Indian Ameri
Thursday
Jus sayin Bro....
The path between my sibling life has digressed to such an extent, that I had to write, "PS - What's the status of your life?" in one of those so-called-in-contact 'e-mails'.
Sheesh!!!
Is there any music I can take from these whiplashes?
Labels: Irony of life, So-So mood
Friday
Sour and Sweet!!!
An exciting finish to a weeks Friday schedule, a conference for the learning tooth-fairies, and the early spring break for the other students. These along with a few other uncontrollable events left me with the option of fixing a dental evaluation appointment only for the 19th of March. While, the 'mard'/man in me did not cave in to the 'dard'/pain (I still don't understand where/from whom I heard this dialogue from, but it's giving me some cheer faces), somehow on Tuesday the pain took a trip to hell. After hardening eight chewing gums in a span of six early morning working hours, I had no other option, but to get admitted in the ER.
At least that was what the original plan had been. With the barcode of a name wrapped around my wrist, things seemed optimistically certain of getting alleviated. Two hours later, with nearly giving up on the last bit of self-control to not pull every hair of the scalp, I asked humbly to the ER nurse, "I've been here for two hours. Is the doctor coming?" After counting every bit of hair I had plucked of sheer pain in my imagination twice, I went again and enquired, "Ma'am, it's been four hours......" Walking back in agony, I started doing the 'expecting dad'. For every ten to and fros I traveled I checked the wall clock and it seemed like time had snail juice written all over its path.
Seven brutal hours later I walked to the shift over nurse, bit the plastic bar code wrapped around the wrist, pulled it, set it on the window gap of her counter, smiled, and said, "I guess my teeth is all fine now. I can chew good" and pointed my finger to the bar code. I finished with "Please cancel my emergency off the schedule. Thank you" and exited. Suffering on the edge along with a few partial things I witnessed took evasive action in such a manner. The severity in pain though should have been the reason for keeping me insomniac on bed, the guilt of such an act kept me awake. Thanks to it, the happiness of donating blood the number of times more than my age the next day all dissolved into a painful fever. Ended up watching this again. Hopefully the fever doesn't hold me from going to this on Friday (Would be 5 yrs in a row).
Today, a mail from the hospital came in regretting that their standards of service could not suit my emergency needs. "My foot!" was the instant remark in my mind considering the fact that they treated really sick, old, and really young people the same way - by letting them wait and suffer till they are Grey enough for an Anatomy of more insurance money. (This is the fifth time I had been in the ER and I've seen too much shit) Too bad, they had close ones comforting in their sickness and holding on to this brutal concept of an ER in the US.
Anyways, the things I found in the seven vital hours of thoughtful food are
1. Pandora can be loaded with Indian songs (old ones too) and I've listened to this like a few ten times submerged in oblivion.
2. Moment before walking off to the nurse counter #1 - I had realized that the biggest advantage I had with the tooth ache was, 'I had full control over my #1 vice'. Heck, I was ready to test it further instead of rotting here.
3. Moment before walking off to the nurse counter #2 - "I'm getting old and I need something to rely on" buzzed from Pandora's rock channel and I decided I'd better start relying on self if things stay this way for a long time.
4. Moment before walking off to the nurse counter #3 - The person second next to me in terms of admit was a sick kid. He waited for the fricking same seven hours for no treatment. And I decided to contribute a push by simply walking off.
10 hrs later - Disappointed of how boring and same my alter ego was to the original me in my dream (nodding in disbelief)
Lunch - For the first time ever I hated the favorite French dip from Arbys coz the tongue has grown in admiration to self cooking (Colacassia fry, Bhindi masala, Palak Paneer, Malai Kofta, Fish Fry and Mango Sambhar in 1 week of home rest).
Now - The chemistry between desi senior lab members and Gori sisters of the lab is so bad that I am tempted to write a 2 page report on the obvious potential blunders of an hypothesis, the qualifier taking grad student has proposed. Hell, with it! I am sending it to the boss with a note that let him do the talking/discussion with the student. Guess, it's really big time to scoot from the current lab.
At least that was what the original plan had been. With the barcode of a name wrapped around my wrist, things seemed optimistically certain of getting alleviated. Two hours later, with nearly giving up on the last bit of self-control to not pull every hair of the scalp, I asked humbly to the ER nurse, "I've been here for two hours. Is the doctor coming?" After counting every bit of hair I had plucked of sheer pain in my imagination twice, I went again and enquired, "Ma'am, it's been four hours......" Walking back in agony, I started doing the 'expecting dad'. For every ten to and fros I traveled I checked the wall clock and it seemed like time had snail juice written all over its path.
