New Year, Probably Not a New Me

I started this blog in 2014. Wrote, like, 5 or 6 posts about spaghetti and emotions. 

And now it’s 2017, and I haven’t posted anything in three years. Whatever. It’s a new year. 

Classes start up tomorrow but my mental capacity for dealing with classes won’t start up for a few weeks. Meanwhile, I’ll just do this. It’s comforting. Maybe I’m using some brain power right now but mostly I’m just sitting in my dorm typing random thoughts while my roommate puts important dates and stuff in her planner. 

I’m prepared most of the time for things, I promise. 

Is it okay to eat dinner in your room the first night back on campus? Like socially acceptable? Am I supposed to go find a friend and start using my meal plan immediately? No, hey, I’m genuinely asking. Wondering if I’m being antisocial. 

I don’t think I talk like this in real life. I’m trying to be cool.  

Thinking.

I think that I think too much.

*sigh*

Do you see my problem?

It’s obsessive. I over analyze everything. I play moments over and over in my head until it drives me crazy. I create all these random scenarios in my mind that have amounted to an extreme daydreaming problem.

It’s like I have a whole world bustling inside my head, running around and competing for my attention.

Sometimes it’s just exhausting to be the kind of person who thinks too much, or too hard.

It’s really the overanalyzing part that’s getting out of hand.

I have social anxiety issues. As a result, I am very aware of every move I make, every word I say, and every thing I do.

If the social interaction goes well, my brain replays the moment so that I can be pleased with myself, or something like that.

If it doesn’t go how I wanted, then my brain starts to go nuts.

“Why did I say that, when I could have said this? Why didn’t I smile more? Why do Ihave to be like this?

I remember reading somewhere that people who listen to their hearts end up happier than people who listen to their heads.

Follow your heart, and all of that.

If only my damn head would just relax for, like, two seconds.

I can’t think.

It’s really hard for me to differentiate between what my heart wants and what my head thinks is best for me because my brain is so overpowering.

It would be nice to have a break from my head. You know, just turn that Ravenclaw brain off.

(Yes, I am a Ravenclaw. Caw caw.

Just a side thought: Does it bother anybody else that the Ravenclaw mascot is an eagle? Shouldn’t it be, I don’t know, a raven?)

No. Stop.

If I go off on a Harry Potter related tangent, you will never ever get me back on track.

All I’m saying is, I wish someone could teach me how to switch my brain off everywhere once in a while so I could enjoy. Like, really fully enjoy.

Emotions.

Sometimes I think it’s really convenient that people are able to hide their emotions.

Yes, I do realize that some people suck at hiding their emotions.

And I also realize that some are intuitive as hell. It’s freaky. You can’t hide anything from those people.

But you can still try, right?

Imagine if our emotions were written across our forehead, completely out in the open, completely unable to be hidden. Like a fricking cartoon.

You know, like if smoke came out of your ears every time you got angry. Or if your heart began thumping loud enough for everyone to hear just as your crush walked by. Or if your jaw literally dropped to the floor.

That’s all well and cartoony. But what if it was something more, you know, human? Imagine if your hair changed color to match how you’re feeling on the inside. Like a murky shade of grey for when you’re feeling down. Or a bright, buttercup yellow for when you feel really really happy.

This could have potential perks. Take St. Patrick’s Day for instance. All you’d have to do is think of or do something to make yourself feel really jealous, and boom! Green hair. Instant Irish pride. No dye necessary. Could be kinda cool.

But mainly I think it would suck. I don’t think anyone likes telling the whole world how they really feel. It requires a certain bravery. And it would be much, much worse if you had no control over it.

Buuuuuut, how awesome would it be to be a Muslim hijabi?

It might suck, but not for a hijabi.

Seriously, how much power would a woman wearing a headscarf have in a world where hair changes color based on emotion?

Couldn’t read her like a book. (Unless you’re a member of the intuitive bunch. Then you’d have a shot.)

And don’t tell me that headscarves wouldn’t become the latest fashion. Hat sales would probably skyrocket too.

And everyone would be trying to figure out what hair color someone was hiding under their hat. Or why that girl who always has her hair down is suddenly sporting a headscarf.

“Well, I had a fight with my sister last night, and red is just not my color.”

That Girl.

