Last Seen Blogs
oliviastokesfad-blog
OLIVIA STOKES
littlestlilguy
Hey!
dreamsndmadness
That Shit Was Shakespearean
joellwiz
Sem título
Text
“Victim mentality”
If it’s essential for parents to want their kids to be better versions of themselves, is it not acceptable for kids to want the same from the parents? Or are the kids too “naive”, and “don’t know what they want”?
Well, for one thing, kids do know when they want more love.
I sat in silence having porridge for breakfast planning the workday in my head, when Mom uncharacteristically decides to give me company. “Why do you carry so many cards in your wallet?” she asks.
She knows just the right buttons to press at the right time. I say nothing. Like always. What she means is why do I carry around my IDs and my debit and credit cards in my wallet when I could carry only the essentials, while keeping some safely at home (in the event of me losing my wallet). She means well.
“Do not go through my wallet,” I reply, trying to keep calm while my slightly raised voice betrays me. Well the conversation ends with her getting defensive and saying “I don’t go through your wallet,” etc.
Lies.
You see, she has been doing that for years now. Going through my drawer, my books, and my wallet. And that has perhaps made me even more fiercely protective of my privacy. When I stuff sponge in the keyhole of my bedroom door, I come back from work, to see it removed. It has come to a point where I can no longer consider that space as my home. It’s not. It’s my parents’s home, not mine.
Perhaps I’ll paint an incomplete picture without giving you a backstory. I was brought up in the tea gardens of Assam and Kerala, while studying in Darjeeling and Ooty, respectively. My brother (5 years older), studied in the same boarding schools. It was a beautiful life, the ones you read in story books, with streams, outdoor fun, childish adventures, et al.
Soon though, we moved to the city (Calcutta), a noisy chaotic mess that people somehow found ‘convenient’. My grades dropped, my interactions with people changed, I suddenly had access to all the distractions that a city had to offer, but most crucially, I came back home to my parents every day after school. From ‘talking’ to them once every two weeks by an inland letter, now I had to talk to them every day.
As I struggled to adjust to this life (from the real jungle to this concrete one), my grades fell dramatically. Soon whatever talk was had with my parents, revolved around this. Screw friendships, screw play time, first get your grades straight then think about other things. Yeah I remember quite clearly what Dad said - there’s no point in making friends; eventually they’ll all go away and no one will be there for you when you need them. You need to be able to do things yourself.
Great advice. So I stopped allowing myself to get close to people emotionally. always kept a distance. Didn’t go out with them as much. Heck even if I wanted to, I couldn’t because I never got any money, because you know, my grades were not good enough. So here I was in a new city, in a new setting, new school, new acquaintances, distancing myself from friends, no money to hang out with them either, but somehow a new girlfriend.
Yes, in the 8th standard, I began seeing someone. Respite from the other crap. Also made me feel good about myself. I had something (someone) to look forward to everyday. She paid for everything when we went out. She called me on my brother’s phone at night. She was not perfect for me, but at the time, she was what I needed.
Predictably enough, my folks found out about it. And when they did, all my money (whatever I had managed to accrue) was taken, my landline privileges revoked, and thus began the age of monitoring. My mom would be around every time I got a call. If I had to step out, I would be given exact change for the bus/auto fare. I had to borrow money from my brother to go out with her, buy her gifts on birthdays, buy my friends gifts (”what’s the point when you won’t get gifts from them in return” - probably because I never got the money to treat them somewhere. Nor did I invite them home because I always thought they would inconvenience Mom, and she wouldn’t miss an opportunity to tell me how it was not ideal to have them over). So I convinced myself that celebrating birthdays was a bad idea, and that only superficial people (read: rich) do it. I mean who celebrates the day they became a burden to the earth. I found meaning in the philosophy that productivity should be celebrated, and not mere existence.
Sounds fair, I guess.
I think they got used to the fact that I would probably never achieve the academic heights I once reached. My other achievements went largely unnoticed. When I became the school’s football captain, the house captain, regional finalist in the American Spelling Bee (twice), the top scorer in the Green Olympiad (nation-wide), one of the highest performers in the ASSET test (nation-wide), and other inconsequential things.