Seven brutal hours later I walked to the shift over nurse, bit the plastic bar code wrapped around the wrist, pulled it, set it on the window gap of her counter, smiled, and said, "I guess my teeth is all fine now. I can chew good" and pointed my finger to the bar code. I finished with "Please cancel my emergency off the schedule. Thank you" and exited. Suffering on the edge along with a few partial things I witnessed took evasive action in such a manner. The severity in pain though should have been the reason for keeping me insomniac on bed, the guilt of such an act kept me awake. Thanks to it, the happiness of donating blood the number of times more than my age the next day all dissolved into a painful fever. Ended up watching this again. Hopefully the fever doesn't hold me from going to this on Friday (Would be 5 yrs in a row).
Today, a mail from the hospital came in regretting that their standards of service could not suit my emergency needs. "My foot!" was the instant remark in my mind considering the fact that they treated really sick, old, and really young people the same way - by letting them wait and suffer till they are Grey enough for an Anatomy of more insurance money. (This is the fifth time I had been in the ER and I've seen too much shit) Too bad, they had close ones comforting in their sickness and holding on to this brutal concept of an ER in the US.
Anyways, the things I found in the seven vital hours of thoughtful food are
1. Pandora can be loaded with Indian songs (old ones too) and I've listened to this like a few ten times submerged in oblivion.
2. Moment before walking off to the nurse counter #1 - I had realized that the biggest advantage I had with the tooth ache was, 'I had full control over my #1 vice'. Heck, I was ready to test it further instead of rotting here.
3. Moment before walking off to the nurse counter #2 - "I'm getting old and I need something to rely on" buzzed from Pandora's rock channel and I decided I'd better start relying on self if things stay this way for a long time.
4. Moment before walking off to the nurse counter #3 - The person second next to me in terms of admit was a sick kid. He waited for the fricking same seven hours for no treatment. And I decided to contribute a push by simply walking off.
10 hrs later - Disappointed of how boring and same my alter ego was to the original me in my dream (nodding in disbelief)
Lunch - For the first time ever I hated the favorite French dip from Arbys coz the tongue has grown in admiration to self cooking (Colacassia fry, Bhindi masala, Palak Paneer, Malai Kofta, Fish Fry and Mango Sambhar in 1 week of home rest).
Now - The chemistry between desi senior lab members and Gori sisters of the lab is so bad that I am tempted to write a 2 page report on the obvious potential blunders of an hypothesis, the qualifier taking grad student has proposed. Hell, with it! I am sending it to the boss with a note that let him do the talking/discussion with the student. Guess, it's really big time to scoot from the current lab.
Labels: Irony of life, So-So mood, Songs, Usual Craziness
Song for the weakened heart
As part of my TA job, I am requested to assist Jim Polly, an 87 year old Donovon Scholar in his queries related to Nanotechnology. With sufficing interactions, I'd gladly accept that this 1953 Chemistry graduate is more interesting than what meets the eye. Yesterday, with the microarray field trip tending to make the class go warm in the seeping winter, I decided to accompany Jim to the HSRB building. As effervescent as a bubble, he walked faster than his heartbeat eyeing the younger crowd of the class fading among the Chem-Phys building. A cheerful chat kept him smiling all the way in his childish slide of a pace. Then all of a sudden, I realized that I was chatting to thin air on my right. Turned and saw Jim standing as a statue two feet behind me with his breath visible through his wide opened mouth. Fear crept into my spine and I had no other option but to run to him. Immediately he gripped my arm, dropped his notes and kept his other hand on his heart. Panic was evident in my mind. I felt the grip tightening in my arm and saw that his legs started to shiver and buckle.
A series of more physical signs proved that he was in serious heart pain. Panic, turned into calmness, and with all the CPR training taken as a mandatory protocol for UKCC and LTCA orgs revised involuntarily in my head. My eyes focused on the Chem-Phys corridor door and with no second thought I said, "Mr. Jim, hold on. I am going to carry you inside a building to get out of the cold." He nodded, and I carefully, let loose of his grip, lifted him and carried him to the nearby building with at most care. Within the next few minutes I had called my flu stricken roommate to get his car for taking Jim home since he insisted in denying any 911 help. About 5 minutes later, with two more unknown students around me expecting his pace maker to kick up, he recovered from his pain, took some deep breaths and said, "Let's continue to the microarray demo"
I was left......... well you know, unbelievably shocked at his attitude. A mixed bag of emotions, mostly swelling towards confusion sweated my face. For the next half hour of demo and the rest of the day, I was left intro-extro-don't-know-what-kinda-spective mindset. And that along with the irony life, is the biggest reason for making me avoid a concluding thought for this post.
