I am experiencing an indescribable pain,
Though my mind feels numb with grief,
I can't believe this has happened again...
Should I feel sad, or glad with relief?
Tonight I've let you go,
Though you were never mine...
Tonight we're one our own again
And I tell myself it will be fine.
Oh how I loathe the line.
If everything happens for the best...
why do some things happen at all?
Why are such sorts thrust upon me,
Who leave an after-taste of bitter gall?
Why do some people appall?
WHy do I warm up so easy?
Why can't I be cold and stiff?
Why do I have so much love within,
Waiting to be lavished on those
Who never seem to ...
Saturday, March 24, 2012
The things I feel like eating...sorry for the ENGLISH-BANGLA MIX, BUT I FEEL THAT THIS IS GOOD FOR MY SOUL
1. Magur macchhe jhol,very light, with a good squeeze of lemon over soft, soft rice...
2. Maye'r haater chicken stew, with lots of kacaha pepe, capsicum and carrots...with a good squeeze of lemon again.
3. Holood ronger posto, which will induce me to sleep.
4. Any rokomer daal and rice, and boiled potatoes.
5. Amr grandmothere-JE KONO KICHHU RANNA...PULAO, chicken with spices, anything...okay, maybe a piece of mutton.
sob, sobby, sobbery...
Ami boro hoye shob ranna korbo...I can cook, and not too badly, or so I think and hope...I can cook machher jhol, I love pottering around in the kitchen,...I can cook yoghurt chicken...and I can bake...but will I have the time to cook every day given my AWFUL timings? Leave home...at 6...return at 7....work till eleven...cook ta korbo kokhon? No wonder no one cooks in this country...shobai food courter khabar khae...but it is hygeinic and safe...kintu not the same as home cooked food...but will I not be tired? But I think cooking can provide a welcome distraction too...i will boil lotsa vegetables and have the soup...hmmm...someday, I hope I have a partner who will help me out, and we can both amble around the kitchen <3...and we can pamper ourselves with comfort food...yummm...ekhon toh hostel-e thakchhi, cooking-er proshnoi othe na...roj canteen food.
2. Maye'r haater chicken stew, with lots of kacaha pepe, capsicum and carrots...with a good squeeze of lemon again.
3. Holood ronger posto, which will induce me to sleep.
4. Any rokomer daal and rice, and boiled potatoes.
5. Amr grandmothere-JE KONO KICHHU RANNA...PULAO, chicken with spices, anything...okay, maybe a piece of mutton.
sob, sobby, sobbery...
Ami boro hoye shob ranna korbo...I can cook, and not too badly, or so I think and hope...I can cook machher jhol, I love pottering around in the kitchen,...I can cook yoghurt chicken...and I can bake...but will I have the time to cook every day given my AWFUL timings? Leave home...at 6...return at 7....work till eleven...cook ta korbo kokhon? No wonder no one cooks in this country...shobai food courter khabar khae...but it is hygeinic and safe...kintu not the same as home cooked food...but will I not be tired? But I think cooking can provide a welcome distraction too...i will boil lotsa vegetables and have the soup...hmmm...someday, I hope I have a partner who will help me out, and we can both amble around the kitchen <3...and we can pamper ourselves with comfort food...yummm...ekhon toh hostel-e thakchhi, cooking-er proshnoi othe na...roj canteen food.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
From our other blog, http://diyamrin.blogspot.com/2012/03/revival.html
This blog needs to be revived ASAP...this very minute
Why? We miss it, and it needs more posts.
This blog was conceived one winter's evening, when Sacred Sprites and I were pretending to study for a test, (no, actually we always got a lot of work done together, we were very academically productive, weren't we?) at my place. My parents were not there. We were two un-moderated 'children,' around 2 and a bit years ago? Was it, sacred sprites? Okay, then we got hungry. We have always been a tad crazy. And so we got experimental. We snooped around the Dining table, and picked up an apple, which s--sprites quite adeptly cut into paper thin slices. Next, the fridge door was flung open by us, and out came the cheese. We promptly laced the apple slices with the cheese. Were we finished. Oh, not yet. Out came some pepper from a kitchen cupboard. And out came some Indonesian Nutmeg,which had been lying ignored for a while. Sprinkle we did, over the apples and oney, and quite liberally at that, may I add. Then what? You'd think these two crazy girrrrls would have been done by now...but no!!! We fished out some honey from the fridge and poured liberally, like up-turned sunshine...and then what did we do? We deliberated for a bit of course. And then we arranged the apples on a microwave-proof plate, and put in into the microwave oven, and warmed up our creation? How was the end result? What did it taste like? Ask the girls involved.