If home was a pressure cooker, at least in school things began to improve. Sometime during that blissful period, Mom saw me watching porn. My brother’s collection, but obviously I couldn’t out him. I told them I found the disc in school and next thing you know they come to school and talk to the principal regarding this. Yet another father-son moment that could have been...
Then after the 10th Standard, I had to change school. Money was short and the school wasn’t going to reduce its fees. So off I went, leaving the rich kids of DPS, to a local school. The teachers here would also take tuition classes of these very students (so ethics went beautifully out of the window). The kids here would take these tuition classes, else they would be subjected to grading bias.
Run like a typical government institution, it was no surprise that the people who came to study here, too were from a different background, and culture. Barring a handful, I couldn’t have a conversation with any one of them. This was the phase where I got addicted to computer games. I would leave for school but instead of actually going, I started visiting this cyber cafe. I couldn’t bring myself to go to school. In the 12th grade, my attendance dropped to 19% before the school called my parents asking about me.
What ensued was a slap on the face (quite literally) and even more monitoring. So much so that my brother was then tasked with accompanying me to school every day. Perhaps I deserved it. It was the most important year of my school and I was slacking.
Then came college. Went to Mumbai. 3 years there on a pocket money of 1,500 per month (in Mumbai, yes). Sure I had hostel, and food. Perhaps I did not need more. I stopped buying clothes altogether, not that I used to do much shopping before. Again, who needs new clothes when you have your mind to colour your world. Death to superficiality! Never mind the embarrassment of going out on that rare occasion looking like the change in your wallet (useful sure, but you’d rather have notes).
Did not get placed anywhere so came back home directly after college, with nowhere to go (story for another day). I was definitely living up to my father’s dream. Did a course which he did not approve of. Took 5 years to complete a 3-year course. And came back home without a job.
Finally though I managed to bag a sales job in a multinational company. Something I was clearly not suited for. But I took it because the money was not bad (anything more than zero was not bad). Within 3 months I felt the pressure to leave, and that is exactly what I did. Didn’t tell anyone I was struggling. How could I tell my parents? They thought here I was at least doing something instead of just lazing around in the house. I couldn’t muster the courage to tell them I couldn’t do this, and that I was thinking of quitting.
Anyway when Dad found out that I left the company, the first thing he asked was, “Did you leave, or were you fired?” In hindsight, I think he just genuinely wanted to understand the circumstances of my departure. Well, I guess I would have been fired eventually had I not left. I stayed jobless for a while after that. Applied to loads of places, even if it meant doing something I did not particularly like. I couldn’t stay there could I, using up the space in the home, while contributing nothing. Here I was crying myself to sleep for failing to launch but what good would that do? I needed to stand on my feet and do something for myself instead of moping all the time.
Finally I got a job in a content writing firm in Bombay. Once again to the land of opportunities. I think my parents were proud, to some extent. My dad cried as my train left the station. The second stint wasn’t that bad. I was getting by, barely. But it was nice to be able to stretch my legs. But good things rarely last, and soon I was moving about more than I wanted, getting ripped off more than I would have liked, and then came an opportunity to open a new branch office in Calcutta.
I came back. Left all my clients, my independent life, because how often does one get an opportunity to head a branch office. But I thought being 24, and a person who does all this would change the perception that my parents would have of me. But predictably Mom began to rifle through my things once again and found weed in my drawer. Here I thought we had moved beyond this surveillance. But apparently not. However she decided not to question me about this at all. In fact she took the box and kept it - perhaps wanting an escape from all the failures I’ve brought upon them.
Anyway, today she came and asked me about the cards in the wallet thing. Well, she was right. Like they always are. Perhaps I don’t know anything.
0 notes
Text
Fallen
It hurts. It hurts endlessly. There I said it. I’ve allowed myself to say it. I want to say so many things to you. I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want this. If this is what my life is going to be, I don’t want any of it. I only want you Aparna. It was always you. It is you. And it’ll continue to be you. You are the one for me. And I want to be the one for you. So bad.
