Friday, May 29, 2009

Reaching backwards

I think the reason why people have kids is to relive their childhood.

I don't think that's such a good idea.

I'm at that stage where I miss my childhood (though I hated a lot of it-I was late every day of the year in 5th standard. The uniforms, tests, sometimes scary teachers, etc) but I miss the organised protective atmosphere, the living day to day.

Actually, even high school was good. The fact that you were let loose at 2:30. The shelteredness of the neatly arranged chairs and benches. Your dependence on the fact that you could pull the plait of your best friend in front of you whenever you were bored. The fact that you could exchange looks with the person behind you when Maths sir began limits and continuity. The looks of 50% self-amusement and 50% frustration that cannot be replicated in any other situation but twelfth standard maths.

Yeah, so well. Imagine me, and then imagine those who are further away from childhood. They start to want to live it all over again-discovering the world all over again. Unlearning the rules and the shapes and colours and assembling them at a much slower pace. Who wouldn't want that!

There must be a solution to this feeling. An alternative rather than adding to the population or ending up with a kid when you're not fully grown yourself.

Childhood is so short that later you wonder if it was all a dream, whether it was real or not. So you spend the rest of your life, trying to reach at it from bits of your memory, like stuffing your hand through a jar, trying to pull out bits of confetti which flash, revealing colours and patterns that feel so familiar.

Oceanic bliss

There's so much running through my head that it adds up to total, blissful silence.

I think that is one of the symptoms of being over exposed to art-reading far too many books, watching far too many movies, absorbing, absorbing things you want to talk about, things you want to question that finally you decide to stop the dissection and just allow the waves to crash all over you, salty and overwhelming. Delicious.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Lose yourself

You get used to things. You make new memories. Things don't go back to what they were; they go forwards into something new. And it's interesting because the future is a surprise. And that's the best part about it.

I can't believe the number of movies I've watched this summer...

Doubt (brilliant)

Confessions of a shopaholic (surprisingly, I enjoyed it)

The Sisterhood of the traveling pants 2 (better than the first movie but NOWHERE close to the books! NOWHERE!)

7 Pounds (disappointing)

The other Boleyn girl (evil gets what it deserves)

Before sunrise (magical)

Before sunset (magic killed)

Half of 'A good year'

Half of 'Made of honour'

Twilight (the first movie I liked better than the book it was based on)

Adaptation (eerie for some reason)

And more to see:

The notebook (heavily recommended)

He's just not that into you (hey, I don't pretend to be intellectual)

Rachel getting married


The Duchess

And books, oh it's been a long list as well. This. is. the. life. Seriously, all I've been doing is entertaining myself of late.

The thing about reading is the fact that no one else can see what you're reading. I mean, yes, you are curled up on a sofa or hunched up under the covers with a bound tome with a catchy illustration on its cover but what can another person see? A book is like an invisible portal that sucks you in and you're in a different universe visible only to you.

It's not like knitting or painting or playing video games. The images, people, places are all within the space of your mind. And outside, you appear still and silent, lost to this world but ever so absorbed in another.

It's kind of like watching movies. Or sleeping. Or travelling. It's all about getting lost, losing track of your conscious self.

Is there a job description that fits that?

Ha ha. Will get back.