Why? We miss it, and it needs more posts.
This blog was conceived one winter's evening, when Sacred Sprites and I were pretending to study for a test, (no, actually we always got a lot of work done together, we were very academically productive, weren't we?) at my place. My parents were not there. We were two un-moderated 'children,' around 2 and a bit years ago? Was it, sacred sprites? Okay, then we got hungry. We have always been a tad crazy. And so we got experimental. We snooped around the Dining table, and picked up an apple, which s--sprites quite adeptly cut into paper thin slices. Next, the fridge door was flung open by us, and out came the cheese. We promptly laced the apple slices with the cheese. Were we finished. Oh, not yet. Out came some pepper from a kitchen cupboard. And out came some Indonesian Nutmeg,which had been lying ignored for a while. Sprinkle we did, over the apples and oney, and quite liberally at that, may I add. Then what? You'd think these two crazy girrrrls would have been done by now...but no!!! We fished out some honey from the fridge and poured liberally, like up-turned sunshine...and then what did we do? We deliberated for a bit of course. And then we arranged the apples on a microwave-proof plate, and put in into the microwave oven, and warmed up our creation? How was the end result? What did it taste like? Ask the girls involved.
what should I name this post?
Is there a difference between a professor and a teacher? I think a teacher does more hand-holding while a professor stimulates ideas in the mind. Teaching is recognized as a very meaningful and yet very demanding job here. We are assigned the posts of Civil Servants, and the profession is looked upon with respect.
This is something which has set me thinking for a while. My final posting is to a Junior College. It is equivalent to my A Levels, and roughly equivalent to the eleventh and twelfth standards of Indian schools, but not exactly. Here, Junior College life is more like College life. Admissions to these colleges are very competitive and very selective. The students are given a holistic pre-University college experience, and te academic levels are high...the Lit texts they read are quite demanding, ranging from Pinter to Jean Rhys.
When I first came here last March, I taught at a JC for 10 weeks. I took a class on Wide Sargasso Sea, and a lot of English classes and remedial lessons. I thoroughly enjoyed JC life...most of the students thought I was a new student as well, haha, but that was soon rectified. I will cherish those days forever. The memories will never leave me. The students were eager, willing t learn and very responsive. My colleagues were fabulous and very supportive. The canteen was exquisite and I loved a little cafe they had, it was so quaint, and the food so wholesome and comforting.
Then I made a whole host of RT (Relief Teacher) friends...I felt like I was 19/20 again. I was 23 last year, when I came here, and I felt caught in between my late adolescence and early adulthood. We went out to eat one day, in a big, big, group. We hit Orchard Road, and had a hearty meal at Fish and Co. My friends had ice-cream after that, but I obeyed my throat and refrained.
I will never forget how my friend Shuen, a very sweet girl, gifted me a pair of tottering high heels, because she thought that they suited the personality of a JC prof..haha, and I wore them, looked awkwardly tall, and almost fell down the stairs.
I remember how I went to watch Shakespeare in The Park, Macbeth, with my College, and the wonderful time I had there...I remember how lost I had felt on my very first day, but how things quickly fell into place. I can't believe it's been a year exactly, since I first stepped into that JC...so much has happened since...I have gone through my NIE training, and am doing practicum now...practicum is happening at a sECONDARY sCHOOL, BUT i HAVE WARMED UP TO THE STUDENTS NOW...I am having a great time with them now, but the work-load is quite a lot, and the hours are very long. I leave home, (read: Hall) at 6 and get back at about 7...
My final posting will be to a different JC...I had applied to teach there, as it is a very good and competitive place, and I feel blessed to have been selected...but I will miss teaching secondary school in more ways than one.