I want to go back and be the one who always deserved. I want to be everything for you. I want to be your world. It hurt so much when you said you weren’t ever happy with me. It’s hard to say in words how much it broke me. Piece by piece, it tore me apart that I couldn’t make you happy.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get the privilege of being with you. I so wish it would happen. I stand at the edge everyday looking at the heavens with my chest open, ready to be struck. One way or the other it is killing me. It is killing me Aparna. I don’t know how to live anymore. I don’t know…
How can I be happy when I lost someone like you? I am so sorry I couldn’t make you happy. I’m so sorry. You deserved all the happiness and I couldn’t give it to you. You lied to keep me happy. You lied when you said you were happy, just to keep me happy. It must have torn you too…because I know you’re a kind soul. I know it must have hurt you leaving me like this. I can imagine. I was so caught up with how I felt that I couldn’t understand it wasn’t easy for you too.
I’m sorry to have put you through that. I’m really am. I’m sorry I didn’t see that I wasn’t fighting for you, when you so wanted me to. You even said it…but I didn’t hear you. I’m sorry I pushed you away even though you hoped that I wouldn’t do it. You were the best thing that ever happened to me Aparna. You changed so much n me. You taught me so much. Every now and then I’m reminded of the things I shouldn’t have done, and train myself to not do it again. All those things that probably pushed you away.
I’m always going to love you Aparna, and I’ll always wait for you. I want you to know that. I’ll come back to you in a heartbeat if you ever want me to. I want to make you happy and show you that I’m a changed man. I’m ready to be the better version of myself with you. If you ever want me to, that is. Until then and beyond, be happy. Always. You deserve it. You deserve it so much.
Love always
0 notes
Text
Turnover
You are the water to my creek,
The air to my lungs,
And the sun to my soul.
You are the smile to my lips
The blush in my cheeks,
And the light in my eyes.
Now the creek’s run dry
Laying the bed bare,
Cracked by the light.
Barren is the soil
Where once was life
Blighted and destroyed
In the peaceful strife.
0 notes
Text
Thought #26
Drift in the wilderness of your thoughts. Unshackle yourself from the worldly tethers and free your mind. You can never be in total control, for control is an illusion. Reach out for those precious little memories in the crevices of your mind and relive them. This is your space, and only yours.
0 notes
Text
Courtship
Courtship is an ironic game. Many a times does one come across these heart touching quotes and stories. Feelings that you can relate with. There'll be a certain combination of words that you thought only you felt. However, in a social platform you will find many others who would relate to the said text. By extension, you would assume that the other person thinks like you, feels like you. The attraction then grows for that person. But when it comes to initiating the courtship, one would find that it cannot be used. Such feelings, as genuine as they may be, come across as 'too strong' and would only aid in driving away the person. So, if a deep, meaningful conversation cannot take place between two individuals meeting for the first time, it leaves only the superficial things to be discussed. And we fall for the person based on superficialities? It is no wonder that relationships have become a joke.
0 notes
Text
Through The Dark
It is soul crushing. You feel lonely. You are lonely. It physically hurts. The tears come like a hot wave, repeatedly. You think you’re done. But it starts all over again. “When you lose something you can’t replace.” This line really stings. It is true. No, you will never find another one like him. But you will find someone similar. You will make do. Slowly, your pain will fade away. Then you’ll find someone different. And that different will be the same. No you haven’t replaced anyone. You just made space for someone equally special. You will laugh again. You will love again. Most importantly, you will live again.
0 notes
Text
Soothing Image
It is scary thinking how someone, who left an indelible mark on you, becomes a stranger. What if you know, as a finality, that you would never meet that person again? They say that memories remain, but we all know that they fade away as time passes by. We are, our current selves, a result of minute touches by countless people, many of whom we have probably forgotten. You may think you are your own person, but in truth you are the realisation of a combination of ideas whose time has come. Because it is hard to admit that one does not belong to oneself, we find surprise in human behaviours and tendencies. We are pleasantly surprised when someone is quite similar to oneself, and alienated when someone can be vastly different. The failure to perceive and understand the influences in one's life is the fundamental flaw that we call humanity.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Scholar Miserables
This is the time when I see most of my peers either completing their graduation or going further in their careers, or even spring for further studies. I sit at home all day long, wondering how to kill time. I thought, with my intelligence I would be able to bag a half decent job that would require my skills to be put to use. Instead, I play DOTA and Clash of Clans all day long, while spamming job applications to any company with a vacancy. One backlog. ONE backlog just because I refused to kiss the proverbial ass. I'm not going to let nostalgia distort the memory of college. It was horrible. A complete waste of my time. Faculty members deluded into thinking that they were the reincarnated form of gods. And a coursework so boring and generic, it would dull your mind in a matter of days. I realised this college wasn't for me in my very first class. After that it was 3 years of endurance amongst 'godly' professors, superficial peers, and a general atmosphere of decaying minds. And then I fell in love...
