Things

Dear Zonk,

I don’t really have that much to say, but it’s been a while. So, hello. I hope you’ve been okay.

Here’s a link to something nice someone showed me recently. And here’s a link to something else that it reminded me of. Also, I bought 2 new flowering plants today. They aren’t very good looking flowers but they are flowers all the same. And they are supposed to not die in shade. Let’s hope they do well in my sunless house.

I have big things planned for next week. A new post elsewhere on the internet (if it actually happens, then I’ll share the link with you soon) and living room makeover planning. Writing that sentence also reminded me that I’ve still not taken any pictures of my now completely redone Room. It’s way overdue now. I mean, the most photogenic of my plants has already died and been replaced. But oh well. I really don’t take good pictures of Room.

Anyway, I’m off to find a new book to read. Be brave. Be  good. Do as you would be done by. Be done by as you should.

10 points to you if you get the reference in the last two lines. (I changed it just a bit. Just enought to rhyme.)

Love always,
K.

Magnetic Poetry

My sister got me a magnetic poetry kit for my birthday. It arrived yesterday, and I worked at it for over two hours today.
Here’s my first magnet poem. I ran out of some words, and a lot of other words were completely missing.
Oh well. I think I’m going to keep these short from now on. I’ll get better eventually :)

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Also. I’m sorry about the terrible image. I can’t seem to take a better one and it’s too late in the day to photoshop.

Goodnight, Zonk.

Love always,
K.

You Only Turn 26 Once

Dear Zonk,

I never thought I’d turn 26. But I did. And it was awesome.

I’ve been writing a long and serious post for days now, about growing up and growing older and pictures and pixels and being in the wrong place, but it doesn’t seem to fit my mood anymore. I’m happy, Zonk. This was easily one of the best birthdays yet (which is saying something, because I always have awesome birthdays.) I got a lot of lovely things. Cake face. A new everyday ring. Pajamas and socks and sweaters and Urban Ladder vouchers and a mystery gift that I must travel in time and space to reach and a telescope and a ukulele named Yuki Potato. It’s nice to have a ukulele, Zonk. It’s small and it’s simple and it always sounds sweet. And if you think about it, that’s all an instrument really needs to be.

My birthday happened on an inconvenient day bang in the middle of the week. And everyone still turned up and everything was perfect and simple and nice.

I feel richer today by far.

Love always,
K.

The Birthday List

Edit: I have complaints about this list being too short. So I’ve added 2 more things to it. Let me know if you want to get me anything from this and I’ll cancel it out.

The wishlist comes late this year.
Thing is, it didn’t occur to me that my birthday is next week. I like birthdays, Zonk. I like the anticipation and the waiting and the opening of gifts. I like cake. I like feeling special for a day.

And yet, somehow, I almost sort of forgot. I suppose it has something to do with turning 26. Time must feel so much more finite on the other side of 25. And numbers begin to mean sad and scary things.

I might be more enthusiastic about all of this tomorrow. Today, I am tired and morose and I really need to sleep. But I worked hard on my list and I’m happy with how it turned out.

And so, here it is.

A list of things I want and (perhaps) need -

Winnie the Pooh! The book. Not a stuffed bear.

Jeans

A backpack. Smallish and light. Dark on the outside and bright on the inside. Many compartments. I need to be present for this purchase because backpacks are important and hard to get right.

Forgive me, Leonard Peacock by Matthew Quick

Magnetic poetry. Because I have steel cupboards now and I think they need some poetry.

Magnets. Brightly coloured wooden ones. Matte finish, maybe.

Calvin and Hobbes pajamas.

Any nice book. These days I’m reading young adult and books about mediocre or broken people and everyday things. I’m not sure how to explain. Maybe my Goodreads activity would help.

An XKCD Book. I think there are two out there.

A book by Shayne Koyczan. Because I’ve never come across writing that gives me goosebumps so unfailingly.

That’s all for now. And I’m sorry not to have made a proper bulleted list. But I write most of this on the bus and the WordPress phone app has no lists. What a terrible oversight.

Love always,
K.

I am the most creepily productive person you know this weekend.

In the last three days, I have -

  • Practised violin every day, clocking in almost an hour in total. I have also composed my first violin bit that is not supremely simplistic. (I can’t play it yet on account of its being harder than I can manage now.)
  • Gone Diwali shopping. This takes hours, given the growing size of my family.
  • Gotten shit fixed at home (blinds, new light, hanging of painting)
  • Cleaned out my closet
  • Done research on new blogging platforms (Medium) and decided to stick with WordPress for my upcoming project.
  • Not slept in the afternoons at all.

