Hello again
Dear blog, little blog, you have ever been my pensieve. Here I am again, and thanks to Google omnipotence, my 'profile' is linked to my 'account' and the blogger lives on.
Reading my old posts today has given me a lot of irrational joy. Then am I to be an archivist, a record of my times? No matter if I'm the only reader of the archive, or the only viewer of my photography.
The times, they are confusing. Dark and depressing even. The United Kingdom is splintering, probably soon to lose Scotland. Ruled by a divided and divisive coaltion between the far left and the mid right. The further right (UKIP) is gaining power, but thankfully the furthest right is still a funny pub conversation topic (EDL). Or so I think, and now my opinion is supposed to count more because I have Become British.
Still don't know the national anthem here though eep. My anthem will always be Robi Thakur's beautiful poem in "highly sankritised Bengali" according to wikipedia. Did you know there was a hindi version by Abid Ali? I only just found out, thanks Wikipedia.
In addition to stormy politics, modern Britain is also experiencing stormy weather and economics. Parts of the country are being washed away by floods and swathes of society are going into the red, because the people in charge like capitalism too much. I know I do, and I'm not even in charge of much.
My working life has become something of a drudgery; I have worked in 3 global consultancies so far, and I'm not keen to try out a fourth. At least not unless I am offered pots of money. Money has become pretty important to me, ironically, because work has become less important. I want a nice 'lifestyle' and low stress, and that, it seems, needs money.
It probably also needs a certain mindset and a level of emotional health that I am striving to achieve. We shall overcome, one day-ay-ay-ay, as we sang in assembly at school in Delhi.
In any case, today is a Friday and it could really go one of two ways. Very well, if I end up having a good time before going home, or after. A good time would be full of food, light and laughter. A bad time would be going home to a dark, musty apartment, with a head and heart full of hopes for a zinggy friday, to be met by a tired, sleepy and potentially crabby husband, who would not have any particular expectations of our Friday. Both are equally possible at this point.
I digress. In the spirit of archiving then, I am on the 3rd floor of 10 Fleet Place, my company's London office (or maybe one of the London offices). I am not too far from a window today; definitely an improvement over one of the other hot desks which is deep in the floor plan and right behind a gori woman with the most astounding desi accent. She also happens to be a silly bitch, but that's a different story. After about a week of dire grey splashiness, the sun has come out for a tease. A walk at lunchtime around ludgate hill (which is now a hill because it has a railway box under it) yielded some brief moments of warmth. The City location is pretty good for my soul. There were cobbled streets and dickensian looking cafes. Yep. In spite of the ubiquitous City boys and City biy haunts, the City lives. At least on weekdays.
My soul has recently taken a battering from too much commuting and small town exposure you see. I worked full time in Brighton from mid October to mid January. It's too raw to go into details of just how awful the 5am waking, bus/train stressing, and the endless delays have been.
Soulwise though, I have found New York. Another soul city. Maybe the one. London is lovely and everlasting though. I don't love it any less. It's truly mine now. I own a home in it and have found mould on its walls. Can't get much more London than that. But if you're single, smart, like cocktails, rock music and minimum tantabaaji, pliss to move to New York.
See you again soon. Ramble on, dear blog.
Reading my old posts today has given me a lot of irrational joy. Then am I to be an archivist, a record of my times? No matter if I'm the only reader of the archive, or the only viewer of my photography.
The times, they are confusing. Dark and depressing even. The United Kingdom is splintering, probably soon to lose Scotland. Ruled by a divided and divisive coaltion between the far left and the mid right. The further right (UKIP) is gaining power, but thankfully the furthest right is still a funny pub conversation topic (EDL). Or so I think, and now my opinion is supposed to count more because I have Become British.
Still don't know the national anthem here though eep. My anthem will always be Robi Thakur's beautiful poem in "highly sankritised Bengali" according to wikipedia. Did you know there was a hindi version by Abid Ali? I only just found out, thanks Wikipedia.
In addition to stormy politics, modern Britain is also experiencing stormy weather and economics. Parts of the country are being washed away by floods and swathes of society are going into the red, because the people in charge like capitalism too much. I know I do, and I'm not even in charge of much.
My working life has become something of a drudgery; I have worked in 3 global consultancies so far, and I'm not keen to try out a fourth. At least not unless I am offered pots of money. Money has become pretty important to me, ironically, because work has become less important. I want a nice 'lifestyle' and low stress, and that, it seems, needs money.
It probably also needs a certain mindset and a level of emotional health that I am striving to achieve. We shall overcome, one day-ay-ay-ay, as we sang in assembly at school in Delhi.
In any case, today is a Friday and it could really go one of two ways. Very well, if I end up having a good time before going home, or after. A good time would be full of food, light and laughter. A bad time would be going home to a dark, musty apartment, with a head and heart full of hopes for a zinggy friday, to be met by a tired, sleepy and potentially crabby husband, who would not have any particular expectations of our Friday. Both are equally possible at this point.
I digress. In the spirit of archiving then, I am on the 3rd floor of 10 Fleet Place, my company's London office (or maybe one of the London offices). I am not too far from a window today; definitely an improvement over one of the other hot desks which is deep in the floor plan and right behind a gori woman with the most astounding desi accent. She also happens to be a silly bitch, but that's a different story. After about a week of dire grey splashiness, the sun has come out for a tease. A walk at lunchtime around ludgate hill (which is now a hill because it has a railway box under it) yielded some brief moments of warmth. The City location is pretty good for my soul. There were cobbled streets and dickensian looking cafes. Yep. In spite of the ubiquitous City boys and City biy haunts, the City lives. At least on weekdays.
My soul has recently taken a battering from too much commuting and small town exposure you see. I worked full time in Brighton from mid October to mid January. It's too raw to go into details of just how awful the 5am waking, bus/train stressing, and the endless delays have been.
Soulwise though, I have found New York. Another soul city. Maybe the one. London is lovely and everlasting though. I don't love it any less. It's truly mine now. I own a home in it and have found mould on its walls. Can't get much more London than that. But if you're single, smart, like cocktails, rock music and minimum tantabaaji, pliss to move to New York.
See you again soon. Ramble on, dear blog.
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