Another V-Day Goes By...

…And it’s celebrated, if not quite in B’bay style, then similarly enough: surrounded by good friends, with good conversation and most importantly, good food (sadly, terrible music, though)! The 14th saw my friends here (most of whom are either in long-distance relationships, like Abby, or away from significant others on the day, like NV and RV) get together at first a coffee shop and then a local sheesha joint to band together for a good ol’ gossip session over kebabs, burgers, pasta and sinfully gooey chocolate cake.

We’re hardly the most cerebral or sentimental bunch of 20-somethings, so I wonder if it’s the day itself that got us talking about relationships: past, present and yet-to-be-explored; marriage: NV just got engaged and the rest of us solemnly swore not to think about it for another decade; children: how many we want, whether we’ll adopt, where we’d like to bring them up. So different from the normal who-got-drunk-and-did-what-with-whom-last-weekend boredom. Not that I’m saying this should become a staple fixture in our conversations, but it made for a great change of pace.

Sometimes I look around and wonder if we’re waking up to the world more as we move further into our 20s, or actually becoming more and more self-involved. Is it the place we live in and the people we surround ourselves with that shape us (however temporarily), or is it our efforts to break away from these norms and establish some sense of individuality? Because to be honest, individuality seems to be in short supply around here.. And if we’re just sheep following the rest of the herd, what does that say about us and who we’re becoming? And what if the shepherd’s incompetent or misguided or just leading the herd to slaughter?

Argh, nevermind. I think this is just my brain’s way of telling me that relationships and personality traits are best not contemplated when I’m sleep-and-Coke-deprived.

Whew!

Final check-up with the doctor today, whereupon it was deemed that I've made a full and final, if miraculously quick, recovery. He pronounced himself reasonably baffled by the fact that it's taken my lungs 2 weeks to clear, when it takes healthier people about 6 weeks, apparently. Me? I'm not questioning why or how, I'm just grateful that I can get back to normal life! Bring on the parties! Well, okay, after Ramadan, since all the clubs will open only post-Eid.

Although I have to admit, it's just a little bone-chillingly terrifying to have an esteemed doctor tell you, and I quote: "I was worried about you when we first admitted you...we didn't think you were going to make it. We rated your survival chances quite low, actually." Yeah, this basically echoed what the head nurse told me when I was leaving the hospital (to which my response was stupefied, silent blinking), but still - it isn't less scary the second time around.

Typical me, though. Figures I'd have a near-death experience and be too spaced out to realize it.

But! I can drink Coke again! Not 6 cans a day, as per the norm, but still! Coke!

In the immortal words of Ren and Stimpy: Happy, happy, joy, joy!

Home Again

There's something about being in your 20s that makes you think you're invincible. Long illnesses, long hospital stays, even longer recovery periods? That's something that happens to other people, the poor souls. Not to you. Just three weekends ago you were dancing till 4 a.m. with your friends, what could possibly happen to you now?

Quite a lot, it turns out. So it started out as a simple fever and cough (and tonnes of swine flu jokes, haha) which should have been my usual once-a-year brush with illness that lasted 2 days, as per the norm. But 2 days turned into 4, and the doctors amended their diagnosis to tonsilitis...then after 6 days that changed to the flu...and after 8 days they stood behind their desks with their masks firmly in place (I kid you not), recommending I go to the Ministry of Health and get tested for the H1N1 virus that seems to be rampant over here. So off I trotted (well, not really trotted - after 8 days of 103 degree temperature, I could just about manage a crawl) to the Ministry, where I was perplexingly told that I didn't meet all the criteria for swine flu, but to be on the safe side they were prescribing Tamiflu for 10 days anyway. Oooookay. Still no clue what I had. Then one merciful doctor took pity on me and suggested I go to a private hospital and get a chest x-ray done.

Hallelujah! Result! Severe bilateral pneumonia (in English = one entire lung filled with fluid and the the other one about 30% affected = I'm screwed = that prolonged hospital stay I mentioned above). So, I faced my first ever hospital stay (as I said, I've always been reasonably healthy, and reasonably smug about it too) with mild curiosity (too damn tired to muster up anything else) and a strong determination that I WOULD NOT USE A BEDPAN. Oh, they tried, believe me, they tried. But I stood firm. As long as I could walk (barely) and there was breath in my body (from 70% of one lung) I would go to the bathroom on my own, damnit! I won. But they got their revenge - intraveinous antibiotics and saline drips and my apparently "feeble" veins that required a new hole to be poked in my arms every day - I swear, it's cured me of ever wanting a tattoo. In fact, I think I'll be happy if I never even see another sewing needle again.

