Exit, pursued by a bear

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I found a copy of The Winter's Tale that had been lying around a nook in the Shire. As usual with everything in our apartment, I haven't a clue as to whom it belongs, but I hope its original owner doesn't mind that I've started bringing it back and forth to work.

Sometimes when I read works by really talented authors I start to feel dejected about my own writing and how it will never be as great as theirs. It's like when I used to hack away at the violin for hours and hours, scrutinizing over every inflection of every note until the perfectionist in me would get too frustrated to continue. My masochistic self would then go onto YouTube and watch a video of Heifetz playing the song like it was child's play - eyes closed, head a-jerkin', lips arranged in that sort of half smug, half bemused smile, the kind that only world-class violin virtuosos get to wear as a badge of unattainable perfection.

The great thing about reading Shakespeare is that his literary genius doesn't stem from his ability to play with words, per se. Instead, the guy makes up ridiculous new terms and expressions, assigns meaning to them, and basically announces to the rest of society, "Here, add this to Webster's. It's legit now." To me, this inventive quality of his, this stepping-out-of-the-box-and-running-a-mile-away-and-turning-around-and-blowing-a-raspberry-at-convention approach to writing is wonderfully fun and inspiring.

I haven't made it very far into the play yet, mostly because I felt compelled to read through the five million introductions (bad idea, spoiled everything ever) but here are a few of my favorite quotes so far:

"One good deed dying tongueless slaughters a thousand waiting upon that." (I.1.2 93-94)

"Would I knew the villain, I would land-damn him." (II.1 142-143)

"Happy star reign now!" (I.1.2 362)

Sometimes when I'm reading Shakespeare's more outlandish verses I imagine what it'd be like if I burst out in Shakespearean tongue from time to time. "Yessss there's pizza leftover in the kitchen! Happy star reign now!" Then I laugh out loud, usually on a crowded bus full of exhausted crabby people. Then it's awkward for the rest of the ride.

Pan's Labyrinth

is what I'm currently watching as I type this entry. What a brilliant movie. I remember watching it for the first time back in senior year of high school and being simultaneously horrified and fascinated by Guillermo del Toro's monstrous, fantastic universe.

Today was the first day of work. Boy it was weird, walkin' around downtown and seeing all them pretty blond girls wearing pencil skirts and clean-cut boys in their boat shoes and pressed pants. I can't believe these people (and I am one of them!) exist in the same planet as the type of pedestrians I'd see in India. Besides the obvious physical and socioeconomic differences, I think what sets these people apart the most from those in developing nations is our sense of entitlement. Young urban professionals know they're entitled to the best jobs, the best educations, and the best pampering because they (we! so difficult to keep myself in check here) have been used to it from day one. We have choices, and as a result, we walk with a spring in our step that announces to the world, "Hey, I'm here. Watch out."

The average Indian pedestrian, however, is probably a young male with just enough education to get a decent salary to bring home to his family. He works long hours in a position he's had for years and years and has no intention of  quitting. The choices he faces - both day-to-day and in the long run - are much fewer in number, and his priorities are simple and straightforward: support his family, find a good wife, honor his gods. The focus of his life is set on those around him, and not himself as an individual. I think that beyond the material wealth or luxuries, it is this sense of individuality that money breeds - and that that's what gets out of control the fastest - the expectation that life will continue and only improve at this privileged pace.

Fuuuck, the bottle scene just happened. I looked away but the sounds were still crunchy and horrifying. On that note, I'm going to close my laptop and stop being antisocial, my roommates must think I am craze-o.

Hi, I'm back.

And it feels soooooooo good.

Almost.

It's a bit strange because I came back to almost the exact same Shire that I'd left six weeks ago. We had a dinner party with the same delicious food, the same old friends, the same circle of inside jokes and shared memories that has united and kept us together as friends all these years. It felt like I'd never even left the cozy comforts of my orange dining room. And yet, my thoughts were as far away tonight as they had been the last time. They were with the new friends I'd made over the past month and a half, the new jokes, and the new experiences, most of which I know I will never ever have again - or at least not for a very long time.

I know that this longing for the way things were will pass quickly. There's no real point reminiscing about the past and thinking futile thoughts anyway. Just gotta let time do its thing and enjoy the present state of where I am and who I'm with.

Going abroad has definitely instilled a sense of confidence in my ability to adapt to new situations and learn new skills. Over the course of my six weeks in India, I found myself vowing to start this or improve that or restart blah many, many times. Here they are:

- Read more books, and not just novels
- Improve guitar skills and find the courage to play in front of people
- Learn a programming language
  - Or at the very least, learn CSS/HTML/Javascript
- Play around with more image-editing and design software
- Try to make risotto out of pizza box ingredients (lol)
- Take more interesting pictures and figure out a way of storing and sharing them effectively (this weird Flickr/Facebook combination is not working out)
- Blog more
- Figure out what the fuck happened in Inception

Reading should come easily, as I have a 40-minute commute every day. I'm hoping to set aside an hour each day for the guitar, but I already know that's a relatively ambitious and unrealistic amount of time. I'm going to get started on those two for the week and encourage myself by blogging about them.

Waking up in seven hours to go back to ThoughtWorks, only at a different office. I'm determined to make this jetlag my bitch.