A car(e)free life

Priorities change. Our fears change. We change.

My greatest stress about moving back to the US involved getting a new driver license. When you have been gone from the country for 2 years, you are out of the system. Everything needs to be done afresh, and involves liberal amounts of paperwork and running around.

Multiple Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) offices in the area told me that I would have to start afresh- clear the knowledge test as well as the driving test. Although I drove quite a bit for 5 years, more than the average person does, knowledge test involved studying, and often memorizing facts that were not directly relevant (e.g., remembering permissible blood alcohol levels for someone who doesn't drink). I was lazy and did not have the mindset to study.

And then, the actual driving test- a chicken and egg problem. You cannot rent a car without a driver license, and if you don't rent a car, you cannot take the driving test. I do not know anyone outside work here, and when I was invited to attend a Sunday bhajan followed by a vegetarian potluck, I was convinced that I am perhaps better off not knowing anyone outside work. Now how would I get a car?

Burdened by these (first) worldly problems, I decided to at least get a state ID first (needs to be done within the first 30 days). I show up with all my documents. The first person at the counter confirms that this will be a state ID and not a driver license. I need to take the driving test in some other location that needs prior appointment. So I wait patiently until my name is called and I walk up to the counter to get a state ID.

"Your driver license expired in 2014. I see that you did not renew it."

A gut feeling inside told me to keep mum and nod, without explaining that I was gone from the country.

"If you pay a fine of such amount, we can renew your license," I could not believe my ears.

Quickly, I paid the fine, furtively looking around and making sure that no one comes from behind and gets me in trouble. With a racing heart, I quickly took the vision test, pledged to donate my organs when I died, smiled for a horrible ID picture, paid all the dues, gave copious amounts of thank yous and sorrys for not renewing on time, and ran out of the DMV office once they issued me a temporary driver license. I did not even stop to use the restroom, lest they change their mind and take away my new license.

Twenty six months into not driving, I got a driver license. Just like that. Without a knowledge test or driving test. Two weeks later, the actual driving license was in my mailbox.

That was part one of the story. Part two is, around the same time, I had an epiphany (with old age, I have many these days) that I did not want to own a car anymore. Not for the time being at least. Yes, this is coming from a person who drove 8,000 miles solo in one month before leaving the US, and suffered from strong separation anxiety when she had to sell her car. I used to itch to drive other people's cars after that. But as of now, I am done with my love for driving. The only three places I know in town that matter (home, work, and the dentist's office) are all connected by bus. Seattle is only a flight away. For other things, there are cabs. This aligns perfectly with my aim to live like a minimalist. A car means additional costs for gas, parking, insurance, and maintenance. Taking the bus makes me walk more, meet more people (I have already made friends), and plan my days better. Restricted mobility also means not being tempted to do unnecessary things, like driving 2 hours to a neighboring city for good biryani. I used to do that all the time. But now, I am happier getting home and reading a book than driving to someplace with no clear aim. And if I am suddenly dying to drive all the way to Southern California or Florida, I can always rent a car.

It's funny how things changed with time. My car was my life, and I could not imagine life without driving. Then, Germany happened, the much needed reset button in my life. By doing the same set of activities, I was engaging the same neural networks in my brain. Now, I was forced to develop newer networks, new skills- learn to take the train, learn a new language, learn to make conversation with the bus driver, and so on. Eventually, I reorganized my life around different hobbies that did not involve driving. Even with a driver license in my hand, I do not care to drive anymore. It's a truly freeing experience.

sunshine

Hoping for more

The coming year(s), I hope that I find more feeds of travel, road trips, and recommendations of good books and movies. Because between books, movies, and being on the road, I could spend most of my time.

I hope for less whining and negativity, and more informative, reflective, and uplifting posts. The weather is bad. The neighbor is bad. Politicians are bad. The advisor is bad. Dilwale is bad (Okay, Dilwale WAS bad!). The roads are bad. Surely, everything cannot be bad all the time. Something good is happening somewhere, right?

I hope for more travel experiences, in newer countries and continents.

I hope for better dental health for myself. I fought tooth and nail to avoid two back-to-back root canals in one Calcutta trip. This smile you see every day comes at a huge cost.

I hope for more, and better friends. And to continue to hold on to the ones I already have. The older I am getting, the more I crave for interesting company, and interesting discussions over a cup of coffee.

I hope for discovering a new hobby, and learning a new skill. Or many new skills.

I hope for more peer-reviewed publications. I have had my fill of "I am sorry to let you know ..." emails.

I hope to get much better in German. I still struggle to understand, and be understood every day.

I hope to continue to stay away from the cellphone. 

And most importantly, my ardent wish is to get more disciplined in writing. I have so many aborted writing projects sitting at my desk right now, for lack of discipline and a person to kick my butt and get them done.

sunshine

Morning Walks

Morning walks are excellent for health. I can give you even better data than scientists do.

Sunday morning, 8 am. I wake up to get a message from my neighbor, asking to go for a morning walk. I don't enjoy morning walks as much, simply because they need to be done in the mornings. It takes me a while to get my batteries started, and a walk meant prepping myself by wearing multiple layers of warm clothing. I love spending the weekends just lying lazily without the compulsion of having to be anywhere or do anything. 

