I find it curious that I often think better clear when my mind is full of thoughts. I am edgy with an empty mind.
So when I am edgy, I read more. When I read more, I tend to get my mind filled with thoughts.
When I think more, I write more - I want to analyse my thoughts, judge them. I’ve realized I do that better when I’m reading.
In short, I like to read my thoughts. So I write.
That sentiment is a lot stronger for me in today's times of a pandemic that spreads by touching any of the open holes on a human's face. I'm tensed anytime I'm to touch my own face these days, especially if I don't have a hand wash or sanitizer around. I hate this crazy, fucking virus.
You can stop eating particular meat or can boil & reboil the water before drinking it. You can kill all the mosquitos around or have yourself bathed in repellant. But how the fuck do you not touch your own face? That's like asking your kid to not put herself in harm's way - she invariably will.
Anyway, with the bottled up frustration out of the way, my dislike for shopping for deodorant isn't new. So much so that it's no longer just a harmless dislike, it's a feeling of extreme hate. How the hell do you decide if a deodorant is good or not? I don't know how it's done at other places, but here in India, trying out a fragrance from a tester pack is pretty common while shopping for a deodorant. Everybody does it. Everybody apparent can do it. Except me. I never learned how to keep the fragrances separate. Once I've tried two, everything smells the same to my picky nose - you might as well make me smell the water and still get a comment from me after that.
The way-out for me earlier was that I would only try a couple and select one from those. I can't say it always works - I end up choosing one that smells the worst. Too strong or too mild or yuck. These are the only reactions I get from my family. I haven't let that affect me until now - I have managed to convince myself that no one likes how the other smells. As long as I'm happy with how I smell - or there's a complete lack of any form of smell for that matter - I was fine. So I bought whatever smelled best for me or didn't smell at all from the two I tried.
This trial for fragrances is out of the picture in the pandemic times. There just are too many logistical problems.
What's the other way then? You can for once judge a book by its cover or title, but there's no way one can judge a deodorant by its canister. I mean all fucking look the same. You can't select one because its nozzle opens up funny or the shape of the container is "different". The content isn't.
And what's with naming the fragrances? Dark Temptation, Sea Drift, Thunder Bolt, Regal Burst, Voyage. When every fragrance could be named as simply as "strong", "mild" and "mildest", fact that marketing would spend so much time and money to come up with these names makes no sense to me. How am I supposed to select between Dark Temptation and Gold Temptation?
And the money that marketing spends on the advertisement for men's deodorant must absolutely go down the drain. The only message they aim to deliver apparently is put this on and be a magnet for girls? Or be sensual? Or be "irresistible"? On the other hand, how can you even advertise for fragrance? The only thing you can say is it smells good.
Or simply strong, mild or mildest. I'm telling you, it is simple to solve this problem. Just use those names.
Anyway, I went shopping for deodorant today again. Looking at me struggling, toying around with all black canisters, the store owner pulled all the options away, kept one in front of me and said, "you will love this, sir, trust me". That won't have done it, but then he added, "you will click a picture of this and come again next time asking for this one".
Once I returned home with that deodorant, I minutely stared at my reflection in the mirror, wondering what in the way I dressed gave that store owner the feeling that I can't read English.
I read this heartfelt post at McSweeney's by Jen Coleman, a high school English teacher, on children already returning to schools amidst the pandemic. It makes no sense to me that someone somewhere is making a decision that puts these budding souls at risk just so that the perception of "we, the leaders, are handling it well" can be maintained. I am happy in my developing country if that's how a developed one handles crises.
That Sharpie tells me everything I need to know about teaching through COVID. We could have poured resources into prevention. We could’ve spent all summer enforcing mask use and social distancing. We could’ve sacrificed small pleasures for the greater good. We could’ve kept this from happening. But instead, we’re blindly barreling toward reopening even though we know teachers and students will die. We’re going to treat COVID the same way we treat school shootings.
If there's one positive change that the lockdown has brought into my routine, it would be that I am reading a lot more, both online essays & books. My Goodreads currently reading list is full of some wonderful books. It is a result of some intentional changes in my habit and the easy availability of a lot of free time.
I am "reading" a lot more books in their audio forms. The Audible subscription has been one of the best investments. I enjoy listening to books as I am doing other tasks. Be it the regular household choir or exercising. So if I am thoroughly involved in a book, it clearly shows in my walk/run times. I would go on long walks just to "read" more.
Additionally, I have since long stopped carrying my mobile phone with me - rather I keep my Kindle around. I always take it along as I move through my routine. This is my observation when I had first started following this habit a while back.