Moving from the regularities of the daily heart attacks:
A series of more physical signs proved that he was in serious heart pain. Panic, turned into calmness, and with all the CPR training taken as a mandatory protocol for UKCC and LTCA orgs revised involuntarily in my head. My eyes focused on the Chem-Phys corridor door and with no second thought I said, "Mr. Jim, hold on. I am going to carry you inside a building to get out of the cold." He nodded, and I carefully, let loose of his grip, lifted him and carried him to the nearby building with at most care. Within the next few minutes I had called my flu stricken roommate to get his car for taking Jim home since he insisted in denying any 911 help. About 5 minutes later, with two more unknown students around me expecting his pace maker to kick up, he recovered from his pain, took some deep breaths and said, "Let's continue to the microarray demo"
I was left......... well you know, unbelievably shocked at his attitude. A mixed bag of emotions, mostly swelling towards confusion sweated my face. For the next half hour of demo and the rest of the day, I was left intro-extro-don't-know-what-kinda-spective mindset. And that along with the irony life, is the biggest reason for making me avoid a concluding thought for this post.
Moving from the regularities of the daily heart attacks:
- I've been holding on to a freebie human genome chip from the demo as my research horse shoe.
- I've been withholding so much usual day to day fun that I stopped showing my I-card to the BBSRB buildin scanner and instead jump to scan the wallet in my back pocket of my pant to open the door. There goes the days of scanning your eyes for entrance. Here comes the pretty simple - butt scan... :D
- In an unexplainable irony of chance, my QCM result has gained a free admit for a symposium in NY city. If I can somehow squeeze some academic travel money I can go there for some new ideas. The chance factor is what that entices my memory to stay long.
- This weekend most probably would be my last game of cricket in my life. I keep my fingers crossed that I'd go into a Univ that has a cricket club. Two weeks ago I was honored by MOCL's committee and senior most players from other teams for being a bright captain and player. Instead of me getting senti, I saw the team getting emotional.
- Had our first academic grandson born yesterday. Academic grandson is a funny term.
- And finally here is a song for you for whatever is meant to keep you happy.
Labels: Irony of life, slumber along shadows, So-So mood, Songs
Tuesday
The Statement
Four years ago, a merry conversation on the prospectus of a future initial ended up with a confident challenge. That, I'd shave my head off if I don't become the untreatable kind of a doctor, before I turn 26. This week, out of NO curiosity, but in hope of a change, I 'did' stick to my word of defeat. :D. Therein, started the mental pen of 'baldy logs' which in turn amused many a merry event outta me.
A license bargain wasn't enough to shackle my fourth anniversary celebration of rioting the land of opportunities. A 13 mile biking of the best kind shed a full moon bow at the river of candle memories. The return journey at 4-5 in the morning was drenched with an electrical storm. Concerned, the monkey with the cymbal of the ever so wandering mind worried about the lightning greeting. Nothing had changed and everything might have changed as per the half yearly report.
An ankle twist later, a viru knock later, a math-crack later, a life of million little happy things later, and a feel of an aeon later, the belief on self was shattered. A single statement, so strongly put forth, so emotionally divulged, so abruptly loose-tongued, I understood that I am deeply entangled in the web of my dark ages. What's in it, if a son is not what he is to his father? The last time a similar feeling occured, I tried to mend the error and it ended up as an air punch that still spills my gut. In spite of a million little happy things that happened before, and will happen later AGAIN, somehow, the feeble heart struggles to the fear of finding a way to compensate for all that was truly, wholely, and entirely attempted for good.
"How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand. There is no going back. There are things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep. That have taken hold."
The irony is that of the compulsory next four hour sleep, which will bring in the power of the professional mind to maraude over the personal beliefs of failure.
A license bargain wasn't enough to shackle my fourth anniversary celebration of rioting the land of opportunities. A 13 mile biking of the best kind shed a full moon bow at the river of candle memories. The return journey at 4-5 in the morning was drenched with an electrical storm. Concerned, the monkey with the cymbal of the ever so wandering mind worried about the lightning greeting. Nothing had changed and everything might have changed as per the half yearly report.
