Wednesday, March 12, 2008

I swear, it looks better than Baby Bear's bed

I went out in the snow barefooted a little while ago. The back yard looked so soft and inviting, I just gave in to the impulse and went out as I was, PJs, coatless. What nearly held me back was that my hair was out. I don't do a damn thing with my hair down. [I had my hair cut back in December and it's now (at 2 inches below my shoulders) the shortest it's been since I was four years old (a bob), normal length being somewhere between my waist and knees, usually to my hips. Life is so much easier now but I'm used to the constraints of way too much hair. I watched Jodha -Akbar (not too good but Hrithik doesn't massively over-act for once) and afterwards my sister teased me about not so much as washing a plate without putting my hair up first when Aishwarya can have a sword fight with her almost knee length hair twirling about unbound.] Still, I went out and the snow felt so soft and comfy and I didn't even feel cold but now my feet are all tingly and I swear my throat feels sore (psychosomatic, I know). I'm glad I didn't give into the impulse which assailed me once I was inside again to go back out and just have a nice lie-down in the snow. I mostly resisted the urge because I didn't want to get my pyjamas all wet, the hems of my trousers already annoying cold and clammy against my legs.

I'm reading Zadie Smith's "White Teeth" at the moment, (all of Yaser's imaginary internet friends have mentioned it at some point and I was intrigued). I'm about halfway through and had 'that moment'. The a-ha moment. The one where you feel a sense of real connection with one of the characters or you nod your head sagely, having been in much the same place yourself. In case you've read the book, it's the scene where Millat and Irie first arrive at the Chalfen's home and Joyce Chalfen is tearfully examining her delphiniums for signs of thrip, "...a nasty pest that had already butchered her bocconia." It made me shake my head emphatically and say out loud, "God yes!", an exclamation of sympathy for someone who has also had to contend with the fucking nightmare that is thrips. [My experience? First there was thrips, stunting growth, causing a stress response in my poor plants. So we got mites to eat the thrips. The mites come in bran that you sprinkle in your pots. The thing is, the bran facilitates fungus growth so my plants were attacked by fungus. Then we got nematodes to deal with the fungus. God only knows what new infestation would have resulted from the nematodes had I stuck around to find out.] I was amused by my reaction and then disturbed. I wasn't disturbed by my colossal geekiness (which I've long since made my peace with) but that in reading a book about the immigrant experience (and brown Muslims in in the 'west' at that), I felt no real connection before the bit of gardening. I thought about thinking about it (ha!). I mean it must mean something. Something deep. Some socio-cultural thing. I can't help feeling that there are a lot of people who would read this and lift an eyebrow at me. A judgemental eyebrow. But that's okay! I love being judged! Anyway, maybe the disconnect is because a I'm first generation immigrant but have spent most of my life here? Meh.

I swear, my feet are are still tingling and it's been over two hours since I went outside. Maybe I should put on socks?

Oooh, in case anyone else is into PCR, this is odd and amusing. Enjoy!

Also, I put a link in (for White Teeth). Whoo-hoo!! Technological competence!


  • At 8:55 a.m. , Anonymous yaser said...

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  • At 1:19 p.m. , Anonymous Anonymous said...

    This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

  • At 1:24 p.m. , Blogger Dazey said...

    I'll let you know when I finish. And yes, I know that your friends are really; it just feels like you're socializing with Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. It's cool but a bit surreal. Truth is, these days I must be the one who seems like an imaginary friend to you.


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