I take my kindle, walk to my balcony or to my terrace or to the garden and settle there. Without my phone. Or my iPad. Anyone needs my attention, they have to come and fetch me. And I realised I was back to being more earnest while reading.
This holds even today. So whenever my mind reaches out for some getaway, it's the list of books that is accessible. Not some social media feed. Or emails. No risk of doom-scrolling.
I have also realized that I can't read only one book at a time. What I want to read depends on a lot many external factors. My mood, the weather, what and who am surrounded by, the thoughts my mind is full of. So I have a list of 10 books that I am reading at any given time based on these factors. And I don't hold myself to add another to the list if none of these excites me some time.
Being a completionist has been a habit that I was proud of one time; that's not the case any more. If a book is unable to hold my attention, I will stop reading it. I will skip chapters if it is non-fiction to see if there's any other chapter that interests me. There are more pages that we can eagerly turn than there are minutes that we can breathe. Don't touch a book that doesn't keep you excited to turn to the next page.
Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!”
Hunter S. Thompson
I felt very close to the rain today. I don't like to get drenched in a downpour. Or to get damp in a drizzle. As a child, I used to sit at the edge of the veranda and watch the rain play its games. I did that again today after a long, long time.
The clouds gave way to a slight drizzle and eventually burst into an angry downpour. I slumped into the swing chair in the veranda and grinned as the wind lead the stream of raindrops as part of their lovely waltz. I instinctively stretched out my leg to the rain in the hope that nature's playfulness on show rubbed onto me.
It did; I felt calm, devoid of the stress that I had become so habitual to recently. I experienced a general sense of clarity within, but I wasn't thinking about anything specific. A numbness of mind that moves you meaningfully? I wish I could better word this paradox.
My recent lifestyle of the bustling metropolis has made me ignorant. When it rained, I hid behind glass with the raindrops furiously colliding against it. But then they dejectedly glided down. Not today. I let them touch me, heal me today.
I went casual shopping today. I didn't dress up as I would normally do whenever I go out in my hometown. How I look as I go outside does not matter to me much these days. Anyway, all I had to shop for was some groceries and a few ointments.
The way I looked today was fine for the larger town I have settled in. Rather the shabbier I dress up, greater the respect I gain from a store owner. Or so I believe. This theory fails royally in my comparatively smaller hometown.
As expected, I was consciously ignored by the store owners and the attendants. I, then, asked for a specific item, a Himalaya - a well-known Indian brand - face cream. I returned the Himalaya face gel asking for the cream variant. And it is then that they called me "sir".
This incident repeated itself at another store. My shabby attire made everyone attending in the store to ignore me. I then asked for a lip balm of from Nivea. I returned the strawberry flavoured one he hesitantly handed me and asked for a variant that's especially for men. It is then that they called me "sir".
I have realized over the years (and from the sheer amount of effort my dad puts in dressing up just to go out of the main door) that it matters here how you present yourself outside - especially in shops as a customer. However, if a shabby looking attire makes the store owners and attendants ignore you, the specificity of your wants makes you special.
Ever since I travelled back to my hometown, I have not been able to keep up with my routine. I’m not sure of the reasons, but things have been tricky.
One reason I believe is my mindset. For years now, I have been travelling to this place, to my other home, only on vacations. I would take long leaves, be off work and spend some relaxed time in the city where I’ve spent the majority of my early years. I feel I’ve grown accustomed to the air here and now I associate it with relaxation. Hence it has been extremely difficult to do anything else.
I’ve been sleeping a lot more. I’ve been eating a lot more. I’ve been slacking a lot more. I can do my office work, that doesn’t seem to be affected. But every other routine task is. I was waiting for things to naturally get back to normal. 2 weeks in and I don’t think there’s any chance of that happening.
So I am forcing myself now to get back into the routine. Time to bring the diaries, the journals back. Get the diet, the focus apps out. Reset those snoozed alarms again. Close eyes for those mindful 2 minutes. Stare regularly at the blinking cursor.
I need to stop treating the weekends as special. I stay up late on the night before, ergo I get up late. I am getting more lone time, I convince myself. I have now realized that's not the case. The late nights can give me some hours when all are asleep. But I enjoy the early mornings much more.
I am fresh, I can sit and relax with calmness surrounding me. No one's awake. Not in my house or on the outside. The only "noise" is the crickets in the dark, busy with their routine; that calms me.
I get to hear the nature wake itself up to the rising dawn. I need not plug my ears to shut out any distracting sounds. Every sound is stimulating; I read better, I write better. As someone who gets distracted by the slightest of the noises, that's also the best time to get into a meditative state, something I am trying to do daily now.
My habit of treating weekends as different from the regular work days has been ruining the routine that keeps me freshest throughout the day.