Anyway, I could give you all these excuses, but I was ridden with guilt when my neighbor was giving me a healthier option in life, and all I was thinking about was sinking into my bed and finishing off the Korean movie from last night. Reluctantly, I got up, downed a glass of milk, grabbed a fruit, put on warm clothes (thermals, woolen socks, gloves, cap, scarf, down jacket, etc.), and started our walk, looking more like an Eskimo/polar bear on a mission, while other runners breezed past us, showing off their lithe, beautifully sculpted bodies. 

20 minutes into our walk, it started pouring heavily, and none of us had an umbrella. We were right in front of the international guest house. I've never been inside, although I have walked by it several times and always wondered what it looked like from inside. As if reading my thoughts, someone opened the door for us, a stranger I have never met before. Not wanting to freeze outside, we stepped in. There was an undeniable smell of Indian cooking wafting in the air. So we simply followed our noses, to end up in a common kitchen, where two women were making aloo paranthas, fresh from the oven. One of them was the one who had opened the door for us a few minutes ago.

The next few minutes of what happened is not so clear to me. Everyone thought that we were the other person's friend, whereas we knew no one there. Soon, a table for six was laid, and we were invited to stay for breakfast, probably because each one thought that the other one knew us. What started off as a morning walk ended as a noon walk, where we walked back home after noon, happy and sated, after gulping many aloo paranthas, cilantro and mint chutney, pickles, and ginger chai, befriending everyone who had invited us, and exchanging promises of organizing a similar "morning walk" session soon.

Morning walks are highly recommended henceforth. Imagine going for one, bumping into a bunch of strangers, barging into their kitchen, eating their food, chatting up for hours, and coming home after the food fiesta, to jump back directly into bed and take a siesta.

sunshine

Of research, and resolutions, and other miscellany

This is a write up about this and that, specifically the “this and that” that has happened over the last two weeks. I continue to get many emails from many of you (thank you for that!), but it seems like some of you wrongly thought that I am depressed and in need of help. Trust me, it is nothing like that, and I am not in denial. Usually an upbeat and positive person, I am doing great.

I usually have this argument with a close friend of mine. The friend’s point is, people are better off not knowing when they will die, because that will spoil the rest of their life. And I wholeheartedly disagree. I think that I would be able to plan my life much better if I knew my expiry date. That everyone will be dying someday is a universal truth; there is no doubt about it. Now given the current state of things, I would prioritize my life differently if I knew when I am dying. If I had 1 more week, I’d straightway drop everything and go visit Peru, because that has been high up on my list. If I had a month, I’d do Peru, Scandinavia, and visit India just in time. If I had a year, I’d spend it traveling most of the time. But if I had 30 more years, I’ll continue with my job search, publish more papers, etc. Now since I don’t know when I am dying, I have no clue how to prioritize things.

Not convinced? Most food we buy, milk cartons, cheese, eggs, juice, etc. come with an expiry date. Don’t know about you, but it helps me plan my grocery, money, and space in the fridge better. I feel cheated that I just know that I will be dying someday, but I was not told when.

So why am I talking about dying? Because these days, I am prepping for a different kind of goodbye. Goodbye from the current research group. I figured that I have 16 more weeks now. Time is finite for all of us. And now that I know when I am departing, I am able to plan my 4 months of remainder work so much better. At some point, I realized that instead of working the usual 40 hours/week, if I can ramp it up to 60 hours /week, my productivity will increase by 1.5 times. Which means that I will be able to publish more papers before I leave. Which will help my CV look better, and will help me find a job in the long run. But given how many of us complain that time is a constrained commodity, how do you find those extra hours? I came up with a very simple strategy.

No opening laptop at home during the weekdays.

It is as simple as that. This plan works like wonders for many reasons. Earlier, I used to come home, open my laptop, and spend hours looking at people’s awesome lives on Facebook (and feeling worse about myself). And being a big movie addict, I’d start a movie while eating dinner, watch it until late hours, go to sleep at 3 am, wake up at 9 am, and lose time and productivity. Now since I have no laptop on weekdays, I strangely find that I have not much to do at home. Hence I go to sleep by 10 pm. I am not kidding you. I don’t remember the last time I did that, but this plan works wonders. When I sleep by 10 pm, I wake up by 6 am, without an alarm clock. I not only wake up early, I wake up with my batteries fully recharged. So I have more energy to work now. I get to work by 8 am and spend the next 12-13 hours working. Now since I know that I will be at work for long, I don’t hesitate to take a break, go on a walk around the campus, and take some time off. Earlier, I would be constantly looking at the clock, trying to finish as soon as possible. Also, since I do not Facebook from work, my Facebook time is mostly restricted to when I browse on my phone. And how much time can one spend on phone browsing Facebook? The other thing is, alone at home, I keep thinking about all the things that will go wrong for me next. Mostly unhappy, negative thoughts. So the longer I am at work, the less time I have to think negative thoughts at home. Overall, this “no laptop from home on the weekday” is a win-win situation (which also explains why most of my blog posts and the replies to your emails happen on the weekends). In fact, once you get into this habit and rediscover the value of 8 hours of sleep, you do not even miss your laptop much. Notice that restricting the time you spend online is way effective than cutting it out totally.