I am looking forward to May, when I will be free for a while...and then I'll be here for 3 more years, working for the JC...sometimes 3 years seems like a long period of time...I have told myself that after these years, I will not work such long hours. I am a very family oriented person. I will definitely work, but for much shorter hours. My dream of dreams is to pursue a part time PhD, write books and books of poetry and prose, and teach some part-time classes. But I want to be surrounded by my family and those whom I love. I will never stay alone like this again.
Not that I feel very lonely here. The people in Singapore are AWESOME. I would whole-heartedly recommend the place simply for the people here. The are so friendly, polite and warm-hearted. I have made a host of local friends here, at NIE, and have had so many interesting conversations with htem. I will be in touch with them forever.
I have also had the opportunity to do a VERY REWARDING SERVICE LEARNING PROJECT at NIE.
I miss Calcutta, but I love Singapore too. In Calcutta, I am still the child. In Singapore I have attained some modicum of maturity. Even when I leave this country, I will take some things with me. The art of being humane and polite seems ingrained in most people you will meet on the streets. I love their public transport system, their promotion of an active life-style, and their vast diversity of food culture. I love the fact that there are so many trees, and that every body works so hard. It is a stressful life I am leading now, but I do hope that in the 'long after-years,' this has become a favourite phrase of mine, I will look back upon this experience and smile.
Sometimes I feel like I could not have done what I am doing now without the absolute support of my family. They lov me so much. I am an only child. Yet, they let me come here, to pursue my dreams and fly high. That is what selfless love seems to be about...you need to love someone enough to let the person go and do something for him/herself, no matter how hard it is for both parties. I remember the part, in The Beauty and the Beast(one of my favourite movies of all time) when the Beast lets Belle leave, to meet her ailing father, even though he knows that if she leaves, the spell on him will never be broken. That, in my opinion, is the perfect example of selfless love.
What is my take on relationships? Well, I have NEVER been in one. Why? I want to love one person all my life, and I do not wish to dissipate my love indiscriminately. I do not believe in short, casual relationships AT ALL. I mean, all relationships involve risks, but at least the intentions should be earnest. If things still do not work out, things weren't meant to be. But I am very scared of a relationship NOT working out. Also, I am ultra cautious in these matters. I know that once I commit to someone, I will give 250% into the relationship. I will love with every square inch of my heart and soul. I don't want to get hurt. I believe a romantic relationship is sacred, and needs full commitment on both sides. And I am a very, very romantic person at heart...I think I will be quite the gushing, mushy type in love...let's see...
My favorite book series in the world is The Anne of Green Gables Series, by L,.M. mOTGOMERY...I GUSH ABOUT HER EVERY NOW AND THEN...I think I am very like Anne in some ways...I love the books, they are my guiding philosophies...
This is something which has set me thinking for a while. My final posting is to a Junior College. It is equivalent to my A Levels, and roughly equivalent to the eleventh and twelfth standards of Indian schools, but not exactly. Here, Junior College life is more like College life. Admissions to these colleges are very competitive and very selective. The students are given a holistic pre-University college experience, and te academic levels are high...the Lit texts they read are quite demanding, ranging from Pinter to Jean Rhys.
When I first came here last March, I taught at a JC for 10 weeks. I took a class on Wide Sargasso Sea, and a lot of English classes and remedial lessons. I thoroughly enjoyed JC life...most of the students thought I was a new student as well, haha, but that was soon rectified. I will cherish those days forever. The memories will never leave me. The students were eager, willing t learn and very responsive. My colleagues were fabulous and very supportive. The canteen was exquisite and I loved a little cafe they had, it was so quaint, and the food so wholesome and comforting.
Then I made a whole host of RT (Relief Teacher) friends...I felt like I was 19/20 again. I was 23 last year, when I came here, and I felt caught in between my late adolescence and early adulthood. We went out to eat one day, in a big, big, group. We hit Orchard Road, and had a hearty meal at Fish and Co. My friends had ice-cream after that, but I obeyed my throat and refrained.
I will never forget how my friend Shuen, a very sweet girl, gifted me a pair of tottering high heels, because she thought that they suited the personality of a JC prof..haha, and I wore them, looked awkwardly tall, and almost fell down the stairs.
