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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.

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Art, Design

*smiley face*

Dear Zonk,

Yesterday’s posts sparked some really nice conversations, and today feels better for it. And so, here’s a post about a happy thing for a change: I’d put up a t-shirt design here a few weeks ago and because it met it’s goal of 20 pledges, it actually got printed. Also, because it overshot the goal and did well, it’s now a permanent design on Redwolf. Redwolf made me an id and a password and things (I still haven’t done anything with that) and I can track the sales my t-shirt makes. And also – this is the best bit – everytime someone buys a t-shirt, I get an email about it. I love getting these emails. Its like the Universe making a little smiley face at me every once in a while.

*smiley face*

PS. I have 16 emails so far.16. Woo!

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Music, Unsorted

Hey, what’s up?

Dear Zonk,

I’m writing to you today because I’m in the mood to talk and my phone is in the other room and I’m too lazy to go get it and call someone. Which makes me sound like a potato, I know, but I’m not. I can prove it. I have a Google spreadsheet where I’ve marked all the days I did my 7-minute workout in the past 3 weeks, and another where I’ve marked all the days I did some music in the past 1 week. And right now, the spreadsheets look like this:

(The yellow squares is me. The blue squares is Rahul, who, thankfully, has not done too much more than me. Do not try to correct this sentence. Or the one before it. It’s probably erroneous but I don’t care to change it. And also it’s okay to start a sentence with ‘because’ or say ‘yellow squares is me’ if you know what you’re doing. Clearly I know what I’m doing. I use words like ‘erroneous’.)

I do believe I killed it. I can play Crash Into Me, now. Not too well, but still.

I bet you didn’t know you could embed Google spreadsheets in your blog. Neither did I. I only just found out. And if you did know about it, I’ll buy you a beer.

In other news, I feel pretty confused about how I feel today. I feel morose because I’m falling sick and I can’t breathe properly and my head hurts, and enthusiastic because my mom’s made amazing potatoes for dinner and annoyed because I’ve had an irritating day at work and happy because I got given a Toblerone for putting up with the irritatingness.

I think the Toblerone probably tips the scales in favour of Happy. This is why I like my office.

Also, today I listened again to a song that I wrote and recorded on Saturday with C that I wasn’t too happy with. This time, I took off the percussion parts and now I’m beginning to really like it :) If all goes well, I will share it with all of you. Here.

Goodnight and goodbye.

Love always,
K.

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Yesterday was epic.

Yesterday was Epic. Because there was Karaoke at work, and a photo booth at the New Year’s Eve costume party, and because, for once, every one had a costume. Also, I drank just the right amount and danced all through the party. It’s only the third time in my life that I’ve managed that, and it felt good.

I was Wednesday Friday Addams, and not to be immodest or anything, but I think my costume killed it.

Wednesday Friday Addams

Wednesday Friday Addams

It was a good start to the year. I hope the rest of the year is awesome too. For me and for you, both.

I hope you have a mind-blowing year, Zonk. I hope you do things you’ve been too lazy or lonely or afraid to do. I hope you get to work less and sleep and read and watch TV and make music more. (And I hope that that doesn’t come with any fiscal deficits.) I hope you are more happy than sad; and every time that you are sad, I hope you have someone to wallow with. Because I’ve had to wallow a lot this last year, and I know how important wallowing company can be*. And I hope you’re never bored. Because Time is finite and you are awesome and I’m not just saying that-

-I can feel it in my bones.

Love always,
K.

*That’s you: C, Rahul J, Troop, Niyati, Garreth. If ever you feel more neurotic than normal, I’ve got your back.
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Unsorted

25.

Dear Zonk,

My life is awesome. Because in spite of all the evidence in the Universe that ought to have taught me otherwise, I have found that people are incredible. At least, the ones that I know are.

So, to everyone who went out of their way to make my birthday happy, you’re awesome, and I love you. You know who you are.

Love always,
K.

PS: 25 feels no different from 24. Not in any way that counts.  It’s actually been pretty good so far.

 

 

 

 

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How Rickpooling Changed My Life, the Universe and Everything.

Dear Zonk,

Every morning, I take a bus halfway to work. A little more than halfway, really. Maybe two-thirds of the way. I can’t be too sure. In any case, I take my morning bus. It’s the same bus at the same time every day, and it starts from right outside my house. I love it. Everybody that ever sets foot in it loves it. Because  that’s just the sort of bus it is – old and reliable and comfy as hell.

And so, my journeys pass easily.  In the mornings at least. But the journeys back home at night – now that is a different story altogether.

Imagine being exhausted from 11 or 12 hours of work, and a little bit light headed from staring at a screen all day. Or from lack of fresh air or nutrition or both or neither. And imagine leaving work knowing that you have two hours to travel before you get back home. It would be okay, really, if you could get into a train or a bus or a something that would take you all the way from point A to point B. The problem, if you live in Thane and work in Bandra, is that pretty much nothing takes you all the way. And so I take a rick to Sion and train or a bus back from there, and then another rick from the  station or the bus-stop to Home.

Point B, dear Zonk, is two hours and three fucking vehicles away.

It’s mind-numbing and mood-souring and buzz-killing. It has been known to drive many a nice person over the edge and they’ve been known to go crazy and break things and turn into small birds that poop on people and stuff.

And surely I was headed that way. And I might have turned into birds, too.

Except: something magical happened this week. I found out that two girls from my morning bus who sometimes split the rick from Sion to Bandra with me have begun taking ricks all the way home on account of being overworked and exhausted and too spent to give a damn. I spotted my chance. My ray of hope. My only glimmer in an otherwise meaningless evening existence. I told them to call me the next time they took a rick. I told them I’d join in. And I did.

And it was good.

And it was convenient.

And it was beautiful.

You see, I don’t know these girls too well, but I know that we have a lot in common. We are three nice girls who work in the same area and live in the same area and travel what feels like a million miles in between. And at night, after a hard day’s work, we all want the same thing – to sit the fuck down and just be taken straight home. We want to take that rick, Zonk. And if we get to split it three ways, well.

Peace of mind for a hundred bucks.

I’ll take one of those, please.

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Music

A certain sort of happy

Dear Zonk,

I’ve had a weird few weeks of oscillating from absolutely happy to desperately sad, and I’ve decided to believe that there is no reason to try and go into the why of these things. For now, at least, I’m just here to tell you about one of those happy times.

This is a picture of Dischordian playing my song.

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(Picture from here)

My song.
That is, a song that I wrote that they heard that they thought was nice enough for them to consider playing at what was probably their last gig for a while. And it was awesome, and it sounded so much more like celebrating than when I play it.

This makes me the kind of happy that you can save up and use slowly over months. Someday I’ll have a proper recording, and you will hear it then.

Love always,
K.

PS. This counts as one of the loveliest gifts I’ve ever been given. Thank you, Garreth.

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