I have had an awesome time practicing this the last two weeks.

This strategy helps me in another way. I think that research work (or any work for that matter) consists of two kinds of skills, lower-order and higher-order. The lower-order things are those that do not require much thinking, and is done mostly with practice. The neurons in your brain follow a fixed trajectory. For example, interviewing a research subject, transcribing a research interview, supervising the undergraduate student, looking up mail addresses, posting gift cards, etc. These activities are needed for research, but do not need specialized skills. And then there is higher-order work. Like designing a study. Writing a paper. Running a statistical model. These challenge your brain to think.

Now ever since the boss gave me the marching orders, they have also been dumping lower-order menial jobs on me. And I can see why. They know that I am leaving, so no point in spending their time training me. The boss doesn’t want to give me any higher-order activity that might not be finished during the last few months of my stay here (understandably because after I leave, they will have to depend on me to finish it). So the boss has started dumping lower-order work on me. I was recently asked to transcribe 35 hour long interviews, and I have no idea why I am doing the work of an undergraduate. It’s brain dead, mind numbing, menial work. It is not research, it is the preparatory work that leads to research. Now in an 8 hour work day, I am spending 8 hours doing menial jobs. But if I increase that to a 12 hour work day, I now have 4 extra hours to do higher-order work. It makes a hell lot of difference, being able to do those few hours of challenging work everyday.

So anyhow, this post is more about me babbling, because I am on my laptop after five days of hiatus. Now you might be wondering, if a 12 hour day makes people more productive, why don’t people do it more often? The answer is simple. Working such long hours is not sustainable. You can do it in spurts. Now that I know I am leaving, I have real motivation to get as much done as I can. Because I have an incentive of publishing more papers. If I knew I would be with this group for years, I would not feel the push. It is the same analogy of why most of the studying happening during the last week of the final examination. Students don’t study seriously everyday. For better or for worse, 90% of the studying happens in the last 10% of the remaining time.

So I have taken a hiatus from everything else for now- laptopping, photography, travel, socializing. Someone told me that I should socialize and seek a support network, and I respectfully disagree. Now is the only time to get some work done, for initiating some real research-related action. Socializing can happen during old age.

Anyhow, I got two job rejects this week. And next, I am tempted to write about my interview for another two jobs, and how interesting they went. Sarcastically speaking, of course.

sunshine

The Art of Giving

With time, I have grown disillusioned about the gifts we often give people, and what it means to us or other people. When I was little, there was no trend of giving gifts every time we visited someone. Visiting somebody usually meant getting a box of mishti (sweets) from the local sweet shop, and getting a bar of chocolate if there were children at home. That was the standard norm. No one expected any more. Gifts like clothes were restricted to members of the family, once a year during Durga Puja. And then there were birthday gifts and wedding gifts. But that was it.

Yet now, I see people getting each other gifts all the time. I have done that myself. You visit someone, and you get them perfumes, jewelry, home decoration stuff, and what not. If you visit someone’s home, you get them gifts. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Fathers Day, Mothers Day, Friendship Day, Hug Day, Housewarming, Baby Showers, the list never ends. I have often thought about the value these gifts have in our life. Wrapped in nice and shiny paper and presented in colorful bags using ribbons, where do these commercial tokens of love eventually end up? Is it merely a formality, or did it really mean something? When my sister got married, I got to see up close how much of gift analysis and gift abuse went on- Who gave what? How many? Who did not give what? Everything needed to be remembered in precision, because the same quality of gift would be given to them when they invited you. That part I understand, but what amazed me was the huge number of gifts that were recycled. Clothes and jewelry and kitchenware that did not live up to our standards, or were duplicates. Since what we wear is so personal, it is only natural that what we did not like, we would not wear. But that gift was a token of love to begin with, so it felt wrong to recycle it at someone else’s wedding. But what if that gift was a recycled one to begin with?

It also made me think of another fundamental concept- the value (and not the price) of the gift. Gift exchanges usually happen based on their prices, but what about the value? To me, a handwritten letter from a friend, or a travel postcard from a travel buddy means a lot more than an expensive brand of lipstick. I have carefully preserved every letter and card I have received over the years, but commercial merchandise did not mean the same to me. If this is the case, why send gifts to people, especially people whose homes are already brimming with stuff? What value does it add to their life anyway?

So a few months ago, I made a decision. I decided, no more gifts. Only presents. What is the difference? I see a present as something that is valuable for the present, not necessarily a piece of stuff, but an attribute that one will enjoy. For example, taking the time out to spend an evening with someone and have dinner, instead of sending them a gift for something. Remembering someone’s birthday, and calling them, instead of sending them a message on Facebook. Sharing a list of favorite movies or favorite sings with someone. Remembering what is someone’s favorite dish, and cooking it for them. Taking someone’s children to the zoo or the park, instead of giving them an expensive toy. Doing something, teaching something, or helping someone with your skills to show that you care. I had my moments of doubts, when I feared that people might criticize me behind back, calling me a miser. But I remembered the famous saying, “Be the change you want to see.” And I think that it has worked out well so far.