0 notes
Text
Weather Love
The weather is inexplicably tied to memories of you. It is more about how I remember you, as the weather changes. The hot summers remind me of your glowing skin, your irresistible smell; sweat trickling down your bare neck. The rain reminds me of that one chance I had to dance with you, but it never happened. How much I regretted it! It rained just once when we were together and I didn’t get a second chance. It reminds me of how joyous you would be when it rained after days of humid heat. Then came winter and all I ever cared about was keeping you warm. I remember the scarf I got you. The early mornings when we just wanted to snuggle and warm each other with our bodies. Even the pre-breakfast ice cream! And then came spring and early summer, when you wore your floral dresses and perfume and tied your hair in a braid. All you wanted was to go out, together, for shopping, lunch, dinner and more often than not, just to be in the company of each other.
You are with someone else now, and I am stuck in this cycle. You have moved on while I am still in love with you.
0 notes
Conversation
Travel. Not.
What if I never get to travel the world? What if this wish remains just that? I know of countless people who wish to set foot in distant lands. I know very few who have actually been able to do it. This thought scares me, because I want to believe that it is possible for me, yet reality slowly seems to be creeping in to my thoughts.
It pains me to see friends of mine posting photographs of beautiful places from Alaska to Moscow, taking the longer route of course. Closer home, I see friends travelling from Kerala to Kashmir, and I end up thinking what it would be like if I were there.
I know what many would say, if you put your mind to it, it will happen. Or, if you really want something the universe will conspire to ensure that it does. Let me just say that none of it has ever been true for me. It has never happened. Not once. In fact it can be said that the universe conspired AGAINST me. Moreover what if it is my destiny, staying here in this concrete jungle never able to move out. Stuck in this decrepit society where I can never seem to fit in. Reality or pessimism, I don't know. Scary? Definitely.
0 notes
Text
Do you really want to read a first post?
So, I have thought and thought, and thought some more and finally created a blog. No I do not think I’m a good writer, although I did write a fairly readable story of an alien from Pluto visiting Earth after it ceased to be a planet. Also, I had composed a few cheesy poems in my teenage years. I think we’ve all been through THAT phase.
I have tried to maintain a diary on quite a number of occasions but either they’ve been read by someone else or I simply lost touch with myself. Either way, it never lasted more than a week. And since people somehow manage to read our diaries, heck, why don’t we simply put it all here. Wouldn’t that be scandalous.
I’m simply reiterating my thoughts as they come. Which brings me to the title of my first ever post. Don’t you sometimes think that books are made unreadable, less interesting and maybe even boring, when EVERYTHING is described for you? Whatever happened to one’s own imagination?! I find it quite distracting and even unnecessary. Stick to the story. You don’t have to, in vivid detail, describe the material of the road one is walking on, or whether the screws in a table are rusty. I’m an impatient reader I guess.
A new movie came out last week, Tomorrowland, starring George Clooney and Hugh Laurie among others. It was like an Atlas Shrugged meets Disney, utopian world that simply failed when it came to storytelling. A half-hearted attempt to recreate the world that Ayn Rand built, with neither the philosophy nor the childish pleasure when it comes to Disney movies. So yes, steer clear of the movie and do read Atlas Shrugged though it gets a little repetitive at times.
I’m going to have to abruptly sign off; playing DoTA 2. Until next time, and I promise it’ll get better (probably), auf wiedersehn!
2 notes
·
View notes