D is for Dazed

Mood: Crabby from being hot as hell and not in a sexy way. Dutch Viking folk do not like sweating all the time.

Listening to: If You Ask Me - Yusuf Islam

Hello there.  I’m back from oblivion. Anyone really surprised that this alphabet thing is going all to pot? Anyone? Bueller? Didn’t think so. I’m not surprised either.

Anyhow, the past week has been one that has left me in a daze of relatives, schedules, and completely losing my shit. Allow me to explain. My mother and father in law have come to Bangalore. Up until now, they have been staying at my sister in law’s house. As I’ve mentioned before, I really do love my inlaws. They are fabulous people. I also am very accepting of the fact that I married into an Indian family and having the inlaws around every once in a while is a foregone conclusion.  When my sister in law was dropping them off at my house, I asked my nieces if they would come stay at our house for a week. To be honest, I was totally joking with them. They got all excited and begged my sister in law and her husband to stay with me and their grandparents. I was a little surprised, but I definitely wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing to watch them. So all of a sudden I not only have the inlaws, I now have 4 kids in my house.

To say I was unprepared would be kind. Excellent planning is almost a requisite for survival in India. My inlaws have honed it into almost a religion. Unfortunately, I have never been all that good at discipline and planning out of the box. I know how to run our house down to a science, but throw a few extra people in there and shit flies apart. Needless to say, our philosophies and levels of ability are different. My mother in law can look at a house of 8 and know how many quarts of milk we will need a day and how long a curry consisting of 3 vegetables will last. I figure we can always go to the store if we need more milk. Technically this is true, but running a house with 8 people does not lend itself to running to the store every time you miss something.

The kids part of the equation really wasn’t too bad with the exception of 4 little voices asking me for stuff every 5 minutes instead of 2 (and I was prepared for this – I’m not stupid) and a few massive weeping fests at bedtime because my nieces are uber attached to their mother and missed her.

My inlaws come from a very regimented house. My mother in law has been running her house since she was 18 and was often time caring for a household of 20 or more. I totally get it why processes are important to her. However, this is my house. I do not ever have more than 6 people living together for any amount of time. I do actually have my own processes. I have a habit of trying to allow other people to be and do what they want in my house because I want them to be comfortable. It’s not necessarily a good thing for me, but it’s a compulsion I have. This is magnified with my inlaws about 10 times. When someone comes into your house and doesn’t even recognize that you have your own system and tries to re-haul everything you’ve worked on setting up, it’s a very hard pill to swallow. I was mulling over my housekeeper’s ability to try this with me, and then my mother in law came over and it was multiplied by 10. She’s such a perfectionist – and honestly brilliant at what she does – it’s hard not to feel like a gawky 11 year old who doesn’t know anything. Even when I try to defend my way of doing things, she has an argument ready about why her way is better and supporting points. It’s a little exhausting. Ah well, at least now we know where my husband gets it from.  So with the schedule.  My inlaws schedule revolves around food. The problem with getting sucked into someone else’s schedule is that your own will disappear and things that you need to get done. At my house, my work was the first thing out the window. Blogging quickly followed. Spending all day in the kitchen is not compatible with doing actual work or writing.

My inlaws have gone  back to my sister in law’s house. It’s a bittersweet feeling – I miss them after they leave, but I also heave a huge sigh of relief and relaxation.

How do you deal with people who are convinced you are wrong and want to show you the right way to do everything?

Becky

Update: Apparently I'm so dazed I did D twice. D is for "Doh!"

D is for Domesticity

This will be a shorty post. Just trying to keep the flow going.

As I’ve discussed before, I have what I like to call the Martha Stewart gene. I’m not anywhere near as creative as she is, but I do love me some cooking, cleaning and organizing. I wasn’t always like this; I only developed the symptoms after I got married. Since we’ve moved to India, I have a house keeper type lady who comes over to clean my house and occasionally cook some food.

My housekeeper took the day off recently right before my inlaws landed up at my house to stay for a week.  I had a very full day of cleaning and washing dishes. Perhaps I haven’t been here long enough to get spoiled, but I actually enjoyed doing my own chores again. I missed washing the dishes. On one hand, dismissing the housekeeper would let me do things how I want them done. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have time to sit and write all this nonsense on my blog, and I do love me some blogging.