Last week, I was visiting someone in Philadelphia who agreed to host me although there is a baby at home, and they don’t exactly live in a palace. I needed to be there for work, and was on a tight budget. So I didn’t want to spend money on hotels. Also, I saw it as an opportunity to bond with my friend, spend time with her, and hang out with her family, including the baby. But once again, fears crept up my mind as I was faced with the gift dilemma. I was visiting the baby for the first time, and tradition demanded that I got something for the baby. But here was my dilemma. I could not carry something big from my place, because I was taking a flight and had baggage restrictions. I have no idea about gifts for babies. Even if I did, I do not know what the baby might already have. America is the land of plenty, where most people suffer from excess and not scarcity. And knowing how picky everyone is about clothes these days, I did not know what clothes to buy for the baby. Knowing how unwanted gifts are recycled by many, I did not want to give something that would be a waste of time, money, and resources. So I went there empty-handed.

But I have one skill that I could use to give them a present. I am a photographer. So one evening, we all went outside, and I took hundreds of family pictures. And on another day, I did an indoor photo session for the family once again. I know that new parents (or even not so new parents) love having pictures of their baby. So I put in the time, and made the effort to make the baby smile, give ideas to the mom about how to dress the baby up, and took hundreds of pictures of the family that they have been proudly showing off to their friends on Facebook ever since. And that serves my purpose and makes me happy. If I gave them something from BabiesRUs, I would never know if the baby liked it, already had a duplicate, or was being put to good use. But the value of what I gave them was immediate, and palpable. I think my plan worked.

So this is what I plan to do from now on. Give a present, and not a gift. Spend one-on-one time. Have conversations in real time. Listen. Write a hand-written letter. Send a thank you note. Take pictures of people. Take the children to a park, or do hands-on fun activities with them. Teach a skill. Take time to call people on their birthdays and not just send a Facebook message. Make an effort to meet people. No more expensive toys or jewelry or clothes. The more materialistic we get, the more we miss out on the human touch. And people have enough money to buy what we gift them anyway. So what is the point?

sunshine

Impostor Syndrome

“I am a fraud and they will soon find out.”

I have always wanted to research more about impostor syndrome (a psychological trait in which people do not believe in their accomplishments). This is because I know that I secretly suffer from it. It is a fear that comes on accomplishing something, that perhaps it was not deserved, and perhaps someone made a wrong judgment, and soon, everyone will find out that you are not as bright as they think you are. There is abundant literature about how women in higher education feel it all the time. It often comes from not having enough self-confidence, sense of worth, or mentors and role models who are like you (racially, gender-wise, etc.).

Although I suffer from it, I am now consciously aware of it, so that whenever such thoughts cross my mind, I make an effort to dispel such fears. But that was not the case few years ago. When I first moved to the US, it was to study at a top-ranking university in my field. I have always believed that I was perhaps not their first choice, and someone must have decided not to move to Seattle, and hence I got admission. It may or may not be true, but that is not the point. It shows how I never had the conviction that I could be somebody’s first choice.

Then when I got another acceptance for a PhD four years later, in a public ivy school very well known internationally, I had the same sinking feeling once again. I thought that they saw my previous school’s credentials and assumed that I am good, but they do not know that I am not that competent. I write this with a lot of sadness. I struggled through the fear that someday, my adviser would find out that I was ordinary, and be utterly disappointed.

I finished my PhD in 3 years. In 33 months actually. This shows that it had nothing to do with my mediocrity or luck. It was all hardcore hard work and dedication. The problem is that I did not believe enough in myself.

I have often wondered why I had such fears. Interestingly, I never had that fear in India. It started when I moved to the US. Also, I have this fear only with things related to my career. For my personal achievements, I don’t give two hoots about success and failure. But when it comes to career achievements, I feel that there is too much at stake. I wonder when and how I developed such a uni-dimensional trait. Think about it, I have achieved everything based on my abilities, and not any backing. I had no Godfathers in the field. Every college admission, every job I got was because of my own abilities. My advisers wrote me recommendation letters, but none of them used their contacts to get me a job. I have often asked myself, “Then why?”

With time, I grew conscious about it. So every time I would see myself achieving something and belittling my achievements, I would check my thoughts. It might have to do with personal identity. In the US, I never had role models who are like me. What do I mean when I say, like me? I mean, single, Indian, immigrant female. When I met immigrants, they were not single. When I met single women, they were not immigrants. And if they are single and immigrants, they are male. Your personal identity goes a long way in shaping how you see, or do not see yourself. I wish that instead of feeling what I felt, I told myself that yes, I deserve to be here, in this field, succeeding and making a name for myself, and I am not going anywhere.

So why am I writing this? Because I did the same thing today. My dissertation has been selected as among the top three in the US, in my focus area. I was not expecting it at all. So my first sub-conscious thought when I read the congratulatory email was, “They must have sent me the email by mistake.” Immediately, I checked my thoughts. I realized that once again, I was letting myself be a victim of impostor syndrome. None of the selection committee members know me personally, and it is impossible that they are doing me a favor by giving me this recognition. I have been selected in the top three, but they give only one award. So next month, they will let me know if I won it. It is a big honor. Yet momentarily, I forgot about all the hard work and dedication I put in my dissertation. I forgot how I strove to be the best, and produced a quality manuscript. Writing a 300 page document was no fun, but I forgot all about it. Instead, all I thought was, “Perhaps they sent me the email by mistake.” Later, I was pretty mad at myself for feeling that way. The conscious, saner side of me was rebuking the darker side for belittling my achievements all the time. It is as if I am my own enemy, seldom recognizing that I am capable of reaching professional milestones.

