Amma and Me

So I was initially writing about Math and Me, but was rather cruelly reminded that I’m still unemployed (read : un-placed). And “I hate math” written all over my blog or all over an article isn’t going to look good to potential employers coming to campus. Yeah okay they’re not going to painstakingly search for Parvathy Sarat’s blog with keywords to see if she’s a good candidate BUT WHAT IF THEY DO, OKAY?

[If any such personality’s reading this, no I don’t hate math, that’s the story of the protagonist of my story. I know, my readers are easily misled, heehee].

The decision to not write anything that tarnishes my imaginary goodemployeecandidateimage came after a conversation with my mother. My eldest brother’s been staying in Delhi for the past 6 years and the two of them have talked over the phone almost every single day during this time, that’s 365×6 times (kindly do the calculation yourself cos I hate um never mind). The second brother left home 4 years back and the way he talks to my parents, more talking takes place among them over their phones on a single day than I do at home over a week.

So today, there’s meen curry on the stove, I’m sitting on a plastic stool next to it, doing shit on my phone (no puns please) and amma’s on the phone with my brother.

“Amma, njan porath povumbo ingane daily onnum vilikulla OK, paranjilaannu venda”, I tell her.

Amma: (on the phone) “Dey kanna, paru parayua paru veetilnnu maari nikumbo kannane pole daily vilikkathillannu”

(turns to me) –dramatic mode : ON – “Atleast yearly vilikuo paru?”

Me: “Ah monthly vilikum” (realize that’s too long) “or maybe weekly. Daily vilikkulla anyway”. (puccham on my face)

Amma: “Athentha?”

Me: “Ha athu pinne, porath avumbo eniku vere pani kanum rather than talking to you guys all day long, joli cheyanam, etc etc etc”

Amma: “Kanna, parunu joli cheyanamnu” (turns to me) “Alla paru ethu jolide karyama parayunne? Joli onnum ayillalo” –laughter-

And I’m guessing the person at the other end also joined in -_-

PS: I SHOULD have written something warm and nice for Christmas but no Santa turned up at my place this year folks.

 

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Finally starting My Blog

Final year/semester of B.Tech –

You realize you don’t want to work an IT job or a Core job or any jobby job for that matter. Babies aren’t really your thing, they cry too much, would somebody pay you to take care of puppies? You realize you are now 21, you will be 22 in a couple of months and you’ve been spending the last 4 years (almost like a fifth of your life) in a subject that you don’t want anything to do with after graduation. You have no clue as to what to do after the 4 months of college that’s left. You realize you’ve practically wasted years of academics that could’ve been effectively spent studying something you actually like. You realize you don’t even know what that something you actually like is. You have no idea what to do with your life. You panic.

No, the last para isn’t about you, it’s all me. “You” just sounded better than “I”. So I had, um, a couple of mild and severe panic attacks in the past semester, but I’ve come to develop a certain mechanism to handle them which works fairly well. Except the two times that I had to be quarantined.

Step 1: Notify all my closest friends that I’m worried/confused/close to a cardiac arrest when I think of the future.

Step 2: Listen to what they have to say, mostly involves “same here” if the friend is doing B.Tech, “so are most of the others” if not.

Step 3: Calm down. (You are not alone is the best therapy ever). Sleep, wake up forgetting all the exasperating shit, go back to my life till the panic sets in another day.

Now, this is how I take my life decisions. Oh wait I haven’t taken any for myself. Either way it’s a ritual to consult her before tough ones and also after I screw up everything. Mostly because I never listen, still.

Screenshot_2015-12-22-00-58-55.pngThis is a pretty emotional moment for me, posting a Whatsapp screenshot in public. Yes, the convo’s been scrolled to a strategic point so that the (more) embarrassing stuff can’t  be seen.

Which is when I remembered about my TRUSTMEYOUREALIVE – name of my blog- that’s been dead since it was last alive.  Okay so I’ll confess I created this blog back in 2014 when I wrote something new after quite sometime and wanted someplace fancy to post it. I mean like a page just for like an article is like fancy, no?

This time, I decided to listen to Miriam after all. Blogging’s free and I could always read it later to myself, if nobody else does.

Special thanks to my brother(s) who bought me my new lap which is pretty much the only reason I’m here cos time and again, I’d thought of posting random stuff I’d written but the idea of sitting in front of the PC in my First floor hall on the molded plywood chair and typing it out made me drop it. Wow, I really need to start writing shorter sentences.

So here’s hoping I start writing online regularly :D. (OK AMMA, whether online or not doesn’t matter as long as I’m writing!)

PS: Sorry if the beginning of this post misled you into thinking it’s about handling panic attacks or life decisions even.

PPS: This was meant to be a teeny-weeny post of max 200 characters. Sorry for the long intro, you may now continue reading nonsense elsewhere.