An ankle twist later, a viru knock later, a math-crack later, a life of million little happy things later, and a feel of an aeon later, the belief on self was shattered. A single statement, so strongly put forth, so emotionally divulged, so abruptly loose-tongued, I understood that I am deeply entangled in the web of my dark ages. What's in it, if a son is not what he is to his father? The last time a similar feeling occured, I tried to mend the error and it ended up as an air punch that still spills my gut. In spite of a million little happy things that happened before, and will happen later AGAIN, somehow, the feeble heart struggles to the fear of finding a way to compensate for all that was truly, wholely, and entirely attempted for good.
"How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand. There is no going back. There are things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep. That have taken hold."
The irony is that of the compulsory next four hour sleep, which will bring in the power of the professional mind to maraude over the personal beliefs of failure.
Labels: Anniversary, baldy logs, dad-son, slumber along shadows, So-So mood
Sunday
But it's complicated!!!
3 a.m. after Potter magic - A pull over for not using the indicator in the turn only lane (Lame), a step out of the car for the ruckus caused by the 4 PUIs (Passengers under influence), trouble sneaking its way into the surrendered life by an address change, an eventual suspension of license, the happy spirit guy calming the next day drunk junior with the fact that a suspension is worse than paying his two speeding tickets (very interesting that all those who criticize my speed driving have at least two tickets.....).
8 p.m some day - The final leap edging the pro's fist by two fingers on the fissure had its pat-on-the-back, a log sheet of mind over matter and a pile of supportive suggestions dropped over my head by the blond instructor.
3 p.m on the weekend field - "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!!!" and the stolen 'bye' of the fumbled first slip off the very first ball, a six of the very next over, God-speed pushing between the wickets, a few more chaos induced on the minds of the equally talented opponents, an hour's work of seniority gave a final belief that possible impossibles are the true miracles in life.
2 a.m. on the steel roads - a ear to hear, a mouth of memories, a batallion of pollen, a chapter of the book, and a dream of the one eyed mute carved the fear of hope.
1 a.m on the wretched Friday night - 4:19 minutes of Blazin dozen wings, a vision of the candles, pool, and a quizzical game, 4 liquid cocaines, 3 tequilas, 2 three wisemen, 2 draughts of Heineken, a response high of zipped lips and a rapid-chess victory, good food of self-mastered hyderabadi biryani, and a morning of non-dehydrated simplicity undermined my expectations of a second attempt to craze out at high state.
12:30 a.m. on a self-cursing Saturday night - A 8 people tag team push into the melonfest'ed Deja-vu on a self-contemplating walk, a fourth time strip club experience extending a little over two hours due to the first time non-designated driver details, a couple of dancers hitting on the only 'zero-lap-dance in all 4 strip club experiences' from $5 to free, a chivalrous offer of drinks to the semi-nude ladies proving the gravity of mindset, the octaves ogling on the sudden gathering of semi-nudes at the conclusion of melonfest, octave leaders eventual notice on my zero count dances, $75 walleted out of the remaining octaves and there I was picked, carried and dropped for my first ever lap dance - which turned out to be 5 girls at a time for two consecutive songs. An awkward situation of the new touch-phone vibrating as the caucasian girl danced, a later look at the call history showed dad's cell, a friendly chat of the night to dad (alone), and an eventual walk on the steel roads for the lost opportunity from the fidgeted phone early in the day plugged my sleep.
2 p.m today - Ketu Marshall's call asking me to help in his creativity. An one hour hurried up wake up of all coopers, the team's arrival, a look at the $4000 profitable Crown Victoria, an initial volume to count calculation, an experimental trial of 10 guys in the front seats, a sweaty rehersal of 10 more in the back seat, Moti's bf's positive attitude to suffocate for a cause, and a final push of 18 guys of all sizes into the 6 seater crown victoria soon to be added and to be spread via youtube sung the happy moments of a students life.
Minutes before - I, noticing the word A$$hole from the ever good Huggy Bear proving the disappoinment of not making into Div I coz of a partialized result from another games result, half a dozen calls of broken hearts from hard fought team mates, finally settled into my last season of cricket bidding feelings.
Many a thing happened in a short span of a few ten days. While most proved to be interesting, exciting, happening, and changing, a few guiled its way to the mindless original heart. But, in these few days and a month of interesting life, the one feeling that ebbs deep down the vast chasm of solitude is the success to prove that I am failing to achieve goals in all areas of life, at least to myself!!! Guess 'disappoinment' is the guised 'fear' of life.
(Funny, the background soundtrack of Life is beautiful (But it's complicated) from Sister's Keeper keeps coming every now and then after this)
There is a certain sense of blankness filling the void of disappoinment!!! Is it good temporarily or is it bad permanently?
Labels: Contemplation, Optimistic criticism, So-So mood