So this is for all of you like me, who suffer from impostor syndrome. Believe in what you achieve, and do not attribute your success to anything other than your own hard work. And learn to celebrate your success. It is so important, although I am guilty of not doing it. 

On a different note, I always felt bad that I do not have an "Awards" section in my CV. I have never really won any awards, barring winning a science quiz in the sixth grade (that I participated in because I had a crush on one of the boys), and a Sanskrit calligraphy competition in the seventh grade. I often eyed the awards section of my colleagues' CV with greed. You can imagine, being selected the top three was equivalent to winning the Miss. Universe crown for me (and I did not even have to lie about how I am going to save the planet, and donate all my money to the needy).  

They will let me know next month. If I win, I will be presenting my research at the conference in a few months. And even if I do not win, I get to start a new “Awards and Honors” section in my CV, and add a line there. I’m almost tempted to do a happy dance as I write this.

sunshine 

Staying Hungry, Staying Wise

New year is the time when the world goes high on making resolutions. I read somewhere that “A new year’s resolution lasts as long as the first week of January”. Truer words were never spoken. While Facebook is replete with updates from people who resolve to lose weight, be tolerant to fellow-desis from the Bay Area, spend less time Facebooking (ironically announcing it on Facebook), strive to find a higher truth (whatever that means), cut down on spending in shopping, or waste less time listening to Kolaveri di, I wonder how many of these resolutions actually attain fruition. This gives an interesting glimpse into human behavior, where some invisible force throughout the world not only makes us guilty for our actions (or the lack of it), but also makes us announce publicly a list of all the things we will probably never do.

I do not make new year resolutions. I make resolutions, not just during the new year though. Last summer, I made a resolution to cut down on eating outside. I had to make a sudden trip to India because my father was ill, and I had to save for the trip. Not eating out was my only serious resolution, and it was hard. It was hard not because I am a big fan of eating out, but because these days, eating out is a major form of socialization. We have all the time to stalk people and stay abreast of gossip, but we do not have the time to invest into cutting, chopping, and cooking. I did not stop eating out altogether, I just reduced it to once a week, then once in two weeks, until I reached a stage where I rarely wanted to eat out. I started with saying no to outside meets, but yes to potlucks at home. I continued it with making less frequent visits to Chipotle and Starbucks (I used to frequent them every alternate day). I started skipping get-togethers, and with each dinner meet missed, the peer pressure of making it to the next one got worse. I would order a glass of water at the coffee shop if that was my only option. It was about saving money. It was about taking a little step toward a healthy lifestyle. But most importantly, it was taking a major step toward self-disciplining yourself, and sticking to that. I feel I cared more about money when I did not earn it. I started to hang out with people in smaller groups. I would call them up, asking if I can come over for dinner, and always bring a dish or two to share. Every time I went out, I made sure I had some yoghurt or bananas with me. I started rewarding myself by buying things I am passionate about (for example, office supplies and photography gear). I have eaten out once at Chipotle, and have been to Starbucks once since summer. That is more than six months. We went for a little trip on new year, and I had packed some bananas and yoghurt in case we got hungry after the hike. I mentally congratulated myself when I could convince my friend to not eat out, and we came home to enjoy two courses of chicken curry, shrimp curry, and some lentils, all prepared at home. This morning, I put some time into chopping vegetables and making an omelet and some coffee for my friend, rather than head to ihop.

I am not going to start telling you the advantages of not eating out. It works great for me, but that might not be your calling. It works for me because I save money, plan my food supplies better, restrict my socializing (if socializing is equivalent to eating outside), feel less guilty about eating unhealthy, and afford the best quality stuff (the best quality of organic food is still cheaper than eating outside). Most importantly, I feel I have a say in deciding my life, about which get-togethers I want to go to, and which I want to avoid. I like the power of being able to say no. I spend more time cooking for friends at home, and hang out with people who spend time cooking for me. When I was in Calcutta, I ate at home every day. I might not know what food in Oh Calcutta or Mainland China tastes like, but I sure know how good it feels when my mother, grandmother, father, and even my neighbor aunt put in the time and effort to cook something I enjoy.

Since this was not a new year resolution, it did not die by the end of the first week of January. I still have to work on disciplining myself in sleeping earlier, working out everyday, reading and writing more regularly, or keeping myself motivated through the rest of my doctoral study. However, minimizing eating out is a resolution I am going to observe for life. I am going to eat out only when either the food or the company is compelling enough for me, or when I know I am going to die for the lack of food.

sunshine

Resolutions than won’t see dissolution

It is that time of the year when resolution lists show up more on blogs and on facebook than they do on personal diaries. I do not know what is it about the new year that makes people start making promises to themselves that they seldom keep. Even if you do not want to make a list of resolutions, peer pressure or a hike in your blood sugar levels force you to join the rat race. It might be due to the guilt-high that follows the sugar-high, gorging on all those cookies in the name of Christmas and other festivities. Although to be fair, any good intention however small, should be commended, and since one needs some push to start, let the timing of the new year provide that auspicious push.