Some days I wanna be the kind of girl that rolls out of bed and wears leather jackets and red lipstick and totally rocks it and doesn’t worry.

And then other times I wanna wear bright dresses and curl my hair and be sweet and smile constantly and actually make an effort.

And then sometimes I wanna be the girl who wears oversized sweaters and has her nose in a book and hair in a bun and hot chocolate in her hand and is all shy and smart and bookwormish and intellectual.

Part of me also wants to be this total badass that kickboxes or does archery and has this ‘I do what I want’ attitude and doesn’t care.

Or be the kind of girl that wears floppy hats and tall boots and writes short stories and hums to herself and watches the stars and is just wonderfully eccentric.

But mainly I just eat ice cream and watch Netflix curled up in a lump on my bed in my pajamas.

So I guess I’m that girl too.

Rain.

I remember once when I was little and my aunt took me and my sister out to dance in the rain.

It was pouring down so hard I could barely even keep my eyes open. We were trying to sing too but ended up having to scream to hear each other over the storm.

It was amazing.

Even though I never meant to, I didn’t dance in the rain after that. It wasn’t a conscious decision that I made…it just never really occurred again.

But a few days ago it was raining. Not the scary kind, though.

It was the kind of the rain where the sky is white and it’s light out, but it’s still pouring down like crazy.

The good kind of rain. The beautiful kind. The perfect rainbow kind.

And I wanted nothing more than to go splash in puddles and get soaked to my skin. I wanted to dance and sing. I wanted to revel in it.

I couldn’t go, because my parents were worried I would get a cold.

(To be fair, I do have awful immunity.)

But I think it would be worth it either way.

A Thought.

“Do not covet your ideas. Give away everything you know and more will come back to you.” – Unknown

Wisdom from a Kids Show

“To live life, you need problems…If you get everything you want the minute you want it, what’s the point of living?” – Adventure Time

(But seriously. Is this really a kids show?)

A Joke to Brighten Your Day

What’s the difference between outlaws and in-laws?

…

Outlaws are wanted.

*giggles*

Glasses.

I got my glasses in 7th grade, and to be honest I was really excited to wear them. I never really understood the whole ‘glasses-are-nerdy’ thing. I just always thought that glasses looked intelligent and charming.

And intelligence is hot.

Really though.

(Btw, doesn’t the word ‘intelligence’ look weird if you stare at it for a long time? I just sat here for a few minutes questioning its existence.)

I’m nearsighted, but funnily enough I always got assigned a seat in the back of the classroom. So I started wearing my glasses all the time.

This is when “chishmish” came to be.

My mom and my uncle started calling me “chashmish”.

But it always came out sounding like “chishmish”.

Chashmish is Hindi slang for someone who wears glasses. There was a famous Bollywood movie called “Kal Ho Na Ho” (Translation: Tomorrow May or May Not Be) where the main character Naina wears glasses.

Naina, in Hindi, means eyes. Quite poetic.

Her neighbor, the main male character, calls her chashmish, as sort of a ‘four-eyes’ kind of insult.

(Although, does anybody really say four-eyes anymore?)

From then on, whenever I wore glasses, I got called chashmish because apparently I look like Naina.

Not that I mind, she’s hot. And she gets the guy.

Movies.

I went to a movie with my parents yesterday.

This is a big deal, because I never get to do anything just the three of us. My brother or my sister (or both) always come.

But I got to be an only child for a few hours. Which, as a middle child, will never happen again.

We went and saw a Bollywood movie. For those of you who don’t know, Bollywood is the name of India’s movie industry. Fun fact, it’s the largest movie industry in the world.

And it’s fricking awesome.

Seriously Bollywood > Hollywood any day.

Also, I totally recommend the movie, 2 States. If you watch it in a movie theater, you’ll get subtitles. Kudos to you if you can find a quality online version with subtitles.

Anyway, we were pulling into our street when my mom saw an older man collapse on the sidewalk.

Here’s the thing: he fell behind a bush in the grass. It was dark, late at night. There was no one out walking about.

Just saying…it’s a really good thing my mom saw him.

And we found out later that the man was 80 and lived all by himself. His nearest relative was about 8-10 hours away.

(He is alright, by the way.)

I just find it amazing how somehow you end up in the right place at the right time.