I remember how I went to watch Shakespeare in The Park, Macbeth, with my College, and the wonderful time I had there...I remember how lost I had felt on my very first day, but how things quickly fell into place. I can't believe it's been a year exactly, since I first stepped into that JC...so much has happened since...I have gone through my NIE training, and am doing practicum now...practicum is happening at a sECONDARY sCHOOL, BUT i HAVE WARMED UP TO THE STUDENTS NOW...I am having a great time with them now, but the work-load is quite a lot, and the hours are very long. I leave home, (read: Hall) at 6 and get back at about 7...
My final posting will be to a different JC...I had applied to teach there, as it is a very good and competitive place, and I feel blessed to have been selected...but I will miss teaching secondary school in more ways than one.
I am looking forward to May, when I will be free for a while...and then I'll be here for 3 more years, working for the JC...sometimes 3 years seems like a long period of time...I have told myself that after these years, I will not work such long hours. I am a very family oriented person. I will definitely work, but for much shorter hours. My dream of dreams is to pursue a part time PhD, write books and books of poetry and prose, and teach some part-time classes. But I want to be surrounded by my family and those whom I love. I will never stay alone like this again.
Not that I feel very lonely here. The people in Singapore are AWESOME. I would whole-heartedly recommend the place simply for the people here. The are so friendly, polite and warm-hearted. I have made a host of local friends here, at NIE, and have had so many interesting conversations with htem. I will be in touch with them forever.
I have also had the opportunity to do a VERY REWARDING SERVICE LEARNING PROJECT at NIE.
I miss Calcutta, but I love Singapore too. In Calcutta, I am still the child. In Singapore I have attained some modicum of maturity. Even when I leave this country, I will take some things with me. The art of being humane and polite seems ingrained in most people you will meet on the streets. I love their public transport system, their promotion of an active life-style, and their vast diversity of food culture. I love the fact that there are so many trees, and that every body works so hard. It is a stressful life I am leading now, but I do hope that in the 'long after-years,' this has become a favourite phrase of mine, I will look back upon this experience and smile.
Sometimes I feel like I could not have done what I am doing now without the absolute support of my family. They lov me so much. I am an only child. Yet, they let me come here, to pursue my dreams and fly high. That is what selfless love seems to be about...you need to love someone enough to let the person go and do something for him/herself, no matter how hard it is for both parties. I remember the part, in The Beauty and the Beast(one of my favourite movies of all time) when the Beast lets Belle leave, to meet her ailing father, even though he knows that if she leaves, the spell on him will never be broken. That, in my opinion, is the perfect example of selfless love.
What is my take on relationships? Well, I have NEVER been in one. Why? I want to love one person all my life, and I do not wish to dissipate my love indiscriminately. I do not believe in short, casual relationships AT ALL. I mean, all relationships involve risks, but at least the intentions should be earnest. If things still do not work out, things weren't meant to be. But I am very scared of a relationship NOT working out. Also, I am ultra cautious in these matters. I know that once I commit to someone, I will give 250% into the relationship. I will love with every square inch of my heart and soul. I don't want to get hurt. I believe a romantic relationship is sacred, and needs full commitment on both sides. And I am a very, very romantic person at heart...I think I will be quite the gushing, mushy type in love...let's see...
My favorite book series in the world is The Anne of Green Gables Series, by L,.M. mOTGOMERY...I GUSH ABOUT HER EVERY NOW AND THEN...I think I am very like Anne in some ways...I love the books, they are my guiding philosophies...
Classsssss
Yes, I have been teaching, teaching and teaching. Romeo and Juliet is really very enjoyable to teach, I love the rapturous looks on the faces of the students, and the gender definitions which crop up even at this very young age. I was taught very differently from the way I am teaching. In CIS, the teaching was more frontal teaching, where Mrs. C. and Mrs. Chatterjee would transport us in to a different world, one of imagination, fantasy and alternate reality, simply by speaking to us and reading the texts with us. I loved the lessons there. Over here, I teach using power-point slides and trigger activities to generate discussion. These are very effective for the students I teach, who respond well to visual and verbal stimuli. I think they like having something to look at, some information to copy down, in order to revise later. In my own school, Literature operated at the intangible level of thoughts and very deep discussions, with less 'scaffolding.'I feel that both these approaches have positive aspects.
