I was 12 years old and she was in my class. She was barely scraping through from year to year, struggling with every subject. I don't think she had any friends. She probably hated coming to school and we didn't help. I remember girls seeing lice in her hair sometimes and snickering behind her back. I remember when we went on class trips she would be sitting alone. Most of us had friends we wanted to sit next to and chatter away but no one wanted to sit next to her. I remember trying to explain to her the difference between singular and plural once. I was scandalised she was in 6th grade and didn't know. And I remember not being patient. I don't think any of my teachers were patient with her. Occassionally when I wasn't so caught up in my own world I would feel bad for her but I never did much about it. Today, I wish I had. I wish I'd made a difference.


There were many such students in my class and we weren't nice to any of them. Children are an odd mix of compassion and cruelty. While they don't see the differences we do sometimes, on other occassions they react with undue harshness to these very differences. I was never really mean to her but I was never more than polite. I don't think I ever really wanted to be her friend. But I wanted her to know I was nice for my sake. I couldn't stand being downright rude or mean to anyone so I tried to help when I could and I was polite. But she needed a friend. A voice to speak up for her and I wish I did. 


I don't know what demons she was fighting. Family, disorders or circumstance. But I wish we hadn't added to it. 


And I'd like to say I'm sorry. 10 years later as I sit here thinking, I wish I'd had a little more courage. Just a tad bit. 

I just can't help it

I just can't let some things be. There will be a constant nagging inside if I do.


I just submitted a report for one of my modules. I am not required to give extra time for it. The prof clearly said we can choose how much time we want to devote it. I chose not to devote a lot of it. At this point I don't care about the grade and I have too many things on my plate. Does that mean I stop caring? No. I just can't help it. When I'm the one editing the final report I can't help correcting every last grammatical error. I can't help making sure each sentence sounds good. I can't help check the spaces and the formatting. I can't help but check the font!! I don't want to. My mind is telling me to stop the madness but I still do it. There is no way I can hit submit knowing something wasn't right. It still irks me that i didn't size every one of the pictures perfectly. And I just remembered the citations are messed up and I will definitely go back to correct them! Much as I would like to not do that!


You know what! I just can't help it. Like I can't help so many other things. I can't help relapsing once in a while. Keeping a count of how many days. Wishing and wondering. 

Maybe I have a disorder. Who am I kidding? I have a disorder and I need help y'all. 

Growing up

I love public speaking. Always have. Since I was 7 and took part in the Ram Krishna Ashram elocution competition. That rush of adenaline before you speak in front of an audience. The butterflies in your stomach and yet the excitement. It's an amazing feeling. The love for the stage and the mic. I miss it. All of it. And I hope it's not too late to go back to it soon. 


Is that a part of growing up? Do we sometimes leave behind things we once loved unknowingly? Leave parts of you behind that soon become fond memories you talk about lost in growing up. Caught up in the throes of life we let things once important slip by. Every once in a while as I ponder over what lies ahead I question the choices I've made. While I'm not disappointed with where I am right now I do regret some choices. Things I could've done. And regret is one of the ugliest feelings. It's that sinking in your stomach made so much worse by the helplessness, the knowledge that you can't go back. But what you can do is make sure you pick every shell that catches your fancy as you walk along the sandy beaches of life. Occasionally a wave comes along and some are washed away. But that's okay coz up ahead there lie a few more.


I am at one of the most exciting but scary as shit places in my life. If my life was a novel this would be the beginning of Book 2. Not just a new chapter but a new book. A new book filled with new places and new people but the same old me with new aspirations and goals. New promises and new challenges. I had a plan. That plan changed and I don't know if I am on track. 


But now I have a new list. A list of all I want to do and be. And a new plan. I don't know if 10 years from today how far along this plan I'll be but I sure as hell am going to try. And public speaking definitely is on the list. What is life afterall without hope and excitement? 

Life and such

It's a crazy time of the semester. Deadlines, submissions, projects, assignments and tests looming one over the other. Sometimes I can't keep track of just what is due when and struggle to knock one down after the other. Its like the shooting games you play. Just when you kill one zombie running towards you there are other two coming from the back and eventually one of them gets to you or you keep up the fight till the end of the level. 


When the semester started I had this crazy fear. This panic in my guts that didn't seem to go away as I saw what lay ahead and wondered if I would keep up. Two months have gone by. One day at a time. One step at a time. A blurry countdown. Now it's less than two months away. The end of an era. The book 2 of my life. But I think I am happy. That panic that seemed to loom over me is not there much. Sure, there's more on my plate than I can handle. Coupled with work it's a big surprise I'm not going nuts. Maybe I am. 


It's a beautiful day and great weather. And today, I can sit here and appreciate that. A small smile on my face.


Happiness is a funny thing. I've come to believe that the purpose of life is to be happy. And yet everyone has a different answer to "what makes you happy?" How do you chase something when you have no directions? All I know is what clouds over my happiness. And for now I am hoping to fight for light through those clouds. We all do. Some of us find it and others keep looking for it.


Meanwhile, I find my dose of happiness in a cup of coffee. A good movie and a good song. A bright shiny morning and the dozen little things that make me smile through life. 

Honesty

As I read through the pages of Brooke Farmer over a considerable part of yesterday I realised something. The common thing about all my favourite bloggers is the fact that they are brutally honest about themselves and their lives and I value that. It's a part of what makes them awesome.


I have always shied from that. Baring my soul to leave exposed the very vulnerable parts of me. My fears, anxieties, beliefs, aspirations and everything that digs a hole in the core of who I am. To discuss that on a blog that I protected from ever being found seemed inconceivable. Still seems. The few times I crave to let those feelings surface I prefer shooting arrows in the dark. I disguise them in the cloak of vagueness and hope no one ever sees them from what they are. In fact, I have probably mastered the act of doing so. How people discuss love and heartbreak, fears and despair, the past and the baggage is beyond me! And, even as I type this I know to most I sound crazy for I see no rational reason myself! Protect myself from hurt? Maybe. The safety of the dark? Maybe. Trust? I don't know. Honestly these are the common reasons anyone would venture and I wouldn't know what applies to me.

This is not to say I lie. (Well, I'm sure I've told that occasional lie but you know what I mean) Every opinion on this blog holds. Or at least did when I wrote it though I may have reformed some of my views. And yet, as of today I've shared the link with very few people. The fear of approval that I refuse to accept. That struggle between not wanting to be judged and yet being okay with the judgment. The fear of opening up more than I want. Isn't it better to hide? 

As I read these blogs I can't help but ask myself will I ever get where these bloggers are? Is it courage I need? Courage to tell the random reader what I fought with, what I achieved, what are my insecurities and what I am proud of. More importantly, do I want to?

When I started writing, I didn't want to spill my life on an online public diary. A few years after this journey started I am ready to make a change. Or at least try to(Clearly I still need that refuge of shooting arrows in the dark)!