i have a job. i am relieved. i am reading the hitchhiker's guide through the galaxy (or is it to?)and it's not a bad thing at all. my friend insists i should take the net. there's water all around my para. tomorrow i shall go to office. in my blinkered, unable to see beyond the moment way, i quite like the idea of tomorrow. if it doesent work out right, i shall pray really hard that it does the next day. it usually happens on alternate days. good day-bad day-good day.. so on. i dont want the pattern to change. except for good day-good day-good day.. i think one gets the idea.
somewhere across the horizon, there's really unbelievable amounts of happiness

I am not going for the trek. ki kori. wish somebody were to hold me. You take it in your stride, do you? kintu ektu bhalobashi, tar jonye holeo dishehara lagey. never prepared a reaction for what to do if you don't go. I feel bewildered, somewhat criminal. I just want to sit around my friend. Quietly to let it sink in. Around her there is peace. I find orientation.

And there is living after this too. Does baba's death make me so? So tired and slouchy. I need to trek as often as I can just to keep sane. To remember to be happy. Strong. That life is not something you drag along. Without JU, I need it all the more to remember, find focus, perspective. Kake eta bojhabo? That is my honesty about trekking. I don't love, dig it. I find, fodder, if you like. It shows me the way in a grim way. I am never fit the way I should be, and it's so often such a hard deal, and I don't take it well at all. Yet just being there strains it out of me. So I need to trek. I also dream of making my life with someone who will love to trek, will love the mountains and will always take me with him. May be sometime I will take him too. All this I hope for, dream about. These are my stakes. Without this, I feel lost. I will flounder giving names to things and fix meanings, and that kind of life is so tedious, I shall fall sick if I live it for more than a very short time. I am not doing very well now. I drag myself around the city instead of finding my pace. It used to be this way in school. I had forgotten that I used to get tired just going and coming back from school, so womanly, not being able to do vigorous activities. All that I had almost put out of my mind. I have been at home for a few months. Things are not with a lot of colour. It does not do me good. I have to get out. I will fall sick. You cannot live like this. There is no balm in the form of Jadavput either, that all-effacing place that at the end of the day takes you into its heart no matter how it's been. I must leave, God I must leave.

I wanted to write about a couple of things and one more:

It's spring and it's so beautiful that it's difficult to believe. I wish the world remained like this always. (I am talking English like an imbecile. Orkut has this effect among other things.)

David Gilmour gives me this bitter sweet feeling that kinda feels like a crush. (Of all the things to have crushes about)

I am doing some horrific French translations.
I like being at home during spring very much. On second thoughts, I like being outdoors as much. College specifically. I miss JU very very much.

I still haven't a job. It's kinda beginning to worry me now.

I think I shall fall sick for not having gone for the trek. Beginning winter in Calcutta does NOT do me good.
Stupid stupid life, where things don't always work out the way you want it to.

I shall no longer go to college and my English and general way with the world will get worse and worse for not having what they call intellectual nourishment. I shall become stupid.

Oh and I read this blog about a young about to have child person and I am really grossed. I do not want to marry or to have children in a very long time, thank you. What did you think life was for? To tow the line?
I mean not in the way she put it. Putting names to everything: I am a WIFE. What I am in is MARRIAGE. Why do we make nice things into boring and mind numbing patterns. That's what wrong with society. It's dying trying to understand itself by puttingnames to everything. Taking away the fun of writing your own relationships, your own life.

Didya know Kavya Vishwanathan was Amitav Ghosh's student?
Joy Goswami is on Orkut.

Gilmour is ruthless in a very precise way, and no frills to himself. I find it really difficult to imagine him with Polly Samson. I guess it must be good..