Yesterday, the Chinese girl Meiyu, (who has become a very good friend of mine, (we are working in the same school) and I ...we are also living in nearby Halls of Residence in NTU, went to pamper our souls with some Hong Kong desserts...food has really been a source of comfort in Singapore...I had this most delicious warm Almond and Sesame paste...we also shared this mango dessert with sticky rice wrapped around...yumm...I did not think I would enjoy the desserts as much as I did. I am more a cake and tea kind of person.
Being a Bangali, I am expected to love MISHTI and Bangali sweets...but I don't like Sandesh much, I find it dry...I am force-fed these widely acknowledged delicacies by my parents from time to time, every now and again. I love the dark sweet, called the Pantua tough...ouwch, I miss it now.
I love berries of all sorts...Blue-berry cheese-cake, strawberry short-cake, mmhmm...but can ANYTHING EVER beat CHOCOLATEEEEEEE?
Kookie Jar remains one of my most favourite bakeries till date...I miss all my birthday cakes from there...I will not be home for my birthday this year :((((((( waaahh, sob, sob, sobby some more...
A good night's sleep has made me feel slightly better today...let's hope this lasts...I have so much work to do, but obviously I am distracted atm, writing random, DESULTORY posts on my blog. My blog is becoming very possessive of me...or am I becoming possessed by my blog? Ke jaane?
Yesterday, the Chinese girl Meiyu, (who has become a very good friend of mine, (we are working in the same school) and I ...we are also living in nearby Halls of Residence in NTU, went to pamper our souls with some Hong Kong desserts...food has really been a source of comfort in Singapore...I had this most delicious warm Almond and Sesame paste...we also shared this mango dessert with sticky rice wrapped around...yumm...I did not think I would enjoy the desserts as much as I did. I am more a cake and tea kind of person.
Being a Bangali, I am expected to love MISHTI and Bangali sweets...but I don't like Sandesh much, I find it dry...I am force-fed these widely acknowledged delicacies by my parents from time to time, every now and again. I love the dark sweet, called the Pantua tough...ouwch, I miss it now.
I love berries of all sorts...Blue-berry cheese-cake, strawberry short-cake, mmhmm...but can ANYTHING EVER beat CHOCOLATEEEEEEE?
Kookie Jar remains one of my most favourite bakeries till date...I miss all my birthday cakes from there...I will not be home for my birthday this year :((((((( waaahh, sob, sob, sobby some more...
A good night's sleep has made me feel slightly better today...let's hope this lasts...I have so much work to do, but obviously I am distracted atm, writing random, DESULTORY posts on my blog. My blog is becoming very possessive of me...or am I becoming possessed by my blog? Ke jaane?
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Have I changed?
I was perusing my blog. March Suns is clinging on to me today. It is just not letting go off me. The minute I come back to my office after lessons, it is coaxing m to type something out. I am not in the 'writerly' mood now. I cannot expect to write well, when there are a million unrelated thoughts buzzing and milling in my mind. Now, I've gone and made my mind sound like a teeming bee-hive. How awful!
My staff-room is lovely. All the practicum trainees are warm and wonderful, and very helpful.
After a hard day at work, I return to what I have named Lazy-Land, aka the campus, as I am still living in my Hall of Residence.
Hall of Residence 8. What does it mean for me now? What will it mean to me many years hence? Besides being as pretty as a picture post-card, and as steep as a hill, it has many other little connections with me. There is the Games Room, where I validate my room key every week. With its enormous TV i never get to watch. There are the flights and flights of steps I have to climb up and down every day. There is the pantrY where I go, to fill my water bottle. There is my room, a shared double room, where I have wrapped up my life in one corner. There is the view from the window, of verdant trees and the parking lot. There is the fake-wood floor, which I sweep every now and then. There are the white cupboards, there is the big, roomy desk, and the most comfortable bed ever...then there are the myriad drawers, into which I have compartmentalized my life...the one with the detergent, the one with the hand-cream, the one with my books.
Why am I writing all this? To chronicle, of course. When my memory plays tricks on me as the years pass, if it ever does, the little details will not slip me by. Sometimes I wonder how the grains of time, have slipped like sand, through my fingers. I want to go to Puri. I love the atmosphere of the place.
