14th May 2011

Note to Readers: As you may probably have realized, my blog is undergoing an identity crisis as it tries to figure out what future path it has to take- a personal diary of random thoughts and rantings, a letter to friends in another place and time, a 'what not to do in grad school' guide,  a boy bashing forum or a selective coolness showcase to the selective few i want to either impress or piss off. In this confusing period, while it undertakes psychometric evaluations and career counselling, let us draw forth on our well of patience and understanding and give it room to explore its options with the hope that some day organization and structure shall be imposed on this chaotic child of thought.

Now for the customary paragraph on nostalgia. Walking back from a project discussion listening to stairway in heaven, I thought back of all the other times I have listened to this song in the last couple of months- curling up in the guest bed in my grandfather's house, crying into strange pillows over relationships lost and ended; walking home at twilight shaking with cold and the passion of the last few chords wondering if things would ever improve and if anything even matters; sitting in the library staring blankly at the laptop. Everytime I've wondered if I would reach this place where I am not, where I can be sure of what the next few days would hold, what the next few months would hold, searching for some certainty life wouldn't give. And now looking back, walking down nearly empty roads faintly smelling of perfumes and sounding of high heels on a Friday summer's night, the memories make me smile with acknowledgement. And gratitude. Storms are nicer looking back on.

Graduations happen all around me. Every weekend I see pictures of robes and hats and smiling happy faces on Facebook. And I feel so so jealous. Someday... someday.... 

I seem to play the "What was I doing this day last year?" game a lot these days. There is something comforting about summers. Something comforting and restful and full of hope. It makes you feel like you're a kid again- the little girl in grandma's house making up fantasy lands as the adults slept.

Its funny how much time you have to think nostalgic thoughts when you only have enough time to do your projects.

While we are on the topic of thinking inappropriate thoughts at inappropriate times, classes seem to stimulate more than their fair share of realizations these days. Just the other day, I was auditing an undergrad class when I realized that everyone else in the class had probably had sex. And that was enough to make me feel old and depressed the rest of the day. Even a good overdose of Cosmo tips after couldnt restore my mood. Graduate classes with their saturated Asian international student population are comforting. Undergrad classes with their over-inquisitive, hyper-energetic, hormone-driven teenage communities unnerve me. And incur in me a recurring need to check my hair for split ends.

I am all excited about visiting India in a couple of months. Already I am making plans in my head. My friends do their righteous best to not let me get too excited, but this time even their dampness cant kill my joy. At the same time, the prospect of seeing old friends scares me. Some people i am closer to now. Some people I can no longer relate to. Some people I'd rather not meet at all. I wonder how close reality will come to expectations, if ever it could. But we're still young enough to say, this has got to be the good life, this could really be the good life.

Sleep beckons. Dreams call. A nightwalker's tale pauses. And you, to you I will say goodnight.