I have decided not to make those shallow resolutions I make every year that I have no intention to follow. Resolutions like losing weight, cooking more, not snapping at my mother when she diplomatically asks me to move back to India, not panicking at the thought of turning old thirty, not counting grey hairs in front of the mirror every morning, not stalking people on facebook, and trying to be a good girl are the lamest resolutions I promised myself over the years, thanks to all the social pressure. Trust me, they do not work. By Indian republic day, you have gorged on those laddoos, weight watching be darned. By Valentine’s day, you have consumed thousands of calories in the name of love. By March, celebrating Holi ensured you ate more junk. So no lame promises to myself that will soon not see the light of the day. However, I do want to bring changes in my attitude and actions that will have a lasting impact in my life, not just for this year, but for the rest of the years I live.

More Recycling

I am consciously beginning to use no more than the resources I need, and to recycle whatever I can. Guests I am expecting for dinner will eat in dinner plates and not in plastic plates using plastic cutlery. I feel something prick me somewhere deep in my guilt bone every time the lady at the grocery store gives me 8 plastic bags full of my weekly grocery. So I am beginning to use the shabby not so great looking but highly functional grocery bags (also called “bajarer tholi” or “bazaar ki thaili”) someone got me from India. It is a different story that every time I look at those “tholis”, I am reminded of a potbellied and bespectacled Bengali uncle moving slowly, following his paunch and nose, smelling and sniffing every variety of fish, inspecting vegetables, and putting it inside the rarely washed grocery bags reeking of the smell of fish. Childhood associations, you see. I am using the white side of the printed papers I no longer need to do calculations, write grocery lists, and play tic-tac-toe. I don’t use the printer that often, but read the scientific papers from the big screen in the lab. I have “gone paperless” for my bank statements and car insurance bills. Anything else you suggest?

More of the print and the media

I have resolved to read more. I have resolved to watch more movies. And, I have resolved to write a review, even a short one, every time I read a book or watch a movie worth recommending. I have read so less and seen so few movies that I need to make a start somewhere.

Living minimalistic

I am culling down the clutter in my room, and in my life. There are too many things I have that I do not need. My bathroom vanity will vouch for that. Although I am not infamous for delaying trips in the morning because I spend too much time in the bathroom wearing makeup, I still have too much stuff that I will not need. Similarly, I have too many “superficial contacts” in my life, people who should not really matter to me, but people whose opinions immensely matters at the subconscious level. Sometimes, I get carried away with what others think I should do, but it is my life, and what I choose to do with it is my business.

Making the sunshine blog more interactive

Till date, I have posted very few links and videos. Most of my posts are about what is happening in my own selfish world, and how I feel about things. Henceforth, I will post whatever I read and find interesting, asking you for your opinions (please provide your feedback). Further, if you read a good book, watched a good movie, came across an interesting blog, or went to a good place, please mention that to me in my blog or in my mailbox. I want to know more of what the world does, what it reads, what it sees, and how it revolves.

Doing something better to improve myself everyday

No matter how clichéd it sounds, this is what I will hope to do. Even if it means little, I will try to do at least one thing right every day. That might be as insignificant as waking up early, not skipping breakfast, or not procrastinating that report the advisor wants until the last moment. That might also mean learning a few words every day, reading the news for a change, or skipping that ice cream I don’t need to eat. I have my fair share of a few small and big dreams for me, and if I hope to attain even a tenth of them, I need to embark on the journey sometime to be more disciplined.

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Efficiency Resolution

It was a new year party. We were transitioning into 2009. Amidst intervals of taking tequila shots and merrymaking, it was time to do the ritualistic new year resolution announcement. Everyone had to drink to a resolution and make a resolution. Everyone laughed about how resolutions were meant to be broken and stood good only a couple of days into the new year. People eventually reverted to their old habits, screw resolutions! As usual, someone said (s)he wanted to lose weight. Someone said (s)he wanted to get married. Someone said (s)he wanted to be a better person. But someone said something I remember vividly till date. (S)he said (s)he wants to stick to the resolution of an 8 hour of work schedule every day.

That’s it? Short and sweet, isn’t it? What was the big deal about sticking to an “I will work for 8 hours a day” resolution? Or so I thought then. But trust me, I am reminded of the resolution every day. I am not sure if the person who made it was able to stick to it, but I haven’t been able to. We like to fool ourselves believing that we spend a large chunk of our time and energy working, but do we really? In class, we check Facebook messages in the name of multitasking. At office, we check personal emails a hundred times, put on music, read the news, comment on our favorite blogs, and speak on the phone. Every time we are given an assignment we do not like to do, we let ourselves get distracted, go out for a walk, drink a glass of water, feel hungry or feel the sudden urge to talk to parents in India, or quickly scan who is doing what on Facebook. And if that is not enough, there are youtube videos to watch, friends dying to talk to you online, and news feeds on who scored a century recently or how the economic policies of the world is affecting the automobile industry. We feel that dying urge to be a part of heated discussions, comment on topics, wish our friends a happy birth day, like status updates like “Life is good, having fun in Hawaii” on FB, and read gossip about others we are better off not knowing. We check the weather and check fluctuation in flight prices from Texas to Florida, though Heaven knows we have no plans of visiting either Texas or Florida for the next few years. Some go a step further and look for online shopping deals, scan for furniture ads on craigslist that they would never buy, or simply forward feel-good emails to others on the pretext that, “If you do not forward this to 15 goats in the next 5 minutes, everyone in your extended family from Ullhasnagar to Jhumri Talaiya is doomed.