Uh oh, there goes the bell...CLASS
My staff-room is lovely. All the practicum trainees are warm and wonderful, and very helpful.
After a hard day at work, I return to what I have named Lazy-Land, aka the campus, as I am still living in my Hall of Residence.
Hall of Residence 8. What does it mean for me now? What will it mean to me many years hence? Besides being as pretty as a picture post-card, and as steep as a hill, it has many other little connections with me. There is the Games Room, where I validate my room key every week. With its enormous TV i never get to watch. There are the flights and flights of steps I have to climb up and down every day. There is the pantrY where I go, to fill my water bottle. There is my room, a shared double room, where I have wrapped up my life in one corner. There is the view from the window, of verdant trees and the parking lot. There is the fake-wood floor, which I sweep every now and then. There are the white cupboards, there is the big, roomy desk, and the most comfortable bed ever...then there are the myriad drawers, into which I have compartmentalized my life...the one with the detergent, the one with the hand-cream, the one with my books.
Why am I writing all this? To chronicle, of course. When my memory plays tricks on me as the years pass, if it ever does, the little details will not slip me by. Sometimes I wonder how the grains of time, have slipped like sand, through my fingers. I want to go to Puri. I love the atmosphere of the place.
Uh oh, there goes the bell...CLASS
...
I hope I ever become a cynic. I hope I never become the kind of person who is not appreciative of everything all around. Appreciation of the littl things of life is the most important of all. I hope I don't give up on my habit of trusting people easily. But I will never give up being cautious. Specially in some significantly significant matters. You are better safe than sorry. And I still believe that golden dreams are better than a very cruel reality. I have waited so long, and I can wait longer. Forever.
Sleeping late and awaking at the wee sma's
I hope this kind of schedule does not do bad things to my system in the long run...but oh well, this won't last forever...I have a formal lesson observation in a couple of minutes. I am soothing my nervous fingers through typing. Teaching is one of the most taxing and demanding jobs on the planet. More so if you are always on task, alert and occupied, making lesson plans, creating resources, and of course conveying information in a simplified manner. I would think teaching higher levels is always easier...you do not have to modify your content knowledge to a comprehensible level.
But teaching is one of the most rewarding and necessary jobs on the planet. A teacher does teach every other profession. So, as the PhD beckons, I will cast it aside for a while. I have made up my mind to pursue a part-time PhD. No rush. I will banish the word RUSH from my dictionary. I will do things I love at the slow, leisurely pace of a lazily ambling horse. Okay, maybe I will trot about sometimes, but I shall never canter. As I type this out, I know that I'm speaking too soon.
Poetry and Prose will be my ever-long companions.
But teaching is one of the most rewarding and necessary jobs on the planet. A teacher does teach every other profession. So, as the PhD beckons, I will cast it aside for a while. I have made up my mind to pursue a part-time PhD. No rush. I will banish the word RUSH from my dictionary. I will do things I love at the slow, leisurely pace of a lazily ambling horse. Okay, maybe I will trot about sometimes, but I shall never canter. As I type this out, I know that I'm speaking too soon.
Poetry and Prose will be my ever-long companions.
some day
Some day, like Anne Shirley, I can call this phase an "Epoch in my life." I am being incessantly challenged to do that which I never thought I would be capable of doing. But I do realize that a trying period serves to strengthen one, in the long run. My scatter-brained self is being forced into an organised mode, of better time management and self-discipline. In long after years, maybe I will lie silently in bed, and recall this phase, how crazy and anxious I felt, how inefficient I felt, and how I worked hard on my short-comings.
I was speaking to one of my best friends from College, about how University was really a honeymoon phase, with extra shots of honey and a lot of moon-shine. I mean, I studied a subject I am in LOVE with..LIT.everyday was like a Revelation, like a new phase of a long lasting love-bond.
Today, I feel elated...elation has come, if a little belated.
I taught a young class, of impressionable minds, about the wonders of Shakespeare. Yes, William has ALWAYS been a firm friend, he has never let me down, and he didn't today.
During my O Levels, his lines were inspiration enough for me to look at life with the eyes of a bright, bright bird...oh the thrills his poetry gave me...his plays were so wonderful..."parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good-night till it be morrow." How lovely. R and J is still my favorite play. I've had to read so many plays after that, but this one is unparalleled in its use of language.