All jokes aside, it was scary. But 8 days in there, and I'm back home (and NEVER have I appreciated my own bed and home food so much!) and eternally grateful to all the nurses who checked up on me every hour and came to trade jokes and life stories and show me pictures of their kids back home and complain about various husbands and boyfriends (how? How do I end up being Agony Aunt even in the hospital when I can barely talk?). And my GOD I'm grateful for my folks, who stood by me on the critical bedpan issue and hauled me out of bed to the bathroom, saline drip and all, when I needed to go. Not to mention played endless rounds of cards with me.

On the plus side - the hospital food was surprisingly awesome. And I taught mom and dad how to play poker!

Downside - I have to give up on Coke. Or at least scale back. Sigh.

But I'm home!! And recovering!!

In The Past 24 Hours, I Have...

....Fought with my Risk Manager;

....Skipped the gym (but I went the day before!);

....Eaten the best pizza EVER, loaded with extra cheese and eggplant and zucchini and roasted chicken and sundried tomatoes, sprinkled with chilli flakes and chilli oil, each mouthful the PERFECT bite...mmmm;

....Witnessed an Indian boy at Karaoke Night, thinking he was black and rapping like Pee Wee Herman just learned to talk street. No...just...NO;

....Lost my temper;

....Been confused;

....Been comforted;

....Had the most inane, insane, evil, chaotic, flat-out-crazy-fun conversations imaginable;

....Received impromptu sex-ed lectures from at least 4 different friends (for no reason whatsoever);

....Hung out with NV and RV, whom I will miss HORRIBLY while they are away;

....Crept into not one, but two shady, seedy, utterly disreputable dance-bar type places and been both scandalized and saddened at human nature;

....Realized that I'm most definitely not cut out for that much-talked-about planned visit to a Vegas strip club;

....Stumbled into bed and stumbled out again after what felt like only 10 seconds but was actually 4 hours (I think I might be getting old. 4 hours of sleep used to tide me over for a WEEK when I was in college);

....Been an unreasonable grouch all day because the restaurant screwed up my order for 6 Cokes by bringing me..erm..NOTHING, so I've had NO sugar and NO caffeine and NO sweet Coke-y goodness and I swear I'm dying....

....Goofed off at work by writing this blog;

....Fought with my Risk Manager.

Don't you love it when life comes full circle?

Staying Out Till 3 a.m....

...when you have to be in at work at 7:45 is NOT a good idea. ARGH with the headache and the bleary eyes and the NO COKE IN MY BAG. Double argh.

I don't even have the energy for exclamation points.

More complaining later.

Murphy's Law

Why is it that…


…I'll be dying of boredom the entire week, when I'm raring to go…and a pile of work drops into my lap an hour before the weekend begins.

…I make the best friends in the world…2 weeks before either they or I leave the city/country/continent.

…The guy I crushed on for a year realises he feels the same way…7 years after I've gotten over him.

…I can dance like seduction personified when no one's watching, but the moment even one eye swivels towards me - I spill my drink, step on someone's toe, trip over another someone's leg and end up with a bruise the size and shape of Texas on my butt.

…For lack of anything better to do, and tired of channel surfing, I'll watch some crappy movie through till the end. Only to flip the channel and realise I missed my favourite Buffy episode on rerun (mostly anything where Spike is shirtless. Or says "bloody hell". Or blinks.)

…I can down a six-pack of Coke and function just fine…but the guy I'm crushing on steps into the room and I let out the most almighty, unladylike, Homer-Simpson-esque, ear-shattering burp.

…My period may be delayed for 6 months sometimes, but it'll come without fail the day I'm wearing white capris. With white lace underwear underneath that. My uterus hates me.

