Fieldwork

This quote by Czeslaw Milosz is exactly right for thinking about, remembering, planning or doing fieldwork in India.

At the entrance, my bare feet on the dirt floor, Here, gusts of heat; at my back, white clouds. I stare and stare. It seems I was called for this: To glorify things just because they are.

New Developments

The Shark has a job.
A hotshot wear-a-suit type of job.
Smooth talking snake.
I knew he could do it. I'm so proud!

Except.
(There is always an except) -
So far, the only relationship in my life that hasn't been ruined by the onset (or the end) of a career change / advancement has been my love affair with my cat.
Who, I am completely confident, will never EVER put me second to his rat race or resented me working on mine (in fact, he spends hours sitting by my side as I read. Silently. But with love. Something a human man could never do.)
Oh, Pasha! Love of my life! Why couldn't you have been a man instead of a baby tiger?

Girls of the world who can carry off red lipstick.
Don't listen to the girls of the world who tell you:
a.) That no one can carry it off.
b.) That you specifically can't carry it off.
c.) That only those types of women can carry it off.

Life's too short to not wear red lipstick, bloody high heels, tutu-skirts, glitter, flowers, pink.
Especially if the reason for not wearing them is that you'll be called one of those types of women.

after some calculations, i have decided

... that I prove, almost mathematically, that I am Carrie Bradshaw.
Down to mannerisms, the laptop by the window, the whirly tutu skirts and the curly hair that I always want part brown, part gold, all wild.

But here is the twist:
I am also, equally, a hippie at heart. Who scorns Carrie Bradshaw. Who wants an allotment to grow her own vegetables and who is actually happiest sitting cross legged doing interviews in a field.

Either/Or?
Like I said before: Versus is a dirty word.

Promise to self

Dear Self.
I promise.
I will NOT ever try to fit in to get ahead.

************************************

Explanation later. I've watched Sex and the City, I've had a glorious afternoon out with a friend, I've walked around drinking coffee and eating croissant in the pale winter sun. And now it's 11 pm and I have yet to prepare for a huge meeting tomorrow that I haven't even started thinking about.
No matter how grown up my house, I fear I am still very much on a studenty schedule.

On another note:
Wearing a man's shirt is surprisingly... I don't know the word. Unbuttoned just so, with a string of (fake) pearls, a tiny black woollen jumper and dark skinny jeans and short boots. I thought boyfriend's shirts were off-limits for reasons of frumpiness. But no, not so frumpy after all. I like immensely.

Thoughts from the afterglow

I feel Neo-esque.
When he first sees the Matrix scrolling greenly down a computer screen, he’s flummoxed and stunned. As the movie progresses, his view of the matrix toggles back and forth between the numbers and the ‘real’ world that they represent.And then there comes a sort of epiphany; the views merge and he can see the numbers for what they are. He has grasped a new language.Of course, this is an imperfect analogy (aren’t they all?)But the spirit of the thing’s sort of the same.

Especially when you consider that I was once a little girl who used to cry bitter, desperate tears when faced with my math homework that no amount of cajoling or positive reinforcement (or, on occasion, a sharp smack from my father) could remedy. And now here I am, (resigned or victorious, you decide), not so scared anymore, and finally able to see that behind the big mass of 1s, 2s, 3s and graphs, there’s the world that I am just trying to understand.
(All caveats about the ability of statistics to elicit perfect understanding apply.)

You’re not going to believe this:

I love SPSS.

I’ve just scratched the surface, but if this were a man, I’d definitely be airing out my tiny black dress. He and I have a lot of very seductive dancing coming up.

Flowing from this, three observations about self:

a.) Self is incapable of liking anything. I either love it or nothing.

b.) Love is a necessary catalyst for work. I had to fall in love with SPSS, or my data analysis wouldn’t have gotten done. If you don’t believe me, consider the fact that it’s already 4 months late – all this time, I’ve been trying to get started. I have no doubt that it would’ve come to a choice between ‘Do this thing whether you like it or not’ or ‘Fail your PhD’. I would have gritted my teeth and allowed the latter to just happen. Lame? Perhaps. But it’s in my blood: No love for what you are supposed to do for 12 hours of each day? No can do it.

c.) Erotic love is the only kind. I have to make everything tactile. It’s all about how SPSS clicks and how smooth the curves are (and oh baby, they’re smooth) and how it gets under my skin so I dream of it. Anything less than a full-fledged falling is just not possible. The landscape of my destiny is pitted with cliff-edges, all leading headlong into rapture.

No, I can’t quit the drama and just work. If you want me to, take your dirty paws off my blog at once.