To be or not to be...... proper

 

I occasionally come across this statement on social media sites that goes something like this:

 I have reached that level of awesomeness where I don't give a damn about anything anymore.

I think I have become the epitome of that statement.

A few days ago, I went to the dermatologist to have a sebaceous cyst removed. Since the little ball of fat was inconveniently located in the middle of my chest, all the male doctors turned away their heads, while a junior female one examined the cyst by looking at it through a magnifying glass the size of a dessert plate. She verbally communicated the size, shape and other particulars of the lump to her male seniors, who then proceeded to issue instructions on how to cut, scoop out the fat and then stitch up the wound. The seniors then left me in the room with a bunch of girls who looked like they were barely out of med school. Now, I confess, for a case such as this, I would normally prefer a female doctor to a male one, but since all the female doctors present were those who had to be orally instructed on how to perform the incision, I was beginning to have second thoughts about it.  

 “You know, I am nearly fifty-one years old. I really don’t see genders anymore.” I said to one of the young females, trying to pass a hint that I would be ok if one of the male doctors came back inside.

(What I was originally going to say was that I have always considered doctors to be genderless, but thinking that my statement might be misinterpreted, I changed it to the one mentioned above). 

“It’s better this way.”  Said the female doctor shooing out the male assistant who was preparing the ointments and bandages for the procedure.

To be fair to her, I suppose she was doing it all to save me from an embarrassing situation. Little did she know, there is not much that can embarrass a woman who has undergone a C section surgery, while fully conscious.  When compared with, lying totally exposed waist under in clear view of both male and female OT staff, the  uncovering of a fraction of my boob to a male doctor doesn’t even make it past the preliminary rounds.

The problem wasn’t with the girls who were just being careful. The problem was me. I am the anomaly. Even in my youth, I always had an abundance of “who cares anyway” attitude but now that I have reached a certain age, the attitude has reached its peak. I think ending up as being the oldest person in the room makes a big difference. You can’t be made to feel awkward by people who are younger than you.

Speaking of awkward situations, I am reminded of an incident from a few years ago that took place in the shower room of a club that I used to frequent. For my post swim shower, I always preferred the last room, simply because it was the most spacious one. It did have one drawback. The latch on the door was faulty and didn’t lock the door as securely as a door ought to be locked. But that had never given me a problem, since the latch did work enough to let anyone turning the handle know that the room was occupied. One day as I was taking a shower, I heard two preteen girls approach the other side of my door. I had seen the girls frolicking about in the pool a few minutes earlier. The two girls came giggling down the corridor, the way kids do, till they reached my door and tried to open it. The door offered resistance; the girls pushed harder. The door, unable to take the pressure, gave in and the two girls tumbled into the shower room where yours truly stood in a magnificent soap studded glory.

The girls shrieked in fright and backed out, apologizing profusely. When I went to relock the door, I could hear mortification mingled with horror in the wet patter of their footsteps as they were running away.

There are times when life makes us encounter situations that we are totally unprepared for. This was probably one of those occasions. I doubt if anything could have prepared those poor girls to open a harmless door and come face to face with an overweight Aunty, naked as the day she was born, vigorously shampooing her hair. That is not a sight either of those girls were likely to unsee for a very long time. In fact, I fear they may even be scarred for life.

Now the question is, why after all these years am I reminded of this particular memory. Well, the visit to the dermatology department, along with a somewhat similar incident I recently read in Twinkle Khanna’s Mrs. Funnybones brought it to mind. According to Ms. Khanna, she and her young Sikh cousin were taking a shower after their swim when the cousin slipped and slid under the gap of the cubicle. He emerged three cubicles away next to a Parsi lady who was in a similar state of… ahem……. undress as myself. But unlike me, the Parsi lady failed to see the humor in the situation and created such a hullabaloo that young Khanna and the little sardar jee were banned from the club for a month.

In the end, all I have to say is that eventually everyone grows old.