On an average, if a person spends 8 hours sleeping, 8 hours relaxing at home (that includes cooking, eating, watching TV, taking a shower, courting, socializing, having and taking care of kids, writing blogs, making travel plans, etc.) and 8 hours at the workplace, no prizes for guessing what time slot we choose to sacrifice for our distractions. Sleep time is our “own time”, and so is the time we spend at home. How is the math of doing quality work going to happen then?

It’s not a preaching post, it’s a self-realization post. I realized (shamefully) that I know how many common friends I have with a certain person “X” over the top of my head, and might also be able to tell you that although I know a friend’s friend only distantly and have never been formally introduced to her, I could tell you where she works, her pet’s name, what car she drives, and where she shops. But if you asked me to name the top five journals in my field or the top research papers on a particular thing I am working on, I will be mumbling, stuttering, scratching my head, and having a difficult time trying to organize my thoughts. So for the last few weeks, I have resolved to reach the department by 8 am and try to be productive. I have tried working in close proximity to my advisor and my other colleagues to take advantage of the Hawthorne effect (people consciously improving their efficiency simply because they know they are being watched). I have tried clicking on non-academic websites for lesser number of times. I have tried not taking phone calls or replying to personal emails. Less FBing, no youtubing, no blogging, and no unnecessarily checking the weather of a place where I do not even live. I won’t claim I have seen outstanding results, but I am still trying to better myself. Every time I need a break, I try taking a walk by the campus instead of checking updates of people I have no business knowing. I am yet to go a long (really long) way before I achieve desired results. But it never hurts to try, does it?

I feel great at the end of the day when I have worked on something, finished something, or achieved a target (which doesn’t happen very often). But some days are wasted, meaning distraction sets in and by the end of the day, you feel horrible armed with meaningless knowledge of who is going where on Thanksgiving and who is drinking what kind of coffee at Starbucks. These are the days I feel most frustrated and useless. Building self control is an exercise that takes time, discipline, and motivation. Which brings me back to the resolution my friend talked about earlier. This is the only resolution I have felt true to its core, and most difficult to follow. “My resolution is to spend 8 hours at work every day just focusing on work”. Sounds very simple, but try doing it. You might perhaps not succeed fully, but you will definitely end up knowing a few things about your self-control (or the lack of it) that you might not openly admit to.

sunshine

A Big Fat-(free) Lie

At some point of my life, roughly 83 hours and 52 minutes ago, I got tired of hogging on all the Rasgulla, Gulab Jamuns, Rabri, and all those deep fried masses of sugars and calories. Nothing triggered it, it just happened. I guess it’s like giving up on smoking (or getting rid of that loser of a boyfriend you should have left 5 years ago). You have been thinking of doing it for a while, and every time you try, you just fail. Then one fine morning, you wake up and just do it. I think the same happened to me. I have been unhappy with the way I have put on weight for the last few years. From being a person who jumped at the center of the screen whenever I spotted a camera, now I started shying away from the camera, finding a comfort spot behind somebody so that my paunch was hiding. Paunch I could still hide wearing appropriate clothes, but where would I hide my face, a big round blob of fat now with chubby cheeks? It’s been years since I’ve seen my face oval, the original way God designed it. Anyway I will rant about my body and looks some other time (I promise I will). I will not spare you, I will even rant about my huge biceps, till you are bored to death. Anyway.

So one fine day I just decided to give up on the empty calories. This was the least I could do, since I wasn’t committed to gymming and working out big time. The mangoes looked at me from the fridge expectantly and I looked back at the mangoes with pain. The neighbor who makes awesome “Patisaptas” (sweet crepes stuffed with coconut and jaggery and sometimes condensed milk filling) was promptly asked not to make those for my goodbye dinner in 5 days. Convincing mother wasn’t a problem since she has always been after me to lose weight, but convincing neighbors and relatives who believe in increasing their good karma by stuffing another Rasgulla into your mouth became a big problem. I turned down two dinner invitations feigning a stomach ache because it is futile to argue and explain to these people why I will not hog on the coconut cream based prawns, the deep fried potato tikkis, and the four courses of dessert following a five course dinner. Not that I have slimmed down overnight, but I still intended to stick to my decision of not eating rubbish.

So I went to visit my ex-student’s place. I taught her Math for 4 years and though she sucked at Math, we became great friends. Ironically I was the one who told her that Math isn’t everything in life, but as long as she studies it, she should do it well. I go visit my student after 4 years, and aunty (her mom) gets me a huge brown chocolate pastry and a tall glass of chilled iced tea. Poor aunty is familiar with my eating habits four years ago when I used to religiously devour every sweet she put on my plate (I don’t just have A sweet tooth, my entire dentition is sweet !!). Today I had already reached the stage when I was having sugar withdrawal symptoms, a little dizziness in my head and a very irritable temper caused by it. Not that I was starving or dieting, I just decided not to hog on high-calorie, low-nutrient stuff.

