My Experiments with Resistance

Angel Me : You have to study for your exam, dear girl. Its a major, life changing exam. Its in twelve days. Don't succumb to the temptation!

Devil Me : Aww.Come on. You read fast. Finish it and get the suspense over with!

Angel : What if you can't prepare well because of the time this will take up?

Devil : What if you go crazy needing to know what happens?

Angel : Go on. Listen to her. Better ill prepared than crazy, I guess. Anyway, I am dying to know what happens!

So ladies and gentlemen, I read it. The book of the moment. And what a book it is!

My to-read-or-not-to-read struggle started when my sister and two cousins went and bought three separate copies. Spoiled rotten they are, I agree. So they all came home to my place in Bangalore, sat in three corners of the room and started reading. Different reading paces. So the jokes hit at different points of time. They giggled alternately. All very natural to them. My mom, the only person without the Hallows in her hand, begs to differ. She said it felt like she was transported to a mental home with the inmates giggling to themselves at their inner jokes. The joy of being in the same room with three Potter maniacs. I heard the above story and that set me off. I had previously determined not to read it, although I had the book coming. The sensible thing to do would have been to time my exam accordingly. I've known (for what-ten months?) that the book was getting released on this precise date. But like I said to a friend, timing is my talent. I had to have my exam two weeks from the release. I had to go through the to-and-fro with myself. Yet, I had to read it.

So, the day arrived. Overslept and felt anxious. What if I had missed the courier guy? I went outside and looked. No delivery notice saying they had been there and missed me. Thank God! I called the website people and made sure it hadn't come, just in case. All was well. Then, I realized my doorbell is not working. More anxiety. Repeated checks through the morning to look for the package. Could take it no longer after a while. I sat on my front steps and waited. I probably gave my neighbors the final proof that I was cuckoo, in doing so. The book arrived not fifteen minutes from the time I started waiting! Delivery guy came up with a package. "You wouldn't happen to be from Apartment two, would you?" he said, grinning knowingly. Of course I was from Apartment two!I almost hugged the poor dude. Well, I didn't. Much to his relief, I am sure.

I opened the package. Again a moment of truth. Would I let myself do this? The aforementioned struggle happened. The result was a foregone conclusion. I buckled. Eight straight hours. I finished it. It was worth every moment.

And the exam? Well..I'll tell you what happens. If I do well, one part of me wins. If I don't, the other part does. Either way, I get to say "I told you so."

Time tables and otherwise.

I still have to get used to sunsets at 8. 30 PM. Well, I have to undo the circadian clock of a lifetime, so its not a surprise that my mind refuses to believe yet,that the sun can actually hang around past 7 PM. It is a crazy process. Doesn't even turn twilight, really. 8 30 PM - light. 8 45 PM- Dark. I tend to have this lazy nonchalance that its still evening, till I look at the clock. Then its a frantic rush. Crazy is the word.

Be that as it may, its a whole lot better than darkness at 4 30 PM, which happens in January. Universal depression is not even an exaggeration.

Even as the temperatures and light schedules swing madly,its amusing to see how every season demands specific activities.
Early winter- shop like a crazed animal for gifts.
Late winter- Go skiing or get depressed and ponder on the futility of life.
Spring-Pretend like its summer and sun-bathe on every day the sun comes out. Garden till you drop.
Early summer- Complain about the heat, put on sunscreen in cartloads.
Late summer- Realize that summer is slipping away.Start grilling everything in sight.
Early fall- Sigh about the summer thats gone. Start obsessing about pumpkins.
Late fall- Start planning for Christmas.

And so it goes... year after year.

A major thing I have had to learn is to have a schedule planned for everyday, maybe months in advance. I used to wonder vaguely why people needed activity planners. I mean, I knew those things existed, but I thought only big shots would have a need of a schedule for everyday. You know, Presidents of nations or software companies. Not ordinary mortals like me. Its surprisingly difficult to do. Put each thing as it comes up on your calendar. Check your calendar and commit to that activity at that time. Whatever happened to creative freedom? Well, that has to have a time too. But now I definitely know I am not a teenager anymore. The state of denial has passed and I realize my memory is as fallible as the next person's, so I better put things on my schedule. Responsible attitude, or foretaste of old age? I'll find out.

Planning fun, I have realized, can enhance it. Road trips, for example. Whats more fun, to have an exact idea of the best places one can visit, fun places to eat and have a schedule for all that, or randomly drive, eat at some random place and realize that a five minutes' drive further could have taken you to a restaurant of your dreams? 'Down to the last detail' does not sound so bad anymore. Thats mid twenties talking, for you. Or the beginnings of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Again, I'll find out.

The opposite end of the spectrum, strangely, is a fun place to be also.As things stand now, major changes are going to happen in the next few months, professionally. I don't know what city I will end up in, what sort of a job I will have, what friends I will make. So there are some things that have no schedule. Its like the feeling just before one turns the corner of a blind curve. Tantalizing.Mid twenties rock.

Parallel thrills

Parallel thrills are my new way of getting kicks out of life. When I ride on the bus, I listen (unashamedly ) to the conversations of people around me. When I log on to orkut, I read other people's scraps and follow their conversation. Its a way of getting maximum value of an experience. Its a universal phenomenon, I bet. I have been made uncomfortable by many a stranger sitting at a neighbouring table in a restaurant, smiling at the conversations on our table. Next best thing to an i-pod. Maybe better when you are listening to 'Maula mere' for the millionth time.

Sports commentary is the best illustration of the above phenomenon.Why would anyone pay people to talk about the game if nobody wanted to listen in?

As you have probably guessed, this whole beating-around-the-bush stemmed from a ridiculous example of commentary between two American commentators. They were commenting on the Mauresmo-Santangelo Third round match at Wimbledon. Americans being Americans, have to go completely over the top on everything and that is what is expected in commentary too, I guess. Commentator One was this I-should-have-been-in-management type who was all about the money. Commentator Two was an I-am-so-laid- back-compared-to-this-guy type. This is what they had to say. I do not vouch for the exact words, but I am pretty much sure I get the spirit across.

Topic-Tradition of taking Sunday off in the middle of the tournament at Wimbledon.

Wannabe MBA-"If I was commissioner the first rule I would change is-' No play on Sunday'. Play on Sunday!"

Kewl Doode- "No."

WM- "In the middle of the tournament already delayed by rain, on maximum viewership day, they decide to take Sunday off?"

KD-" I enjoy middle sunday off. Not having to shave, taking a walk.. Dick is grilling hamburgers.Come on.. We need a little 'selfish' here. Plus its the tradition."

WM - "I am just thinking about the good of the game. Imagine all the sponsorships that are being done away because of this."

KD- "I don't think this tournament is exactly suffering from lack of sponsorship. I don't think thats a problem here."

What about the game that was going on, you say? Frankly , it wasn't that thrilling. So I just listened to these guys bickering about the commerce of weekends.

No wonder commentary is so much a part of cricket. When players have time to pick their noses in an obscure part of the field, it doesn't require a genius to conclude that its a pretty slow moving game. Imagine the dullness without commentary. If there were to be no Harsha Bhogle with his overflowing enthusiasm, no Ravi Shastri with his open partiality, no Tony Greig with his constant exclaiming, would the game be half as enjoyable? Whoever came up with the concept of sports commentary was a genius. Not only because the general public needs someone to walk them through the nuances of the game, but also because it makes the game seem so much more real if there are two idiots chattering in the background all the time.Try muting out commentary for half an hour. Wont feel like there is a game on.A psychoanalyst might say its a way of catering to the need for eavesdropping that exists in all of us. To that , I would say "Dead on!"