Alphabetical list of reasons why I am a total spaz:

1. A cute guy smiled at me in the crappy office cafeteria. ::Snap:: went the plastic spoon and ::whumpf:: went the chicken manchurian and hakka noodles all over my new white shirt. The front of which is now neon orange.
2. Boobs…or rather, my inability to keep them in place (although, thankfully, they are always covered. Pam Anderson I am not). Jogging bras don't help when I'm exercising, and I've given myself AND the 18-year-old on the treadmill next to me a black eye on more than one occasion.
3. Coke…cola that is, and my…shall we say…affinity for it? Affection? My friends would say it was more of an obsession. But I'm getting better! I only drink 2 cans a day now (5 on weekends), and my memorabilia is down to 1 Coke-can replica glass pencil holder, a t-shirt, and a porcelain thimble with the Coke logo. I'm practically normal!
4. Dopey eyes that have caused more than one boss to look at me suspiciously and say "We conduct random drug tests here, you know…"
5. Epiphanies in the middle of poker sessions. When I'm not even drunk. So I will then expostulate about random insanity when, y'know, all anyone wants is for me to shut up and put in my 2 rials.
6. Food…any and all food…but especially Bombay food in Bombay restaurants surrounded by Bombay people…
7. Girls…well, the lack thereof in my life at the moment. Not that I swing that way (most of the time). But female company would be nice. A girl can only take so much of being around a bunch of guys with their …hysterically rude jokes…lack of bitchiness…amazingly yummy cologne…maybe I'll retract my complaint…
8. Hee-haw…my friends' description of the way I laugh. Which, I suppose, is better than being told to go swing from a tree with the other howling monkeys (by the guy I'm crushing on, no less)
9. Idiocy…especially when it comes to men. But I've learnt my lesson…never date anyone who is a combination of the following: shorter than me, thinner than me, with a bigger ego than me (well, bigger than the 7 continents combined).
10. Juvenile pursuits. But I can't help it if I'm a 26-year-old who still occassionally likes to re-read her Sweet Valleys (and Archies) and watch Jonny Quest (and Tom & Jerry) and eat orange ice-lollies (which are sooo passe, Galaxy Chocobar premiums are THE sophisticated ice-cream to suck on, dontcha know dahling?)
11. Klutziness….refer to points no. 1 and 15
12. Lameness in general, which would be why I am making this list…
13. Men and my complete inability to understand them, even when ALL the close friends I've ever had have been guys. But no, they'll do something asinine, as they are wont to do, and everytime it'll shock me!
14. Name…my name, I mean. It miiiight have been the height of cool when I was named more than a quarter of a century ago (although I doubt it) but now you throw a rock and you'll hit 20 chicks with my name. Don't even get me started on my nicknames. They bring to mind a fat boy, an African warrior tribe, a Baywatch alumnus and a teddy bear. What any of them have to do with each other, I'll never know.
15. Over-the-top hand gestures when I speak. You'd think it would be impossible to be narrating a story and knock over an entire refridgerator. You'd be wrong.
16. Poker…and my utter inability to play it safe. So in the past couple of weeks I've won big. But will I take my money and spend it on shoes like a sensible woman? Of course not. Sensible? What a strange word in an alien language…
17. Queens…drag queens to be more specific. Anybody else but me out there who finds them strangely…interesting? Not like that, but just…I wonder what they look like in the morning, and are they happier not being actual women, thereby missing out on PMS and horrific cramps?
18. Ringtones…I HATE cellphone ringtones…those things should be banned! They're SO annoying (yes, even the one that plays "Sweet Child O' Mine"). What, I ask you, is wrong with putting it on vibrate mode??
19. Spike. The love of my life. You know, bleached-blonde-six-pack-sporting-"bloody hell"-saying-leather-wearing vampire from Buffy the Vampire Slayer? I heart him.
20. Telling myself that I CAN lose 5 kgs. When, on a zillion-calorie-a-day diet, it clearly ain't gonna happen.
21. Understanding the basic mechanics of anything to do with technology. Yeah, I don't possess that.
22. Vampires. Love 'em. Not that I'm a wanna-be-Goth-with-far-too-much-eyeliner or anything that random, but if it's got anything to do with Buffy, or Angel, or Anne Rice, or Laurell Hamilton, or MaryJanice Davidson, or Charlaine Harris, or God help me, even Stephenie Meyer...I've been there done that and bought the t-shirt :)
23. Wanting to be a librarian…but liking money and expensive shoes faaar too much to actually go ahead with it.
24. X…man, this is a tough one. X-treme fear that all my lovely guy friends will end up with horrible girlfriends and wives who will make it their life's ambition to keep me away from my friends (as I already see happening with some of the married ones)? No? Too paranoid? Damn, I shoulda put that under 'P'.
25. Yennada? Yepdi irka ma? Spell 'moon' with a yem-yo-yet-another-yo-and-a-yem-after that. I may be half-South-Indian, but man it's SUCH fun to rip apart a southie accent!
26. Z..z…z…uh, I dunno….'zaps' is 'spaz' backwards. That should tell you loads about my state of mind!