Friday, July 17, 2009

Morbid Musings

I think I know now what it might feel like to be debilitated, an invalid.

Truth is all I am is pregnant. It's the all natural first trimester nonsense women all over put up with, seemingly cheerfully, smiling through vomity days and horrendously nauseating hours.

Food tastes like crap. My mind has stopped working. The only solace for me these days is sleep. How horrid is it to want to escape into sleep. To wake up thinking the best part of the day is over. Perhaps this must be how it feels like when life becomes passe', tiresome, when a person says, I am exhausted. Let me sleep and never wake up.

I know it is morbid but I am so out of it these days, surviving only. Hating every single minute of wasted hours spent staring at my computer. Work is impossible, creativity even more so. What a waste, I think, of a summer, of long sunny days, of possibilities that are passing me by.

Why can't I feel the joy of life forming in my womb? It doesn't feel real yet. Its still theory. Right now, what's real is this day long sickness. This must be how it is when horrible disease ravages a body, reduces one to a mass of instincts, shreds us of all that makes us human.

What a nasty feeling wishing away the day so night will bring peace. What a horrible feeling not being able to take my son for long bike rides because all I want to do right now is stare at the walls and feel sorry for myself. How irritating when an hour long workout doesn't invigorate but instead sends the body and mind into complete meltdown.

And this is all natural, wonderful!! Yeah right.

What then, I think, when this happens in a form that isn't natural, isn't going to be followed by happiness, isn't going to end in some months. I am glad to have this experience for it may well be the future. I make a note to call my lawyer and make a living will. I shall refuse treatment for my cancer should it strike. I have learned I don't have the stomach for this kind of living, these fruitless days of waiting, hoping. I just don't have the guts. I am such a chicken.

I know, I know I am being horrific. I am not dying. I just having morning sickness. Grow up! I want to tell myself.

And yet I want to smack the women who have smiled through this for centuries, rubbing their bellies gleefully, dreaming about the future. Goddamn it woman, you're miserable, at least act it! I want to scream.

Why can't I be like those millions of women who sail through these few months with grace, some even without complaint? I am a spoilt brat, I know but why don't I have an ounce of that wisdom so many seem to possess?

Its week 14 now. With any luck I shall be better soon. I wanted to write this before the feeling passed, before life became a whorl of activity again, the abnormality of these days soon forgotten. I want to remember this feeling, morbid as it might be, for it will help me appreciate the days I will have, the good ones. For some years, many years if I am lucky, after which....well, there's always my living will, I suppose.

Or better still....I'd better pack and move to the Netherlands soon.

P.S: I have to say this or I might hurt some. I mean no offense whatsoever to people who are truly ill and fighting disease. I just feel Like I have a glimpse into a different world these days.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Beauty and Brains

I admire beauty, the sheer perfect specimens of creation one sometimes chances to see around be it a man, woman, child, animal, flower, tree, whatever.

It is funny how I sometimes admire women when I'm walking down a and my husband looks askance at me accusing me of having"tendencies."

But the way I look at it is how can one help but admire what a great job nature has done on some creatures. Have you seen a baby donkey? With their soft bangs. They are such cuties, or a child with those curls in the back of their head, the wispy, whorls that only kids can have? Or men and women with perfect features and Greek god and goddess bodies and a sort of radiance that seems to emanate from them.

One thing I have learned is not to dole out compliments to strangers for with women they just look frightened and leave the place--I might be a serial killer. And with men, God knows what they'll think. I mean beauty is no guarantee for good character.

I admire beautiful men too. The super large rounded muscle in a tight tee turns me off since without exception that kind of man has this desperate look on his face. "Please look at me," he seems to be saying, "I have just left my gym where I have been working out for the past three hours and have been skipping dessert for the past twenty years." Nah. that kind of beauty is off-putting. Especially if its accompanied by no gray matter whatsoever.

Which brings me to what is most attractive to me in a person. His brain. I am one of those people like in that Intel ad about having different heroes. They probably have more but the one I have seen has this geeky looking guy walking across the office floor running his fingers through his hair, politely refusing to give his fans autographs and having women gush all over him. I later learned that he is the inventor of the USB and I too thought that was way too cool. The USB, for God's sake!

Cannot mention being attracted to men without talking about my sweetheart of course. I set eyes on him for the first time when he was 17. I was 18. First semester of college. The boys (its engineering and so boys are the majority) are planning a play. They come to me asking if I want to play Sita (Hindu mythological character). "Sure," I say. "Who's Ram?" (Sita's husband). "Him," they say and point to this slender, man-child walking across the classroom. Honest to God, I haven't seen such a grown up cherub before. The flawless complexion, auburn curls, limpid eyes, slender to the point of breaking. Now I come from a family of rough and tumble men. Nut brown, rough hands, gruff manners, all the stereotypical guy features. And at the time I had a crush on a similar sort. A family friend's son who is growing browner by the day playing tennis in the sun, jet-setting all over the globe winning prizes. That he doesn't acknowledge my existence is a different matter altogether.

Anyhow I look at this boy who is sliding across the class and smile. I suggest to the person wanting to cast me that he might want to get someone who might be a better match for "that." Look at me, I say. I could snap that boy in half like a twig. "yes," they plead, "but in this class, only you know how to dance!"

Fine. Obviously, I didn't fall for him like a ton of bricks. How could any self-respecting girl fall for such a pearly faced boy when her own face was so splotchy (from years of skin problems)! Anyway he just wasn't my type.

But then something happened. I slowly starting finding out how positively brilliant this overgrown cherub was. I mean truly. And how supremely forthcoming with his knowledge. And I was floored. The following year, when he sprouted a mustache that resembled a soup stain on his upper lip (not my words, PG Wodehouse's) and giant oozing pimples, I began to reconsider. Then my man went on to give a lecture in front of the class about graphic user interfaces or something and made it so lucid even for me to understand when I thought...well...pimples do dry up. Maybe I should buy him some anti-blemish cream. This could work out.

We're together so obviously it all worked out. I did end up playing Sita. He did play Ram. The play, a musical was supremely funny.

Anyway, I continue to admire beauty. I try not to gush too much at strangers' babies these days or stare for too long at men and women on the street. No I admire people from a distance, marvel at a cheekbone or gorgeous head of hair or brilliant smile.

But I am glad I admire the beauty of the brain best. For once the skin has withered, the chiseled jaw slakened into jowls, the taut muscles turned fleshy, the one thing that can last the longest are the brains and those truly are the loveliest creation of nature.