It is raining in my city. I love this time of year; it makes my heart feel as though it were ten times its normal size.
This morning was an extension of last night, which is a pretty way of saying I didn't sleep because I stayed up all night watching season 3 of Gilmore Girls.1
I have noticed that the most dangerous ideas show up around four in the morning following a sleepless night. The latest in this series is a letter. (Oh, I know. All my worst ideas are letters. Or emails. It's a given.) It was to have been (oh horrors!) a FutureMe letter, only addressed to someone who was emphatically not FutureMe. Luckily, I was far too tired this morning, and far too busy the rest of the day, to actually carry it through. Thank the heavens for saving me from a fate worse than death, e.g. ignominy! But enough about my miseries, let's talk about me.
This year has been such a busy year. I passed my thesis with dignity, had inappropriate thoughts about the L-word, went on my first two dates with two different people, got a job (that pays me next to nothing but which I am grudgingly beginning to appreciate for the opportunities it offers), conducted site visits with aplomb, took notes at international conferences, made serious plans about future studies, conducted quizzes, went trekking, photo-walking and caferati-ing, met multitudes of new people, bought my sister her first phone, rejected multiple potential suitors that my mother picked out on tamilmatrimony.com, and-
gave my first public performance.
Indeed, boys and girls. T was in Gandhigram over the weekend with the sister and a couple of far relations-by-marriage putting up a grand show of dance and music for a hall full of children from the ages of five to sixteen. The sister's music didn't work, and we had to wait for the kind audio-people to fetch us a DVD player so she could dance her dances. The T sang four songs well enough to be pleased with herself, and then nearly cried when all the little girls mobbed her afterward.
*sigh*
It was a beautiful weekend. I don't know that I have the words to describe it yet. Perhaps in a little while.
1. Yes, I am a fan.
This morning was an extension of last night, which is a pretty way of saying I didn't sleep because I stayed up all night watching season 3 of Gilmore Girls.1
I have noticed that the most dangerous ideas show up around four in the morning following a sleepless night. The latest in this series is a letter. (Oh, I know. All my worst ideas are letters. Or emails. It's a given.) It was to have been (oh horrors!) a FutureMe letter, only addressed to someone who was emphatically not FutureMe. Luckily, I was far too tired this morning, and far too busy the rest of the day, to actually carry it through. Thank the heavens for saving me from a fate worse than death, e.g. ignominy! But enough about my miseries, let's talk about me.
This year has been such a busy year. I passed my thesis with dignity, had inappropriate thoughts about the L-word, went on my first two dates with two different people, got a job (that pays me next to nothing but which I am grudgingly beginning to appreciate for the opportunities it offers), conducted site visits with aplomb, took notes at international conferences, made serious plans about future studies, conducted quizzes, went trekking, photo-walking and caferati-ing, met multitudes of new people, bought my sister her first phone, rejected multiple potential suitors that my mother picked out on tamilmatrimony.com, and-
gave my first public performance.
Indeed, boys and girls. T was in Gandhigram over the weekend with the sister and a couple of far relations-by-marriage putting up a grand show of dance and music for a hall full of children from the ages of five to sixteen. The sister's music didn't work, and we had to wait for the kind audio-people to fetch us a DVD player so she could dance her dances. The T sang four songs well enough to be pleased with herself, and then nearly cried when all the little girls mobbed her afterward.
*sigh*
It was a beautiful weekend. I don't know that I have the words to describe it yet. Perhaps in a little while.
1. Yes, I am a fan.
2 comments:
Arjun: suddenly I want to know, too. o you do it, and then tell me; because I don't want to be blamed for the consequences of such an act.
El: I 'm so glad. Not that there is anything wrong with being a "chick show" except by implication...
We should talk about them some time. :)
NS - thank you. :)
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