Shiva

Ouch

It hurts to have one's ideals crushed. If you're as idealistic as moi, you know that ideals are one of the few things that matter- values, humanity and compassion are what differentiate us from animals. Since I believe in love so strongly, it crushes me to know that it is so easily exchangeable and so undervalued in this world. When did this change occur? When did we learn to place a price tag on love? Why is it that I become so disappointed when a person I love very much chose convenience over love? Perhaps my expectations of people are too high and unrealistic. Is love even real, or is it just an idea? Were we humans always like this?

Such questions are what I struggle with daily.

Fortunate

Sometimes, I feel very fortunate. I just get lucky- like the fact that my traffic ticket was dismissed. I mean, at this point in my life, it would really hurt my pockets to pay that fine. It's never a good time to pay off fines and tickets, but now more then ever, I need those funds to pay for things that I genuinely need to move forward life wise or career wise.

I feel a little stuck sometimes. I go to sleep when I feel really overwhelmed, which is a bad habit, but I would rather do that than turn to more harmful addictions. I relax for a second just to feel my heart beat. All the depression and anxiety in the past year seems to have had a negative effect on my poor esophagus. I feel the area below my ribcage and untie the knots from my sore esophagus by massaging it with my fingers. Then, I close my eyes and attempt to meditate and ground myself. I think about how lucky I am and how I am named after "Shree", the Hindu goddess of fortune, beauty and prosperity. I am fine, I am well, and once I am awake, I will power on. It's my promise to myself.

Unless it's

mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it's a waste of your time. There are too many mediocre things in life. Love shouldn't be one of them.

-Dreams of an Insomniac

I begin

every day hoping that it will be better than the day before. Even as my heart breaks one hundred times in a single day, I remain good. I try to laugh along at the jokes that life plays on me. I love with all my heart everyday and I stopped expecting anything a long time back from anyone. I just hope that in the end, I will have made peace with myself knowing that I always made an effort to strive for the right things. I just hope that one day, the tears will be few and far between and that smiles will fill my world. Not sad smiles, but happy, fulfilled, content smiles.

Nightmares

My dreams are just weird sometimes, but the nightmares are downright deadly.

I was writing a letter in my dream, trying to list everything that I wanted in my lifetime, but I was unable to move the pen or lift it. Move to the next scene, I'm pregnant and something is sucking the life out of me, but I cannot exactly point to what was doing that. I just felt something that was pulling me down to the floor- a force strong enough to vacuum the unborn life out of me. I was resisting gravity with all my strength. I woke up and stared at the ceiling of my room for an hour since I could not sleep.

I don't know what this means- I hope I get to live to see my child. Before I go, I would want to have the chance to be a good daughter/ friend/ girlfriend/ wife/ actor/ mother.

Good times

Our friend Pooja finally turned 21. We pressured her to take tequila shots, but lightweight Pooja could not handle it and threw it all up. At least it made for good times and great memories.

Paying my dues

I saw the photo of the Krishna sculpture that he sent me in my email. It delighted me to get a glimpse of it, and it was not later until I wondered where he found it. It is at the Norton Museum in Pasadena, he replied. Oh, how lovely, I thought, and promised myself to visit it next week. However, I also wondered, can I take Vinitha with me? Minoti won't go to museums. My other friends are busy as well. I would probably have to go alone. Not that it bothers me to go alone, but it is always wonderful to visit a museum with someone who cares as much about art as you do.

Then, the thought struck me- he probably went with her. I do not care if he is best friends with his exes or has lunch/ dinner/ coffee/ drinks with them, or works with them. What vexes me is that this is someone who loves me and yet does not ever care to find out how much of an artist I truly am, and that I enjoy cultural experiences more than anything else. I am usually adjusted in his schedule somewhere between seeing his friends and getting some work done on the westside. He does not make love to her, but she gets to have the rest of him and his time. I love him unconditionally, and I don't expect him to reciprocate in the same way, but I deserve at least some respect and time, don't I? Do meetings always have to be over generic drinks and food? Recently, we went on a hike and to an improv show- I had fun. Why can't we have more variety? Why did he see fit to yell at me that night for inconvenience a stranger (whose car was behind mine) when I was dropping him off to his cousins' parking lot?

When I chose economics over arts, I did it for the kids and so that I would always be at least self sufficient. It does not make me any less of an artist- it just means that I am able to think rationally as well as creatively. I passed AP Art History in High School without ever having taken the class for it- I self studied and I kept up with art because I was so passionate about it.In fact, I still plan on going to art school and it is a feasible dream. 

I wondered if I am paying some sort of dues here for sins committed in the past. Do I deserve less than stellar treatment because of something that I did? I painted a Ganesha over a year ago- I shed tears in front of the painting as I posed him this question, and then it hit me- I interned for that criminal defense law firm. Although not every client was a criminal, some of them were clearly murderers/ rapists. I aided in their defense. That is probably why I deserve punishment today. I wonder if I would die a brutal death as a result of my missteps- but then, I think to myself, what is worse? Living a suffocated life or dying a brutal death and getting it over with? I tried to love others, but I realize that I could not. I know that I will not be able to. I do not know what kind of stuff I am made of, but I do know that most 24 year olds would not be able to deal with these things as well as I have. I live today and I haven't given up on life yet or turned to drugs or alcohol to deal with my circumstances- that's a testament to my strength. But I get so tired sometimes, so tired of fighting. I get so exhausted being good and responsible all the time. I want to just pay my dues and then get out of here. Finito.