far too much to say, and I am completely incapable of articulating it all. But, sometimes, a dam breaks and you feel the need to type furiously, incoherently, until the confused pulsating red-hot-blob of blehness in your stomach quietens down and you can go back to being boringly humdrum again. I have often wondered why I can't write witty pieces on contemporary issues and be all awesomely intellectual on this blog, but then I guess it has, over the years, turned into a remarkably useful rant-spot, so we shall leave it as such. Maybe, when my brain is somewhat less fraught with conflict and is less befuddled, it will get down to the seriously cool task of opinionating.

I really don't know what's happening. Bal Thackeray died. Whee. Ponty Singh and his brother died. Okay. Nobody really politically important died in Delhi. Damn. I could do with the Price Oxford International Media Law Moot - South-East Asia Rounds being cancelled. Foreverandever. My results are semi-out and they do not make my family particularly happy. They don't make me happy either, but that's primarily because of the extended displeasure that my parents evince on hearing of an unforeseen "B+" and the fact that, following this trajectory, I'm going to have no options open before me when I graduate.

My internship is fun. I'm happier than I have been in the recent past, but that's tinged with a really weird sensation of regret. Regret on so many different levels. That I headed to NALSAR, in the first place; that I chose not to keep my mouth shut and do things as expected of me, and that I'm now facing the music for it; that I might just have bitten off a lot more than I can chew, and have thrown away my chances of studying abroad, as I have wanted to for ever so long. I suppose what is most irksome about it is that while I might do my best to dump the blame for all of this on other folk, the choices were mine. And regret stings most in those situations.

Most of the things I get to do are because I study in NALSAR, but I still seem to hate it from the very core of my being. It stifles me. Even a notional mention of it brings forth waves of revulsion. The other day I had a conversation with somebody about handing over the power of definition to the bad guys and then whining about how horrible the scene is. Well, yeah so I take over the power of definition and NALSAR is "my" university and so what? It remains a shithole where you can get screwed over on multiple levels and people will sit around and watch. It remains a shithole, miles away from any kind of civilisation, chock full of pretentious attempts at CV building (heh, look at me mootin'!) and being "studly". Remains a shithole where as a student you can afford to have a "life" only if you're filthy rich. A shithole that you can give your everything to but just get fucked in return. And the only retaliation possible is a god damned blog post! Except, that it is so despite my definition of what it could be. Gee! That makes me so much happier and hugely empowered!

My mother says that it is futile trying to knock some sense into me because no matter where I go, I get into altercations with all manners of people and then whine about how they're unfair. Which makes me wonder if the problem is with NALSAR or it's just me. Evidently, a lot of people seem to be getting along fine in NALSAR. They're "nice" people, "good" students, over-achievers by any measure, and nobody threatens to expel them. They have friends by the cart-load, teachers salivating over their answer scripts and not a regret in the world (I presume). Maybe being all activist-y is just presumptuous as hell, 'cause who said I'm needed? It's just some sort of ego-massage, presuming that there is a battle to fight and that you're the one to do it. A chap recently told me that all of this "stance-taking" is just very hollow because there is practically nothing that you can do about it, so what's the point? Register your dissent and then do the same things. Say you really dislike the competition and the feel like a miserable failure because you cannot succeed in being the bigger rat. Say you dislike the system and then feel miserable because you stuck your foot in the door and someone stuck an arm out to biff you on the nose. This bravado is all for "big" people. For those who need something from the system, all the protest is farcical, 'cause their future is held hostage by the darned system that they are fighting. And the big people don't need anything in the system to change, so status quo it is.

I haven't the slightest idea what the point of this post is. I don't know if I can even try to conform to the "ideal student" stereotype. I don't know if I am willing to give up on my dreams in order to stand up to a system, presumptuous as that motivation is in the first place. I just want to remain as far away from NALSAR as possible. For as long as possible. I want to act again, to go for fun plays and concerts, have time to read fiction that I like. I want to drop the inhibitions that have constrained me for ever so long. I want to be able to get drunk without the fear of what I would do or say.

Sigh.

Rambling is good. Really.

This is the tenth time since I last posted on my blog that I am starting a new post. The previous nine attempts lie deleted. I start off with much gusto, which fizzles out in a few lines. That seems telling of the way I have been dealing with things in general. In starts and stops; continuity seems alien to my existence. Tenacity was never my strong point but, these days, I don't seem to complete anything. Thoughts. Work. Equations. Blog posts.

It's all broken.

I think it is because I've turned bitter. I called someone jaded on my blog, a while back. I feel jaded now. Uneasy around optimism; quick to be bitter or sarcastic; unwilling to let perceived wrongs go. At some level, it's just a convenient state of mind: I can feel morose, wallow in self-pity, be mean and feel as though it is all justified.

I know better.

I know that I've always been one royal whiner. Those I like talking to have had to bear with the unfortunate burden that my whining is. Sometimes they do so with a smile pasted on their faces, sometimes they tell me to go boil my head. But they usually listen. The problem is that I've got to a stage where I take out my frustration on those whom I am whining to. My lack of agency, my inability to get things done is often transferred to the people I believe are better placed to act. I fail to recognise that their constraints, their inability to act may be causing them just as much frustration. When you have a disagreement with the people you usually agree with, you feel god-awful. Or, at least, I do.

And then there are expectations. From people you have no right to expect anything from. When do you have a right to expect something? Expecting reasons for stances taken, consideration when you're low, an explicit indication of love, a patient ear, to be understood; it's all a giant build-up to a single sensation - disappointment. And then, I've mastered the art of being misunderstood, in any case. Ask someone if the person is a feminist and I've victimised the collective for taking a stance against my personal ideology. Or perhaps it is someone else taking the more convenient path to justify the person's unsubstantiated position. I am getting used to that too: having what I "twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools". There we go again - self-pity.

What bothers me is how much all of this bothers me. How far I'm willing to let things sink into my minimal grey matter and hog up processing power. How easy it is to unsettle me with just a phrase, these days.

I am scared.

I am scared that I do not fit into the society I live in and that there is nobody whom I connect with and who wishes to connect back. I am afraid of being an oddity; I want to be endearing and likable by the common measure. But then, I am also incapable of being anybody else but myself. And I am an oddity. I am short-haired, fat, loud, opinionated, brash, arrogant and easy to dislike or fear. What I am afraid of, is that people cannot get beyond that. I want them to; I yearn for people to understand the insecurity, the fear, the hope and the love within. I am afraid that if I do not cling on to people, they'll be more than glad to set me adrift; that they have no need to hold on; that I have nothing to offer.

I do not understand proportions.

I was told, the other night, to bring some degree of proportion into my life. Living in blacks and whites is a fool's life. For someone who argues for nuance in everything that she talks about, I seem to lack it completely in my life. Or do I understand so little about myself that I cannot even perceive the nuances in my relationships with people? That is an unsettling proposition.

I think I am just wary of being vulnerable. We are taught, early on in our lives, that vulnerability is a bad deal. That being at the mercy of another is a pathetic position to be in. But then, I cannot imagine myself completely independent under any circumstance. The problem with caring or expecting anything is that you leave the response to someone else; and there is nothing you can do if they don't care or they choose not to live up to your expectations. Then again, I'd like to think that the Buddha story applies in equal measure here too: what happens when you give someone love and they refuse to take it? You are filled with that much more love.

I'll fix it.