The Deaf New Year

The December to January change is always very unsettling. There’s something about the FIFO model of the months that reminds me of Coding. You know, memories that haunt you even years down the line - failing your Computer Science pre-board exam and then deciding to join an IT company a few years later.

So you ask yourself - Is this a pattern? Disliking something but ending up doing it. Like wanting to live with your parents...at 26. My brother and I waking up every day to "you two are useless" as if I was ever expected to carry out my room shelf dusting.

So after a while you just become immune, to insults, to blame games, and what really makes you happy is knowing you have the power to irritate another person, 'cause you know them too well and can play on their insecurities the same way they've been doing it on you all this while. (HBO's In Treatment has been playing a huge role in transferring my incapabilities onto my parents. Brilliant show, that.)

The New Year didn't start with a bang but more like a bust. OK not *that* bust but you know what I mean. It would be quite accurate to call the 1st of January an epic fail, quite like the double D's of trouble really. (In other news, a university in Boston has banned the words "facebook", "Google", "viral", "epic" and "fail" when used as verbs. Reminds me of the time "maverick" made it to a similar global list a few years back which somehow still that hasn't stopped my colleagues from using it profusely) All this is funny 'cause only last week I had started to get a little bored of my settled, peaceful life. If "Trouble" wasn't my middle name, "Messy" surely is. But the good news is that things can only look up from there. So excitement, adrenalin and most importantly, lots and lots of financial help are imperative. At least for what I have planned.

Or lack thereof.

Considering what an experimentative one last year was, claiming to top it would be a tall order. But never say never when you can always say always. I know for sure Woody Allen would go "tsk, tsk" reading this after I tell him his book I was reading in the morning inspired this post. He’d rather it expired. Here.

Anyway as I hope to move out of my place I look at what all I can really do in Delhi with no more curfews and total freedom. We built Bombay city on Rock and Roll, however this one is built more on Rape and Rolling. And the martyrs’ names from India Gate have magically disappeared but that might be because I wasn't wearing my lenses the last time I visited.

I was thinking what makes you really bad. Not bad in a bad way, but bad in an attractive way. Does getting a tattoo or two really permanently ink your badness? Or being thrown out of class for deliberate unruly behavior when the rest are being good kids, doodling and silently hoping for the clock ticks to gain a little tempo? Or if the number of people you've slept with can’t be counted on just one hand? Manson-like Gothicism? (Whatever it is, it will definitely never be an obsession with the Twilight series) Making depressing poetry seem fashionable? Or when you try to break out of societal rules that have become outdated?

Now the last might be very subjective but not when people are still living in the 70s and aren't even donning polka dotted frocks, head bands and flowers in their hair. Not fair. Especially when your life is playing out like an unfunny sitcom. And in a shudder you realize, though you lost your adolescence a long time back, adulthood is just striking you in the ass. And all you can do is look back at your life and say to yourself "Hey, looks like you already have plenty stories to tell your grandchildren. Time to get your act together"

But do we ever learn? At least *I* hope not!

Happy New Ear y’all. Be deaf to others and do what you want.