But not everyone can be Awesome 😉

 

Justice prevailed, even if only in a dream

Last night I dreamt of harboring two women in my car who were fleeing from thugs about to throw acid on them. I then hit and ran over both the goons with my car.

Probably killed or maimed them for life.

.

.

Felt bloody good to wake up this morning.

Living in Zombie Land

 Depressed. Depressed. 

 DEPRESSED ....

My own personal words of wisdom

When you are struggling to make it from one weekend to the next, its time to quit or switch your job. 

And when you start to lose track of what day of the week it is, it is time to get one :-)

"This is what dreams are made of "

 

 A while ago I started following Jim Kwik's program to increase brain power, the one that came free with the purchase of the book “Limitless”. Why? Because I sorely need to improve my brain power. My ability to recall and recollect has become highly decrypt.

People usually envy others for their looks, riches, fortunes etc. I envy those who have strong memories.  A weak memory is by no means my only lost treasure. There are other functions of my brain not working at optimum level and this renders me incapable of doing a lot of stuff which I would love to do otherwise. For example, I love to write, but where other people have periods of inactivity or “writer’s block” in the middle of their creative streaks, I have occasional creative streaks spread sporadically in the middle of a perpetual writer’s block (especially when I am writing Urdu). The fact the I cannot remember most of the stuff only adds to the discomfort and mental agony. 

One of the techniques that Jim advocates for improving brain power is to try and remember one’s dreams. The idea behind it is that some of the most interesting  and intriguing solutions to problems have been revealed to people in their dreams.

 Agreed. 

Occasionally, when I am stuck somewhere in the middle of my writing, a connecting line or a crucial missing paragraph comes to me in my dream proving that the conscious and the subconscious minds are linked, which of course they are.

But I have another problem.

I dream a lot, sometimes several times in the same night but I usually don’t remember my dreams once I wake up.  

According to Jim, the brain has four states. Alpha, Beta, Theta and Delta 

Delta Stage:  Deep sleep phase, where we dream.

Theta Stage:  Relaxed stage above Delta, probably when we are just waking up, half asleep, half-awake stage. That is where we can recall the dreams from Delta stage.

Alpha Stage: Meditation stage, great stage to learn.

Beta Stage: Totally awake stage.

The dreams are most recollect-able in Theta stage. The more one wakes up, the more one is likely to forget what one has dreamt about. The recollection part might be different for different people but that is how it works for me.

Following Jim's advice about capturing my dreams, I got myself a diary, slept with it right next to my bed so that I could pen my dreams down as soon as I wake up but by the time I did wake up enough to be able to write anything, the dream was long gone. Then someone in the “Limitless” Facebook group suggested keeping a recording device close by (like a voice recorder on phone) and to record the dream without opening my eyes and fully waking up. (so much trouble to get hold of a fast slipping dream). 

That method was somewhat successful and I did end up capturing the essence of one whole dream in my diary. That is when I asked myself if I really wanted to record my dreams?

My dreams are mostly complex, weird and often depressing. I seldom have dreams that leave me refreshed or happy. On the plus side I know that I am dreaming. Even when I am having a particularly disturbing dream, I console myself by saying, sometimes in the middle of the dream itself, that it is only a dream and I would forget it all once I wake up.  And that is the best part about it, that I do forget it all once I wake up.

So then why would I want to recall and remember something which clearly disturbs me?

This led me to reflect upon another aspect of my personality. I have a “happy go lucky” kind of nature. I tend to suppress the negatively and troubling aspects of life by not focusing on them and not thinking about them. My daughter has a term for this. She calls it "Repression " 

I repress my negative emotions. They get inserted in some crevice of my mind. But once I fall asleep and my conscious self is taken over by my subconscious one, all those repressed emotions, frustrations and depressions that I do not let my self experience while awake, get liberated and reveal themselves to me through my dreams. This is my take on it, which could be totally and completely wrong.  Correct or incorrect that is the conclusion that I have reached after dwelling upon the matter. 

