Friday, 6 January 2012

Pocket Philosophy

One of the things dad used to say was, you got to have your life philosophy all clear. I mean, I felt like he was semi-accusing me of not being philosophical enough about things. But I don't think it was that. He was just trying to pass on some of his ideas to me. I guess. Even though I have followed in his footsteps career-wise and all, when I look back now, I am a very different person than him. The way I lead my life today, the way I think about things tells me I am much more like my mom than dad. Although there are giant differences between her and me, at least now (some of those, I hope to retain, some of those, such as my messiness, I hope to overcome soon).

At the core of me, I think is hard work. One of the things I do that makes me most irritated with myself, is procrastinate. Of course I have about zero tolerance when others procrastinate on stuff. This is how this one operates:

Mum: Hey can you bring the clothes in please?
Me: Sure, in just a second.

Dum-De-Daa. About 4 seconds pass. Mum brings the clothes in. 4 fucking seconds mom. You couldn't wait that long? Now I feel super bad that I made an aging woman do my work for me. Not that I am a spring chicken myself.

However, I am almost exactly like her, in this matter. I tell the homies about the clothes. They procrastinate for 4 days, I kid you not. They are just terrible like that. I am not a patch on them. Now this is where I differ from mum a bit. I swear like mad in my head when this happens. Sonofabitch. FuckingAhole. Obnoxiousprick. Mum would be appalled to hear me swear (she is still getting over my tendency to casually to sip a beer sitting in front of her. As we know, swearing, drinking, eating non-veg food, going to late night parties, sex, smoking, cleavage, writing on your blog about such things, are all primo evil especially if you are a woman. Guilty except for couple things in that list, of course). Anyway even though I swear like a sailor, at the end of it, I don't mind the work. I am just pissed that they didn't listen to me. I am on my feet a lot from the get go and I don't mind that. I like to work hard. I don't like to sit around and eat. It makes me feel fat to do that.

Around that core then, is care. So, lets say you are my friend. Or husband. Or child. I will gladly ignore you and go about running around the whole day. But then tell me you are feeling bad about something. Or something goes wrong. Shit like that. I stop swearing immediately and go all gooey inside. And I kid you not. I feel a tumble inside. And I will be all over you about that. I don't think my child appreciates this too much currently because she brings me many irrelevant problems while not having: brushedherteeth; packedherbag; finishedherdinner etc. like I asked her to 30 mins ago, so I am not feeling too patient or gooey about her. But when she grows up a bit and stuff like that are not really my problem any more, she will hopefully realise that I do care deep. I can see that she does too. Like when I occasionally am forced to lie down because of that headache that blindsides me, she does come all melty over me. Which is nice, though not very nice because I sort of just want to sleep.

Then there is the other thing that I am. I am a parallel processor. I imagine, if I was fishing, I would have many rods in the water and a net or two to boot as well. It would spoil my focus, I suppose, and I might miss a big'un on line 2, but it makes me happy. It makes me feel productive. And I do think it helps me make more friends. Of different types. Like I have my running buddies and my prof buddies and my mommy friends and the NGO types and so on. Its nice to have that. In recent times though, I have stopped being a good conversationalist, so I am no use in parties, really. I blame it on two things: Not being interested in current events of the world; & running. How so the second one? Well, long massively long runs happen weekend mornings. Parties? Weekend evenings. I am either super tired from massively long run (body not yet used to the additional mileage), or am super pissed thinking about how the upcoming massively long run is getting more and more screwed as the night wears on. But I sort of swore to myself that I wouldn't be a social recluse or stop drinking because of the running [ludwig - remember that? wanting to run WHILE not fore-going our drinking habit?]. So I go. But I lose my energy quickly, and my husband being the person in charge of closing out any party we happen to even casually attend [Kenny we will come back in an hour or two, don't worry. Nothing for me to do there... Yeah Right. I know him for 20 years now. Hour or two? Sure]... I am one pissed daughterofabitch by the end of it all. Well, anyhow, I try to do a lot of contradictory sounding things all at once and that seems to keep me broadly happy in the grand schemelessness of my life. So, there is that.

What was my dad's whole life philosophy, I wonder? What were his pillars? Benign Neglect I think featured there (as a life philosophy & also a parenting one). Perfectionism for sure was there. Eat sweet things and be happy must have been the third one. The man sure loved sweet things! Now none of these three things feature on my list. So, sorry dad! Mum has hard work, worry, and cleanliness above all in her book. At least hard work (with a procrastination clause for myself and a tendency to swear) features in my list. So, sorry dad!

1 comment:

dipali said...

You make me think!!!!!!
My life's philosphy is here somewhere, but not concretely verbalised. We share some stuff- life the procrastinator/procrastinatee divide:)