The only play I don't like that much is Measure for Measure...it is indeed a "problem play," in the deepest sense of the term.
I am taking a break from my work as I write this. Writing is really therapeutic. It does what the Coolness of a Mother's hand can do to a hot, fevered fore-head of a sick child.
I miss home. But I firmly believe that this 'Rite of Passage' was necessary. It has helped me grow, in ways that will show in later years. Hopefully.
I am contemplating that elusive yet inevitable PhD...Keats? Shakespeare? Post -colonial? I still cannot decide, but I do think that I will settle on poetry in the end.
Teaching Secondary school makes me feel more grounded. It has really brought me down from the Ivory Tower of Lit. I occupied. Why yes, I cannot deny that Lit majors do live in some sort of Utopic world of Ideal Seclusion. Here, I am challenged by real people, real situations. Literature is ALSO about reality. It is one of the most REAL subjects I know. But vicarious thrills are different from real ones. I must add that all thrills are not pleasant.
I was going mad the other day, reminiscing about Chemistry. Though this does sound ODD, I feel that Chemistry is one of the most romantic subjects ever. I love the way in which chemical bonds can be explained. Even the most inanimate of chairs consists of firmly bonded molecules and atoms. And not everything can bond with everything else. No there are rules, preferences, affiliations. wow. And the Periodic Table Sigh. My fervent desire is to have a wall in my room, wall-papered with the Periodic Table. :))
I miss curling up at home, with a nice pillow to hug, reading, reading and reading. I miss sudden phone calls from my University friends, coaxing me to join them for a walk. I miss seeing my parents and grad-parents every day. I miss all this too intensely sometimes. The intensity threatens to choke and overpower, but I am trying to over-power it.
Whta else? I saw a doctor about the cold I caught, and am feeling much better, though I am yelling meself hoarse in mst of the classes. I still have lesson plans to work on and finish.
And Sigh, what else? Lots more? Nothing else? I don't know...sometimes I feel so confused, so lost. At other moments, I see sparks of light at the end of the tunnel. But does the tunnel even have an end? Where does the tunnel lead to. Most importantly, what is the tunnel? Is it a symbol? Basically, writing is my way of talking to myself, in the absence of my besties.
But I must say that I AM VERY GRATEFUL for all the new friends I have made here.
I was speaking to one of my best friends from College, about how University was really a honeymoon phase, with extra shots of honey and a lot of moon-shine. I mean, I studied a subject I am in LOVE with..LIT.everyday was like a Revelation, like a new phase of a long lasting love-bond.
Today, I feel elated...elation has come, if a little belated.
I taught a young class, of impressionable minds, about the wonders of Shakespeare. Yes, William has ALWAYS been a firm friend, he has never let me down, and he didn't today.
During my O Levels, his lines were inspiration enough for me to look at life with the eyes of a bright, bright bird...oh the thrills his poetry gave me...his plays were so wonderful..."parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good-night till it be morrow." How lovely. R and J is still my favorite play. I've had to read so many plays after that, but this one is unparalleled in its use of language.
The only play I don't like that much is Measure for Measure...it is indeed a "problem play," in the deepest sense of the term.
I am taking a break from my work as I write this. Writing is really therapeutic. It does what the Coolness of a Mother's hand can do to a hot, fevered fore-head of a sick child.
I miss home. But I firmly believe that this 'Rite of Passage' was necessary. It has helped me grow, in ways that will show in later years. Hopefully.
I am contemplating that elusive yet inevitable PhD...Keats? Shakespeare? Post -colonial? I still cannot decide, but I do think that I will settle on poetry in the end.
Teaching Secondary school makes me feel more grounded. It has really brought me down from the Ivory Tower of Lit. I occupied. Why yes, I cannot deny that Lit majors do live in some sort of Utopic world of Ideal Seclusion. Here, I am challenged by real people, real situations. Literature is ALSO about reality. It is one of the most REAL subjects I know. But vicarious thrills are different from real ones. I must add that all thrills are not pleasant.