Becky

C is for Collateral Damage

Listening to: Suga Suga – Baby Bash

Mood: Exasperated

What do you do when friends and relatives have so many other obligations that you end up feeling like an afterthought all the time, even though you are asking for face time?  I’m not going to call out anyone here – I have a few relatives that this seems to apply to and I do love them all.

I grew up in an extended family that prioritized family time. We didn’t see each other all that often, but whenever we did see each other, people actually made time and visited. Those times are some of the best memories I have. As I got older, I would often hear that visits weren’t always possible because people have lives. This I get. I do indeed have my own life that sometimes takes juggling – see the insane parade of people that have come through my house in the past 2 years.

I guess I’m just old fashioned, but to me, both friendships and family take work and connection. Just because I’m not being needy and demanding doesn’t mean I don’t need or want to spend time with people. I respect your obligations, but you need to realize that I am one too. I don’t want to have to feel like the other obligations in your life always take precedence over mine.

I know, I know, stop with the wah wah party. I just hate feeling that with some people, especially family, that it will always be something or other.  I don’t want to be collateral damage from your other obligations.

Becky

B is for Bollywood

Listening to: Tujhse Nazar Nahi Zindigi from Massom

Mood: Procrastination central. I have relatives coming over tomorrow and I’m hiding from all the cleaning

Oh Bollywood. Over the past 10 years I have come to love you like you were a part of my own culture and upbringing.  For those not in the know, Bollywood is the Indian version of Hollywood that is based out of what was once Bombay. It’s now technically considered Mumbai, but come on people, we can’t call it Mollywood, that’s just ridiculous. In a side not, there is also a Sandalwood, Tollywood, and Kollywood. It’s getting totally out of control.

Bollywood has always had its own style of movie making that never directly competed with western style movies nor became taken over by them. To be sure certain elements were shamelessly borrowed from or stolen (Yeah, sneaking Snoop Doggy Dog into Bhangra, hello India, what’s that about??), but the soul of a Bollywood movie always retains its own flavor. Most of the movies are centered around music, although this isn’t necessarily true anymore. Think like a musical play, only with lots of coy looks and dancing in the rain. Bollywood can be split up into 3 catagories.

1.  Really, really old movies. Some of these are classics, but the only people who seem to like these movies are older aunties and uncles and even their parents. It is a tremendous nostalgia jag for them to see really old movies. In the US, see anything with Lauren Bacall, Audrey Hepburn, or Cary Grant.
2. Everything from the 70’s to the mid 90’s. This was really the golden age of Bollywood. The movies were for the most part interesting, the girls were innocent and fully covered, all sexuality was implied and never shown (seriously, not even kissing), and there were great songs from most of the movies. Indian kids growing up in the late 70’s were fully exposed to this section and probably have a firm affinity for this era. These are my personal favorite too.
3. Anything after 1995. After that approximate time, Bollywood started selling its soul little by little and becoming more western. There are many more “Item Girls” (Hot girls who are loose with their favors), shorts and cleavage are common, and the songs have definitely lost some of the Indian soul and quality. They just seem like a cheap ripoff of some of the older movies. I understand that the world is flattening as we speak, but this just makes me sad how much movies have lost.

Bollywood has a whole lineup of actors and actresses that make a buttload of money, just like their American counterparts. Some have been around for quite some time and some have better acting skills than others. I personally prefer actors and actresses that have been around for a good long time (think Salman Khan, Shah Rukh Khan, and Akshay Kumar) just because they seem to bring back some tradition and some of the magic that movies used to have.

If you’re not familiar with the genre, I highly suggest you check it out. You probably won’t like it at first. If you grew up on a strict diet of Hollywood movies, it will take you a long time to stop laughing, especially if you watch some of the older stuff. It does grow on you and you end up getting sucked into the innocence.

Becky

A is for Alcohol

Listening to: Hai Koi Hum Jaisa from Dhaani

Here we go trying to catch up on alphabet blogging.

Anyone who knows me at all knows that with a smidgeon less discipline, I would be a raging alcoholic. Well, I would have been in the US, but hooch is simply too expensive to guzzle here… so I’m afraid alcoholism is out, at least for now.