My plea of neither touching the chocolate pastry nor the iced tea fell on deaf ears. I promised I was more than happy sipping on a glass of cold water, but she wouldn’t understand. I tried reasoning with her, feigning a stomach ache, but nothing worked. Poor aunty must have been worried what she would offer me instead; maybe she didn’t have too many options. When nothing worked out, I had the most innovative idea. The only problem with that was, well, I can plan a lie beforehand and deliver it well, but when I make up an instant lie, I usually get caught.

“Aunty, please don’t insist. I have been diagnosed with high cholesterol”.

I don’t know why I said it, but it was one of those things you say first and think later. It sounded odd to my ears, high cholesterol at 28?

“Oh dear, sorry about it”. Aunty promptly put back the goodies away.

So we sat in an uncomfortable silence the next few minutes, aunty too shocked to ask me to eat anything and me too scared to speak lest I am caught.

“So how did it happen?”, she asked. “Family history?”

Now something in me refused to malign my impeccable family history. I was already feeling guilty for making up illnesses I do not have.

“Uh, not really. Just a bad American lifestyle. Not eating well and all”.

So the conversation drifted to normal soon. We spoke about this and that.

“Where did you get your tests done?”

I must admit I was totally unprepared for the question that caught me off guard. I was about to say our family doctor’s name in Kolkata, but something in my head was screaming our family doctor is aunty’s brother-in-law too.

“Aa- aa- bbb- bbb….”

Aunty stared at me stammer.

“Bbb—bbb--- Bellevue clinic”

“Which one? In Kolkata?”, she asked.

“No no, the one in Seattle? Bellevue clinic in Seattle”

“Oh.. okay”

“My memory getting bad aunty. These days I forget names so often”, I explained lamely.

The chocolate pastry stared at me from the corner of the room for the next 30 minutes, untouched. I came back later that night and had healthy roti and subzee for dinner. I wonder if aunty ever realized I gave her some instantly concocted lie. Even if she did, I’m sure she would know it was an innocuous, fat fat-free lie.

sunshine

A Tax-ing Promise

Dear self,

Promises are sure meant to be broken, especially after deadlines are over and the pressure is lifted. Nevertheless, I’ll try to promise myself, just to keep up to the ritual of making and breaking promises. I promise that henceforth I will keep my important documents in order. Medical bills, electricity bills, tax documents, everything barring those letters trying to sell me free credit cards or car insurance (though I don’t have a car) and sentimental letters asking me to make a donation to the cause of victims will go in a separate box bought especially from Ikea and will be attended to immediately. Tax return filings will not be procrastinated till the deadline henceforth, especially since I have figured out that it can take months of procrastination (3 months in my case) but just one hour of focused effort to get my taxes done. However, big words, you know why? You see, there is this W2 form, an important piece of document that has all the figures related to your income and expenditure except how much you pay for buying clothes every month. Sometime during shifting apartments a few months back, I misplaced my W2 form. To make matters worse, I was supposed to fill in 2 W2 forms this year, the penalty for remaining in school half of the year and then working the other half of the year. I did get dirty looks on informing the office that I would need a duplicate copy of my W2 form, and that too 1 day before the deadline of the tax filing. The second W2 form would need some special pulling strings to achieve, since I didn’t go to school anymore. But all this would mean I would miss the deadline for filing tax returns. Needless to say, I decided to pillage my home to find the two original W2 forms.

Pillage I did everywhere. Cushions were upturned. Drawers were emptied. Cupboards, clothes, drawers, everything was ransacked. The good thing about bathrooms and kitchens and balconies are that I am not really known to keep papers there. But that still leaves the bedroom and the living room to plunder. Shelves, racks, chests, cupboards, no stone was left unturned to find the two W2 forms. Funny, I found ten other documents I was looking for in the process, unpaid electricity bills, receipts from the Kabab place I had dined at 6 months ago, free credit cards from companies I have never heard of, receipts for the Walmart shopping I did 2 years ago, little hand written grocery lists, and so on. I even found the Macy’s receipt for the dress I bought last summer and couldn’t return (because I couldn’t find the receipt then), receipts for unpaid electric bills, and the envelope of my graduation pictures I have been looking for ever now. But the W2 forms were still missing.

To cut a long story short, the W2 forms were finally found, after a couple of hours of ransacking the house, missing out on the evening dinner party, after endless hours of squatting and searching on my knees in the remotest of places (like under the bed), cursing under my breath every time my bones creaked, making a resolution in the process to hit the gym for the endless time now after re-discovering my unsurprising loss of body fitness. Careful me had nicely stored the forms in a big file got from India to especially hold my important documents. The file was again carefully stored in the suitcase, beneath layers of junk like speakers, unused electrical wires, and various little paraphernalia (like band aids, of all things). And why may I ask the thought of checking the suitcase never occurred to me?

Because 2 weeks back, while rehearsing for the play, I had kept the suitcase on one of my dining table chairs, using it as a prop to hold my script at eye level for me to read and perform.

And this post is dedicated to all the hours lost, not just looking for documents, but for procrastinating, fretting, panicking, making my life miserable, and early-ing my process of ageing and getting white hair and sleepless nights for nothing. Age should bring wisdom. Not forgetfulness and procrastination.

sunshine