A Private Message...

Friend: Welcome to the quarter life crisis.

Me: Damn, it's so fucked up.

Friend: This makes me immensely happy that u feel the same way and it totally is. But it is true, perspectives change so much these days...that I sometimes don't really know what do I believe in, again the whole discovery of the self...I'm so tired and exhausted...

Me: Yep, it's like you handle one thing, one emotion, one thought, you deal with it and you stow it away and there again, pops another one and you're back to staring at a stranger in the mirror.

Friend: Yea, such is life...I guess...

*****

And so these days I spend most of my time acquainting myself with my new thoughts.

Age, again, yes. A recent shocking one I found is this:

I remember there was a time when I would see nothing wrong with a man who "experimented" a lot. While I did not particularly like such a man, I thought, well, so what? His life. I never judged him. His this aspect never interfered with my dealings with such an individual.


These days, however, I find myself repulsed by the very idea of such a man or woman. For whom women/men are nothing but a notch on their respective bedpost. Who see nothing wrong in jumping from one to another. A new attraction every day.


Earlier, I could separate their such private behaviour, seeing it as just one part, unsavoury, but isolable aspect of their whole personality; even making allowances by saying to each its own. But these days, I find it increasingly difficult to like or trust such people, no matter how they are with others. No matter how truthful and loyal they are toward their loved ones. No matter how they conduct themselves in other areas of their life. I am finding it very difficult to talk to such men and women and not feel disgust.


And I am, not liking such prejudice on my part. I am hating it in fact. 

Cobwebs Of Emotions...

"I will not", is often confused with, "I can not". 

Justice, Now On The Menu...

Who would have thought that something as irrelevant as food can affect a judge's ability to dole out paroles?

Turns out that the odds that prisoners will be successfully paroled start off fairly high at around 65% and quickly plummet to nothing over a few hours. After the judges have returned from their breaks, the odds abruptly climb back up to 65%, before resuming their downward slide. A prisoner’s fate could hinge upon the point in the day when their case is heard.[Source]

There’s an old trope that says justice is “what the judge ate for breakfast”. It was coined by Jerome Frank, himself a judge, and it’s a powerful symbol of the legal realism movement. This school of thought holds that the law, being a human concoction, is subject to the same foibles, biases and imperfections that affect everything humans do. We’d love to believe that a judge’s rulings are solely based on rational decisions and written laws. In reality, they can be influenced by irrelevant things like their moods and, as Frank suggested, their breakfasts.

So much for intelligence!

Pink Balloons...

I am craving a love story :) With loads of warm dreamy innocent toppings :)

Feathers...

There will always be that struggle between what you are and what you could be...and sometimes the price for what you could be is set too high. 

The Clock Keeps Ticking...

Apparently the reason why I am always torn between decisions is because I am middle brain dominant. Atleast now I know! :|

Burn Those Skirts?

Some years back when I was travelling on an international flight, I was harassed by an Arab guy. When I told my friends about the incident, everyone asked me why I didn't complain to the air hostess right that minute when it happened. It might not sound like a very intelligent answer, but I was petrified. I was so shocked I could not open my mouth. I had to cry to get out of the shock once we landed and I knew I was safe in the women's loo. In hindsight yes, I should have complained. Even later when the flight had landed. But you really can't be prepared for such incidents.


Back then when I told this to S, he first got angry at me(for not complaining, no words of sympathy there) and then he asked me what I was wearing(I was wearing a rather boring black jacket over a black spaghetti top with blue jeans and pumps. Nothing too sexy). Funny thing, which I now realise, none of my girl friends asked me what I was wearing. But a guy did ask.


For those who didn't know, there was a slut walk held in Canada on April 3rd. Here's the link.

Demonstrators take part in the "Slutwalk" protest in Toronto, Sunday April 3, 2011. Protesters hit the streets to protest against rape and sexual crimes in response to Toronto Police Const. Michael Sanguinetti, quoted as saying "Women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized."

The recent rapes in Delhi, the slut walk, and a recent conversation with a friend, reminded me of that incident on the plane. One does not necessarily have to be dressed provocatively to be molested. In a sexually charged situation, a man will jump on any woman, even a woman covered from head to toe. Or like A would say, even a man wearing a kilt with a cat. But time and again we keep hearing the same thing: dress properly, dress properly, dress properly. And I am forced to wonder, what does "dress properly" really mean?


I have thought a lot about this topic, dressing, cause it's a topic close to my heart. I love clothes. I love dressing up, always have. And when I have to think 10 times before deciding what to wear, I hate it.


Now I am an advocate of free will. Do what pleases you, as long as your choices do not harm anyone else, in any fashion. So, if some girl out there wants to dress up like a slut, by all means, she has the right to. It's her life after all, and no one should object to her choice.

But here's the thing, what do all those rights and all that freedom really amount to? I have realised, nothing.

As a 21 year old, I would have angrily told you to back off and not interfere in my life had you told me what to wear and not (which is why I never shop with guys). But as a 26 year old, and I hate that it should be this way, I understand that one can not always do as one pleases, even if one's choices do not directly affect another being. Sad huh?

One does not have to be as dramatic as this book suggests, but a woman, like it not, has to come to terms with the fact that:

"[..] a woman’s presence expresses her own attitude to herself, and defines what can and cannot be done to her."


As a woman you have to understand and realise that ultimately you and only you are in the end responsible for everything that happens to you. So if you want to wear that mini skirt, understand the responsibility you owe to yourself and realise the danger it could pose to your life, and then take the decision.


It might seem that by saying women are entirely responsible for their own safety, I am letting men off the hook. Which is not the case at all. No man, even your own husband, has the right to touch you without your explicit permission, no matter if you are sober or drunk, no matter if you are covered in a burqa or naked. But, can we really control anyone's actions and reactions? Nope. So what do we women do? We learn to assess risks and dress accordingly. In short, "dress properly." If you're going to a party with close friends to safe place, you can take that sexy number out of the closet, but you know you can not dress provocatively in a bad neighbourhood.


It is sad that even in civilized societies, supposedly safe environments like your own home, women are not safe. In an ideal world, a question like, "what to wear", would probably never arise. But lately, I have realised, that we might live in a free world but there are still invisible boundaries that we can not cross without getting hurt. So don't burn those skirts, but definitely throw away those quixotic glasses.