We have finally located the newspaper guy in our building and are now getting newspapers delivered to our house. Can I get an AMEN! Seriously, that guy has been harder to find than Carmen Sandiego.

I was reading an article that said that scientists discovered that people feel more sexy and confident when they have an alcoholic drink in their hand and are drinking it. All together now – well duh! Alcohol lowers your anxiety levels and helps you not worry about being an ass in front of others. Well now we have science to back us up on this. I’m not sure why this make the 2^nd page of the newspaper, but who cares. 

Here’s to your sexiness and your confidence. Drink up!

Becky

G is for Guilt Manifesto

Mood: Calm, for now

Listening to: Random Hindi songs

I’m trying to follow the A-Z blogging in April. I’m already a little behind, but I’m hoping to catch up today. I was going to wait to post this, but I don’t have an “A” post ready….so we’re going to sub in “G” for today.

I’m sure that this post will offend at least 1 person. To that person, take it or leave it, it is what it is. I really don’t care either way.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about feeling guilty and why people like to make you feel that way. Make no mistake, there are actually people who like that, and not passively. I feel there is definitely a place in our lives for guilt. Without it, society would devolve into a hot, steaming mess of brutality and anarchy. We all have parameters in which we need to abide to make life in a community setting possible. I am not referring to the type of guilt and social obligation that constrains us from boiling each other in hot oil for giggles.

I’m talking about the type of guilt that other people impose on you to make you fit into how they see the world. You know the one, the insidious, anxious feeling that is programmed into you from a very young age, working its way into your psyche so that you end up feeling guilty all on your own. The one that seeks out original ideas and brutally kills them for daring to be different. The one that makes you second guess your every move according to what other people expect of you.

Due to some really tough home situations, I have had thick skin since my teenage years. I’ve compared myself to a rhino, and I tell you, it’s not really that far off the mark. It takes a LOT to make me feel upset or guilty at anything people say. Certain people’s opinions (my husband, my mother) matter more to me than others, but for the most part, I can confidently say that I am happy to march to the beat of my own drum without feeling bad about it. I also have been blessed with a husband who has helped me by always encouraging me to be proud of who I am and always try to become a better person.

I find guilt imposed on you by other people to be almost useless. If you look at the other person’s motivations, you will most likely find that that their intent was to make your behavior easier on themselves to palate. What I would like to know is why this is so important. Life is hard. People are in fact individuals. We just do not all fit the same mold.  Why would it seem like a good idea not to celebrate who someone is, but rather guilt them into acting how you thought they ought to. This is the place where creativity and individuality go to die.

Another thing about guilt that absolutely pushes my buttons is people who expect you to feel guilty for being good at something or having something good happen to you. Most likely, it will be people close to you who do this. The averted eyes, the “wow, how great for you” with a less than sincere tone. I get it, no one likes to listen to bragging and sometimes, you just can’t avoid jealousy. Even with this caveat, the people closest to you should not be the ones trying to drag you down, even though this happens all too often.

I mentioned this in my blog post “Baby Mama Wanna Be.” A synopsis – my best friend has 4 kids, 2 boys and 2 girls. I would give my left arm, leg, and possibly boob to have at least 1 more kid. After hearing that she was expecting her youngest 2, it was almost physically painful to hear and congratulate her and try my best to be happy for her. But I did it because I love that girl and I genuinely AM happy for her. Why in the world should she feel guilty about those blessings because of a want in my life? The answer is, she shouldn't.

So no – I won’t apologize for being a white girl who knows how to drape her own saris, and cook Indian food. I won’t apologize for preferring to shop in the village and walk there by myself. I won’t apologize for taking life by the balls and enjoying my stay in India and not hating all of the uncomfortable things. No, I absolutely won’t apologize for being smart and reading big complicated books. No, I won’t apologize for my taste in clothes, music, or my pictures on my wall.  I won’t apologize for being musically able or all the years I took piano lessons. I will not apologize for being quiet when I have nothing to say or just don’t want to talk and I will not apologize when I don’t smile because life is hard for me. I absolutely won’t apologize for the way I’ve chosen to raise my children or conduct my marriage. I will not apologize or feel guilty for having shoulders broad enough to walk, talk and think on my own. I will not apologize for being strong enough to stand on my own, even if I choose to share my life with my spouse.