I got home from my sister’s house right now, abandoned my plan to make a mug brownie, and planned instead to start on The Violin Project (more about this later), and understand and Caliber and start using it and make this post about how fucking productive I’ve been.

But then I realised that I can’t possibly do all of that in the new few hours and that I’m being absurdly hyper and I don’t know why. I’m jumpy and I’m buzzing and I’m bouncing off the walls. I think maybe it’s because I’ve been trying to play an upbeat tune all day. Maybe this is why I stick to gloomy instead.

I think all this excitement is creepy. The last time I went overboard and did too many things in too little time, I woke up shivering and feverish in the night. And, I already have a cold this weekend.

So, in the interest of behaving like a more balanced human being, I have made myself some camomile tea and I’m forcing myself to type this post up slowly.  Also, I will start  looking at Caliber today, but I don’t have to begin using it yet. And the Violin Project can wait till another day.

I’ll go now. Pack up my violin and watch Caliber demos and download some sitcoms for later tonight.

Tomorrow’s Monday. I should be depressed by now and it’s weird that I’m not. I’m going to go try rectify that.

Bye bye bye.

PS. I forgot to say – I also washed a stuffed dog and a duck.

The Joy Luck Club

I think about Bing, how I knew he was in danger, how I let it happen. I think about my marriage, how I had seen the signs, really I had. But I just let it happen. And I think how fate is shaped half by expectation, half by inattention. But somehow, when you lose something you love, faith takes over. You have to pay attention to what you lost. You have to undo the expectation.

- Amy Tan

Just so you know -

You take your laptop’s lid for granted.

Yes, you do. The lid and the hinges and the screen and the frame type thing on the front (it’s called a bezel, fyi) and the way it aligns neatly with the base when you close it. You take your laptop’s very ability to close for granted. You think it’s a straightforward, uncomplicated piece of machinery. A lid that drops neatly when you power off or sleep. You think it’s a given. A constant. An unchallengable.

Well.

You’re wrong. It’s not. And I’ve learnt this the hard way.

At some point in the past, I noticed that my laptop’s lid felt weird and sort of loose. I ignored it. Because you know, lid. Who gives a fuck. It kept getting looser. I kept opening it and shutting it with nary a thought. And then came the day when I couldn’t shut it right. Things creaked and crackled and the lid swelled up at the hinge every time I forced it shut. I freaked out, Zonk. I panicked. I became a ball of nerves. I wrapped my laptop in a clean sheet and placed it between two pillows* in a bag and rushed it to the service center. The diagnosis was grim.

My laptop needed new innards.

Outards, actually. I had to get a new bezel, top cover and hinges. And because my warranty has expired, I had to cough up 5000 bucks upfront. So I called my sister and she coughed up the money and I placed my order and waited for the new parts to arrive. And waited. And waited. And waited some more. It took ages to get them here. Probably because Dell support sucks once you’re out of warranty. But oh well.

In the meantime, I kept watching fucking Gilmore Girls for want of something better. And my lid kept getting weaker. Eventually, it died, and I had to shut my laptop for good.

Have you ever spent a long weekend without a computer, Zonk? Can you even imagine spending three? You probably can’t. And I hope you never have to. Because I did and it was ghastly. *shudders*

That’s all behind me now, though. The engineer finally arrived today, with parts and tools and surgical intent. He took stuff apart and then put it all together again and left me with a working laptop and a working lid and I have never been so grateful before.

Interestingly, my laptop stopped being able to shut around the same time that I stopped being able to move my head. The hinge and the disc seemed to have slipped at the same time. Perhaps we are connected in ways I cannot comprehend.

In any case, I’m just here to tell you – don’t take your laptop lid for granted. Or your neck.

Love always,
K.

PS: Really don’t take your neck for granted. A new one would be a lot costlier than 5000 bucks. And considerably rarer as well.

Labels

I’m in the bus right now, and when I look out I can see into the back of a car. There’s a small stuffed bear in this car, with all its parts labeled. Hand. Tummy. Ear.

Sleeping on my bed at home is a big floppy stuffed dog that I once got for my sister. Stitched into its side is an orange patch shaped like a bone, and on it, the word “dog”.

A lot of my nephew’s toys are like this. It reminds me of crayons in boxes. Simple and labeled and separate. And it makes me wonder why and at what point the labels disappear. I’m older now, and wiser, and I can name all the parts of a stuffed bear’s body. But I’d like some help with the rest of life. You know? It’s a strange and unfamiliar journey and I’d like some signposts along the way.
Glory Days. Heartbreak. Poverty Ahead. Bad Decision. Just Another Wednesday. And so on.

Where have all the labels gone? I want stickers pasted all over life with names and warnings and everything. I demand a massive signboard that proclaims, in large and friendly letters: Don’t Panic.