Pause

Pause is how it feels when you suddenly realize you're nothing you thought you'd be. Was browsing through notes I used to write in a diary last year and came to see that I seem to have very little of the enthusiasm I used to have last year. Why? I really have no idea.


Pause is also what happened to my blog for a bit. Paused thinking leads to paused writing. Also, was busy with German class. And to write in a language one is already proficient in (English) seemed like cheating on the new language (German). Oh, that's another pause by the way. Have taken a break from class for now.


My future plans are as wobbly and delicate as half-set yoghurt. And sometimes, nothing is as frustrating as sailing in a rudderless ship. I want to visit Germany this year. But have to decide on other things while I'm there. Do I look at Universities? Apply for internships? It all requires internet research. Which is possibly the most cumbersome thing I have ever done.  I don't believe in just sitting on one's ass and waiting for things to magically happen. But I do firmly believe in Kismat (or Kismet, its accented, westernized counterpart) and faith, and for things to happen when they have to. I believe in one thing following another and I believe in someone looking out for me. Argh. I wish I could get some clarity on the whole thing. A God's-eye view, if you will.


And oooooooh, talking of clarity and view, I got Lasik eye surgery done to correct my vision, so no more glasses and no more contact lenses! Eight years of contact lenses, preceeded by several years of glasses. No more involuntarily reaching out for my glasses the moment I wake up. No more carrying lens solution everywhere I go. No pairs of spectacles in my life. No more blurry ceiling when I open my eyes. No more, no more. It feels phenomenal. Post-operative discomfort aside, anyone who is sick of unclear vision and can afford the procedure (it's not even that expensive) shouldn't think twice.
The one week post-operative care is still on though. Which includes not washing your hair for eight whole days. I look like the Kumbh Mela sadhu, vines of curls sprouting heavily from my scalp. Okay, not as bad, but still. Not a comfortable feeling.


I was in Goa for about a month after my last German class was done. Awesome was rest, TV, the snug comfort of my room and the irreplaceable feeling of being at home. And when home is Goa, there's really nothing more left to ask for (but still, we do. We are strange, no?). Meeting up with Brad was nice, as was getting out of self-loathing mode.
 And the highlight was the short photography course that I finally finally did, thanks to my old acquaintance friend Shiv, who told me about it. Prasad Pankar, noted Goan photographer is superlative - as a teacher and as a person. There were about 14 of us in the batch and it was so much fun. Photography was something I was itching to explore, and I was stunned at the vastness of the field. I now find myself wishing that it wasn't such an expensive hobby, for I need to buy a nice SLR and keep thinking about the capital. My old laptop's burnt out motherboard compels me to buy a new one. A possible foreign trip is not helping matters either. But sigh, I really really want one. Still have to talk to dad though. For now, I browse through notes and a copy of Asian Photography and wait.


There are so many things running through my meandering mind like a disrupted, startled army of ants with no clear instructions. For all these ant-thoughts, I need a pause, a break, a stop. It's bruisingly noisy in my head. For now, I only hope to find a comma to rest against, tucked between the fragments of confusion.


Oh dear. I so didn't want to sound vague, but it came out all sombre anyway.


Yours blinkingly,
The Cyniqueen.