I am a total foodie. And till about three months back, I didn’t know. The fact is, my entire family is composed of foodies, and, since I was always on the less extreme foodie-ness part of the family, I always thought I was on par with the world in general. As it turns out, not.
Three months ago I came to stay in this city 760 km away from home. As it goes, I settled down pretty quickly; home sickness wasn’t that bothering. I liked the freedom, I liked what I was doing, and I was fairly good at it. Fast forward a month, and small bumps started appearing.
I live in a joint family, and my aunt is an AH-MAZING cook. Seriously. Like, she could win a contest. So, that’s why, I was used to a wide variety of absolutely delicious foods. What’s more, I am fond of tinkering in the kitchen myself. So the ubiquitoes-ness of potatoes started to disturb me. As did the utter lack of half-decent restaraunts. I mean, hey, I’m not asking for Crepes Suzette here. Dominoes and Subway should not be my only culinary choices.
Then I realised, my foodie-ness is not just related to eating or drinking. The lack of TV here (yes, it’s true, no TV here at all) hadn’t bothered me before, but now it started too. Not because of Gossip Girl or How I Met Your Mother, (I have never watched either of them, though I hear they’re good) but because MasterChef Australia started their new season. And I had no access to a damn TV. And I miss Nigella (oh, Nigella!). And the Jamie Oliver DVDs I watched whenever I wanted to cook something vegetable-y.
So there you are, I have summarily confessed that I am a food geek. And I will confess further that I have discovered myself to be foodie comfort seeker too. So there go my hopes of getting a Gisele-like bod by next year. Sigh.
I posted another cartoon a few days ago about facebook poking, and then Garfield showed me again how ubiquitous technology is. When your cat starts sending you ‘meow’ texts, it’s time for a rain check.
So today I had to go to the bank to get some credit card paperwork done. I had to get some documents photocopied and take some passport sized photos with me. Since I was heading out anyway, I decided to do some other chores I had to do too.
Now, I have a history of forgetting half the things I’m supposed to do, so I made sure I had my to-do list with me. Feeling all adult-y, (Hey, I’m getting my first credit card this month) I stepped out, before realising half-way that I had forgotten to take my passport sized photos. I rushed back hot and sweaty, and I was unlocking my front door when I realised that I keep a few passport sized pics in my wallet for precisely these kind of situations. -_-
So, basically, I wasted my time even though I had a backup plan, because not only did I forget to take the pics, thus making a backup plan necessary, I even forgot I had a backup plan!
This is probably the most humiliating thing that has happened to me. I feel like a border-geriatric. Sigh.
Only pizza can bring me solace now. And Ryan Gosling.
I mentioned some of my music favourites in my last blog post. They are unconventional, to say the least. Especially for a person who turned 18 just last month. I don’t mean to say that my likes and dislikes are totally different from people my age, (Harry Potter, duh), but especially when it comes to three things, books, movies and music, I feel like I belong on a different planet. In a different solar system.
I grew up watching a lot of movies, but they never were the ones my peers watched. (After the age of five, that is.) I have seen lots of real classics like Gone with the Wind, Casablanca, To Kill A Mockingbird, Mackenna’s Gold, Singing In The Rain, etc etc. And then different films like Whale Rider (it’s one of my favourites), Mr. Holland’s Opus, Something the Lord Made, Mona Lisa Smile, (I could go on and on but you get the point.) And I loved them. But, as you can imagine, I got a LOT of stares when I started talking about them. So I didn’t.
And then take books. Apart from the fact that just the level of my obsession with reading is abnormal, the books I read are very, very different from the ones my friends do. Sure, I adore romances, but the ones that were published almost 200 years ago. I am reading a Jane Austen novel at any given point of time, and then my other books just come and go in between. The first thing I did when I (finally!) got my Kindle account was scourge through their free popular classics and download anything and everything that I hadn’t read before. I generally tend to read exactly those books which are cursed by millions of students worldwide when they are included in the syllabus. And it does not make me popular.
Which is sad, really. It’s not like I have a problem with what’s going on today. It’s just that I have taken into consideration the things I like and the things I don’t, and the things I like just happened to be created in earlier times. Simple as that.
So, this is the deal. As long as you stand by what you like, and if you like something out of the ordinary course of things, you will be a square peg in a round hole. But you will be you.
P.S. Not to emphasize the whole different thing, but I also read the original, non-Disneyfied version of the Grimm’s fairytales about two months ago. And The Little Red Riding Hood is as clearly a story of assault and murder as a news report can be.
P.P.S. In the original version, no hunter comes to save the little girl, and the ‘wolf’ ‘eats her up’. Woah, what a thing to tell your 3 year old at bedtime.
Whenever my mom makes biryani, she always uses raw papaya to make the chicken go all soft and limp so that it cooks properly. (On a side note, it works like a charm, never buy the stuff they sell at the shops again.)
Yes, I am saying that music is like this. Except, you know, for your mind.
I always notice that whenever I’m overstressed or nervous, even the most ephemeral non-cacophonic sound can make me relax a bit. I always visualise my then state as music tenderizing my mind.
I tend to become a little unemotional and robotic when I’m stressed, (do I have company here, or am I really as freaky as I suspected I was?) so music makes me breathe a little bit more.
I love, love, love Yanni (I don’t care if that’s uncool or wierd, I just can’t compromise or feel ashamed about the music I love, even if people think I’m certifiably insane.) and I love, love, love Richard Clayderman. I can listen to hours and hours of Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Bach, Chopin and Mozart. That said, I also like pop, rock and rap. (Only some, though.) So, basically, this makes me really listen to music too much.
How can anybody listen to music too much, you ask. You can if you’re me. Once I go into put-my-entire-collection-into-shuffle mode, I simply stop getting work done. It’s like my mind becomes too soft and impressionable and mellow and I get caught up in each of the brilliant emotions that the composer and the songwriter wanted to create in you. And I tell you, when your ipod plays I Kissed A Girl immediately after a Hans Zimmer piece, your emotional change in a few seconds is drastic. Which may not be good for you. Back away from the ipod, lady, and go and get some productive work done, instead of crying along with Rufus Wainwright.
So, this brings me back to my original analogy. Sure, music softens your mind, but too much of it will cook you through before you get the chance to imbibe any flavours.