I am the way I am because I have gone down the roads set before me in life and took some of those experiences and used to them to shape myself into what I am today. I am this way because I decided early on that I wanted to be proud of myself and develop things in myself that I admired. I did not land up on earth how I am now, it took years of stumbling and pulling myself back up to get here. I am not perfect, but I am damn proud of all the hard work it took me to get where I am. For that reason alone, I will not ever apologize for who I am. If it makes you uncomfortable, I will understand that, but don’t you dare try and make me feel guilty for who I am and try to invalidate all the work I did to get here. I’m definitely not done either. It only gets  better from here.

Becky

Thoughts Exploding out of my Fingers

Mood: Velocoraper – like. Seriously. Duck and cover.

Listening to: Civil War – Guns N Roses

For reasons that I’ll explain later in this blog, I needed to write today. Unfortunately, today is not great personally for me so I’m really afraid this blog entry will come out sounding bitter, angry, and not just a little bit whiney. My apologies if this happens. Feel free to skip today and move on to something with a little more unicorns, rainbows, and general sunshine shooting out people’s butts if you’re so inclined.

Since my departure for a new life half way around the world, my communication with people who are not technically required to communicate with me (read: not family) has been a little spotty. My oh so mediocre history of communication does not put me in a favorable light when it comes to getting in contact with people.  I am not a social butterfly that makes friends everywhere and the minute she lands. It takes me a LONG time to settle into a place and get to know people. Then slowly slide into friendship. We were blessed to be able to stay in New York for almost 7 years (unheard of if you know my husband and I at all, we bounce around a lot!) and had a beautiful group of friends that we were dearly attached to.  One of the most challenging things about  taking a step off the cliff and plunging into a new situation, either 1 state away or half a world, is overcoming the people barrier. It’s not a language thing, it’s not a fear thing, it’s just taking the time to get to know people and slowly become friends.

This being said, I don’t talk a lot in real life. Unless you are my mother, then I talk your ear off every time I call you, but I digress. I’m not really unhappy with this either. I’m just not the chatty type. Unless I’ve been into the merlot, but that’s a whole other blog post. I have two small children who require almost ceaseless, mindless chatter. They are home on summer vacation right now. After I’ve spent the day talking with them, I find myself craving a small hidey-hole to go sit in. What I do however have is an excess of thoughts floating around in my brain fighting to get out. All these thoughts coupled with a general lack of people to have intelligent conversations with (i.e. nothing in reference to Sponge bob, Popeye, or Oggie and the cockroaches) makes writing indispensible to me. It really is the only way to get stuff out of my head.

As the years have gone by, I’ve become more and more attached to having all of my thoughts written down and organized. Writing has become a joy for me that I crave.

Unfortunately, writing takes some semblance of concentration for me and a certain mindset. If I’m feeling frustrated, overwhelmed, or just plain angry, I can’t write. Well, I can, but then I can’t stand the tone my writing takes. That bitter, sarcastic mopey tone that I can’t stand. I hate listening to myself be like this even more than listening to other people carry on like this.

Sometimes it isn’t an attitude problem, it’s the sheer current of life that pulls me along without a chance to sit and write. I have a family to take care of, a job, and interests outside of writing. This is most frustrating when words are literally exploding out of my fingertips, yet I just can’t find the time to get them down. As you have probably noticed as of late, I have started writing longer blog posts, which in turn need longer time to be written and edited.

The third thing that keeps me from writing when I have the time is plain old vanilla procrastination. I like to play Spider while I formulate ideas in my head, pausing to note down ideas/sentences that invade my head. The only problem with this is that Spider is addictive. What could have been a 20 minute brainstorm can quickly turn into an hour and a half time suck. I know it’s ridiculous, but sometimes that’s the way I roll.

My blogs have always been the way that I cater to the need to write. I do occasionally write fiction geared towards a strictly adult audience, but I feel blogging is more up my alley. I don’t write for anyone else. No one pays me. I do it for the sheer love of the art of taking letters, syllables, words, and sentences and weaving them together to create something.

So there it is, all out on the table. I will most likely be writing for the rest of my life. I love it, I need it, and I will do it. Hopefully on a regular basis.

Becky