I don’t know if it is even healthy to suppress my emotions to the point that they hijack my subconscious mind r to reveal themselves, but that is how it prefer it.

So my sincere apologies to Jim Kwik.  I will not be capturing any of my dreams after I have awoken.  If that means having to forgo some creative idea or other, so be it. 

Perhaps some day in the future, I may be ready to tackle this issue in a different way, but for now, I would rather have my waking moments, if not my sleeping ones free of tension and anxiety.

Came across a picture of an acquaintance of mine posing partially submerged from within in an infinity pool. Classy shades covering eyes. Long straight hair falling gracefully down her back. She looked the epitome of poise and beauty. Even her full body swim suit looked like something straight off a designer’s rack. Had seen an equally awesome and equally cool picture of another one of my friends some years back.  Both these gals looked like supermodels out for a photo shoot then casual vacationers enjoying a day at the pool.

Reminds me of the way I look in my swimming gear.

Tight swimming cap literally plastered on to my entire scalp with my ears sticking out on either side (they always stick out, no matter how hard I try to push them under the cap). Huge bulging swimming goggles covering everything between the ridge of my nose and my forehead. Even my full body swim suit looks like a hand me down from someone’s grandmother.

The only model I resemble, so attired, is probably the front side of a Volkswagen.

Life is so not fair 👿

Mystery of the desolate lane

Just on the outskirts of "lidhar" village on Bedian road, a side lane juts out at 90 degrees and leads straight into DHA Phase VI.

The first time I took that road was when I was coming back from Bedian towards my home in Phase V.

As I turned towards the narrow road, it seemed to be all lit up with dazzling lights. Those lights belonged to the massive Pakistan Kidney and Liver Institute and Research Center located at the end of the road adjacent to Phase VI. It is fairly short distance from Bedian to Phase VI which is covered in no more than a minute or so even if the car is advancing at a not so accelerated speed. Before I even knew it, I was inside Phase VI and heading towards my home.

Next time I took that lane, I was moving in the opposite direction: going from Phase VI towards Bedian.  Somehow I ended up on a completely different road than the one I had driven on previously, even though I had followed the exact same route and directions as before.

Unlike the previous road, this particular one looked little more than a narrow lane with deep grown hedges on either side. The absence of any kind of light made it look gloomier and scarier than it probably actually was. I drove along convinced I had taken the wrong turning but drove on nonetheless as there was no U turn to go back. Barely a minute later I came upon the T junction which was non other than Bedain road itself running perpendicular to the lane. Badian, also in the absence of any kind of street light, was equally dark, but being a much busier thoroughfare, was much livelier and hence a less scary road than the one I had just traveled through.

How could this be?  

How was it possible that I had taken the same route both times and yet traveled on two completely different roads each time I had done so. Utterly perplexed I looked back just before turning on to Bedain and that is when reality dawned on me.

One way from Bedian to Phase VI, the massive and well lit structure of the Pakistan Kidney and Liver Center and Research Institute is in full view.  The brightness is so hypnotizing that one does not even notice the dark and gloomy road that one happens to be travelling on at the time.

In the opposite direction, as one travels from Phase VI to Bedian, the Institute building is in the back and with no light to distract one, the dark dreariness of the desolate road hits one with full force.

That is when I realize the importance of the keeping a clear end goal in mind. Those who have a bright and clear destination in their focus barely notice the hardships or isolated dreariness of any part of their journey. Those who have no clear and brightly lit destination to guide them will question their choice of path. Confused and unsure, they will look for U turns to retrieve their steps at multiple points of the journey.

So in a nutshell, if goals are destinations that you need to get to, then choose your goals carefully. Choose goals that beckon you with their brightness and give you the courage to keep moving forward.

In the end the important thing to remember is to not be daunted by depressing and seemingly isolated parts of the journey. Sometimes the sharpest and the most focused goals appear to one on the bleakest and darkest stretches of the road.