Twenty-three

Twenty-three. My birthdate. The number of books cumulatively checked out right now on all my library cards. And...

...the number of days I have left to GO HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yippee!!

BTW I hope I remember I'm supposed to return all those books before the 9th of December.

Thump, Thump!

So, the guilt I was talking of two posts ago finally caught up with me. So did the panic. The new music of the night is ...my heart, though stout and brave, still like a muffled drum is beating... Whoopsie, I'm a seer. I told you in my last post that I'd do the rest of Longfellow's Psalm of Life if I wasn't careful.

Really, really back to work!

The Music of the Night!

This is what I really do call 'ideal' ...well, not three days before a paper is due and barely a day before the long-dreaded long-awaited Dissertation Meeting with my research advisor, but well, situations like this are so rare that, when they do arrive, they're ideal, regardless of circumstance. And well, I brought this on myself... I could've waited, but nooooo!!! I've got to do things like this only when "art is long and time is fleeting, and our hearts, though stout and brave..." (If I don't stop, I'll land up quoting the whole of Longfellow's Psalm of Life. Remember it, N., you of the anonymous blog? Heehee.)

Maybe I should get down to actually telling you what 'the situation' is...

Consider this. I'm sitting on my bed with the laptop on the chair in front of me. (That's pretty much how I do most of my work, my workdesk is filled with books and paintboxes and mail and CDs and other rather elaborate stationery, and currently there's a half-finished jigsaw puzzle under all this, like as if the mess wasn't enough already.) On the bed, strewn about me, are some ten audio CD-covers and three or four casette-covers, most of their contents lying right next to my laptop (or my music system). The theme: Western Classical. My Windows Explorer shows me a slew of classical music MP3's and .wav files. Real, Winamp and Musicmatch running. My music system alternately playing CDs and casettes. And this Blogger page, the only non-classical-music window up right now on the screen... I seem to give the impression that I'm studying for a PhD on The Sad Music of Tchaikovsky or something (yes, he was a true 'Russian' sometimes in his music, wasn't he?), when the mood right now is anything but sad, and definitely a lot more than just Tchaikovsky.

What's up, Doc??

Here's the background. A friend of mine asked me to compile for him a set of "must-hear" classical music. This happened about a month ago. I think I just got up an hour ago. Here's to Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, Shubert, Chopin, Vivaldi, and the rest... here's to classical music for relaxation, for power, for happiness, for success, for love and for the piano and violin... I'm totally rambling. Well, I own this space, so it's alright. Getting back. Here's to the medley of glorious sounds, delicious moods, here's to my last hour of relaxation (not deserved yet, but hell, I'll work overnighters to make up). Here's to my Collectors Edition of the Complete Three Ballets (The Sleeping Beauty, The Nutcracker, The Swan Lake... aren't you Jealous?). Here's to Fur Elise, Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, Danses des Petit Cygnes, and innumerable other exquisite beauties!!

Hmmm, I'm done with the ramble, and with most of my selections.

Back to work. And since we're preparing for the release of The Goblet of Fire come November 18th, I'll say it as Dumbledore would say it, Chop Chop!

Different Worlds?

Twenty-nine days to go, to take off from here. This afternoon I received an SMS from my sister who said she was celebrating the fact that I'd touch down at Sahar Airport (I still cannot call it by it's new, utterly non-creative, name) exactly thirty days and five hours later. Made me want to celebrate too, but I was deep in the middle of work.

And a word of explanation about my absence: too much to do!!! This time I'm determined that I shouldn't take this world back into my home, and I've been working pretty hard so far to ensure it stays that way. The unfortunate thing I've realized is that I cannot get any of my other worlds into this world either. There's a wall there, pretty solid, can't converge this world with the ones outside. However much I try. When I go out on vacation, I'm Me. When I get back, I'm the boring, geeky grad student who stresses out at the drop of a hat. I feel the change as soon as I glimpse the city for the first moment after my brief flirtation with the "outside world". Yes, I look forward to the brief breaks I permit myself, but every minute of those breaks, I'm conscious of the fact that I'm going to have a worse time of it, the minute I walk back onto Chicago soil. Kinda taints the trip, but at least it leaves me more prepared. And call me pessimistic and all that, but even now, when I think of my vacation, my mind is already running the old Don't get too excited, it's only a break, you're coming back! routine.

Don't get me wrong. I love what I'm doing, I couldn't enjoy my research and my work more, and I'm intensely happy so long as I'm doing that. But, at the same time I know I used to have a far wider world beyond this, that, honestly, does not exist in Chicago. At least, in the past, I didn't feel guilty not working for a while. Now I do, even if I deserve the break.

I received an email from a really close friend yesterday. (Thank you, S. You made my day!) Apparently he'd gotten through the latest Happy Rotter (no, that's intentional, that's what I call The Boy Who Lived With A Scar On His Forehead) and was talking about how much more "grown-up" it seemed as compared to the previous ones (Of course, I agree). And then, in his mail came the question I've been asking myself for such a long while now: Have we grown up already?? And with the multiple question-marks, too.

Yes, we have. I only wish it was a simpler world to grow up into.

=====

P.S. The world seems more a la Dickens than it did when I read him as a child. Talking of which, I had a rather animated conversation (on email) with an old friend a couple of weeks ago, and she was in the middle of Oliver Twist. Made me remember Dickens so much, I walked out to the library and picked up A Tale of Two Cities and Great Expectations immediately. Read them years ago, over and over, and man!, even now Dickens does not grow old. But, on the other hand, no wonder the temporary despondency. Aaargghh!! I need to open up my 'Bible' again, i.e., the worn-out copy of Atlas Shrugged sitting right here. And S., by the sound of it, you need to get back to it once more, too!

OWWW!!

Damn. Should've known this would happen. It happened last year at this time too. Here's the RULE: I cannot listen to Denver (or even think of his songs, especially Country Roads or anything with the East Coast or mountains) in the six months that are Central Time (as opposed to Central Daylight Saving Time).

I so hate this featureless land. (Not to mention my inability to adapt. After all, I do have to shoulder a part of the blame too!)

Now excuse me while I go send my 60-odd Denver songs into hibernation.

The Countdown Begins...

I don't know why it began today... it's not like a 'landmark' day ("Oh, only a month more!"). Nope. But, 39 days from today I'll be home, I'll be with family... most of them. I'll be on vacation!!!! I honestly cannot remember the last time I was on vacation with nothing at all to worry me, and I desperately hope (well, my family desperately hopes more than I do) that this time is different.

All of a sudden these lines come to mind:

Springtime is rollin' around slowly
Grey skies are bringin' me down
I can't remember when I've ever been so lonely
I forgot what it's like to be home
Can't remember what it's like to be home

It's from John Denver's Starwood in Aspen. While we're on the song, here's my adaptation of the chorus:
It's a long way from IL to India
It's a long time to hang in the sky
It's a long way home to blissful Mumbai
My sweet coastal paradise
With the warm sun shining in my eyes.

So here's to today's number: 39!

(P.S. While we're on this post, in case Mom, Dad, Pig, any of you read this blog, don't let Denver's lines panic you... it's not like I'm "really lonely" and "can't remember what it's like to be home" or anything, I remembered the song because it's about going home after a long time.)