I was going mad the other day, reminiscing about Chemistry. Though this does sound ODD, I feel that Chemistry is one of the most romantic subjects ever. I love the way in which chemical bonds can be explained. Even the most inanimate of chairs consists of firmly bonded molecules and atoms. And not everything can bond with everything else. No there are rules, preferences, affiliations. wow. And the Periodic Table Sigh. My fervent desire is to have a wall in my room, wall-papered with the Periodic Table. :))
I miss curling up at home, with a nice pillow to hug, reading, reading and reading. I miss sudden phone calls from my University friends, coaxing me to join them for a walk. I miss seeing my parents and grad-parents every day. I miss all this too intensely sometimes. The intensity threatens to choke and overpower, but I am trying to over-power it.
Whta else? I saw a doctor about the cold I caught, and am feeling much better, though I am yelling meself hoarse in mst of the classes. I still have lesson plans to work on and finish.
And Sigh, what else? Lots more? Nothing else? I don't know...sometimes I feel so confused, so lost. At other moments, I see sparks of light at the end of the tunnel. But does the tunnel even have an end? Where does the tunnel lead to. Most importantly, what is the tunnel? Is it a symbol? Basically, writing is my way of talking to myself, in the absence of my besties.
But I must say that I AM VERY GRATEFUL for all the new friends I have made here.
Monday, March 19, 2012
RANT ANGRY RANT
i AM TIRED OF EXPLAINING TO PEOPLE THAT EVEN THOUGH I LOVE WRITING 'SAD LOVE POETRY,' I HAVE NEVER BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP...A BIT OF IMAGINATION CAN MAKE ONE EMPATHIZE WITH THE MOST BROKEN- HEARTED OF PEOPLE...I HOPE NOBODY ELSE ASKS ME: "Diya, are you okay?" To which I reply with a bewildered "WHY?" and to which they say,"Oh your poems are so sad, they talk so passionately about sadness in love." And then there are so many people who will go on to say: "Who would have thought you can write such sad poetry? You are always so happy and cheerful. Do you harbor hurt inside?" PLEASE!! GUYS, writers are meant to be imaginative beings.
I don't have to explain this to my close friends and family who know me, thank Heavens.
THE POEM WHICH I WROTE TO TRIGGER OFF THE REACTIONS:
Tonight I'll let you go,
Though you were never mine;
Tonight we're on our own, yet
I know that you'll be fine.
Tonight I heave a sigh,
As my green-dreams pass me by;
Silently disillusioned, I cry,
"Oh Dreams, you lie, you lie."
Tonight my eyes are wet,
But my mind is firm and set;
For, wait a while yet I won't
Since none of my needs were met.
(Just because I didn't have many,
Doesn't mean that I don't have any.)
Tonight I'm just, well, sad;
Though I have reasons to be glad;
There are so many more people to add,
On to the list of friends I've had.
Soon my eyes will be dry,
I'll no longer need to cry,
I'll no longer question "Why?",
As the days will pass me by.
They say Time heals all,
Even skin-marks left by a fall.
But Time alone will tell,
If it can mend a broken heart well.
Tonight I've set you free,
Will you never think of me?
Tonight I've let you go,
Though you were never mine.
Tonight we're on our own,
Will I really be fine?
I don't have to explain this to my close friends and family who know me, thank Heavens.
THE POEM WHICH I WROTE TO TRIGGER OFF THE REACTIONS:
Tonight I'll let you go,
Though you were never mine;
Tonight we're on our own, yet
I know that you'll be fine.
Tonight I heave a sigh,
As my green-dreams pass me by;
Silently disillusioned, I cry,
"Oh Dreams, you lie, you lie."
Tonight my eyes are wet,
But my mind is firm and set;
For, wait a while yet I won't
Since none of my needs were met.
(Just because I didn't have many,
Doesn't mean that I don't have any.)
Tonight I'm just, well, sad;
Though I have reasons to be glad;
There are so many more people to add,
On to the list of friends I've had.
Soon my eyes will be dry,
I'll no longer need to cry,
I'll no longer question "Why?",
As the days will pass me by.
They say Time heals all,
Even skin-marks left by a fall.
But Time alone will tell,
If it can mend a broken heart well.
Tonight I've set you free,
Will you never think of me?
Tonight I've let you go,
Though you were never mine.
Tonight we're on our own,
Will I really be fine?
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