Anya's Musings

Everything is turning so cold these days. I like it now but I'm not so sure I'll like it a month later when the chill starts reaching my bones. Or in December in general. How is one supposed to give their 1st semester exams in their Masters in December? It's cold. It's freezing. It's inhuman to make anyone write in such a time. And, now, even though I spend some time with Plato and Aristotle, trying to understand what the hey they think about poetry and why exactly it matters, and what crazy bawdy stories Chaucer came up with waaaaay back in history, I get tired of it. And, honestly, who wouldn't?

So these days, I'm de-stressing, how? By watching movies. And, somehow, they're French. But then again, my options in English are Paranormal Activity and such like which I refuse to watch alone. And I am not that shameless yet to go out for The Social Network when my exams are round the corner. I, however, am shameless enough to watch french movies at home, curled up on my mat, inside my cozy blanket with a nice mug of coffee. Now, I know what they say about coffee making your nerves all wrung up and making you all edgy.. But, I find coffee among some of the most relaxing things. A nice mug of coffee (cold coffee in summers) somehow manage to calm me down and not give me a headache and not make me zonked out or blank or crazy-bitch.

So, what have I watched till now? Mainly the movies I have seen before. Them being:

1. Amélie (Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain)

2. Priceless (Hors de Prix)

3. Coco Before Chanel (Coco Avant Chanel)

4. Persepolis

I'm a big fan of Audrey Tautou. Big Surprise.

Amélie is one of the best, quirkiest and cutest movies ever made. It is so magical and I end up relating to Amélie so much. And it tells you so much about living your own life to the fullest. Like Amélie, we all realize how important it is to live life like there would be no tomorrow and help others' achieve it but when it comes to us, we shy away. Besides, this movie pays a lot of attention to one my my personal favorite paintings by Pierre-Auguste Renoir--- Luncheon of the Boating Party.

Then there is Priceless. It is a modern day Breakfast at Tiffany's. In fact, the director of Priceless himself admits to be inspired by the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's and both the book and the movie are among my favorites (I am a huge fan of Audrey Hepburn as well... maybe actress with the name 'Audrey' are talented).

Coco Chanel was one of the best things that ever happened to fashion. Coco Avant Chanel is a brilliant movie. It does not glorify Chanel or bitches about her. Okay, so she was a little too obsessed with the colour black, but then again, considering she was living at a time when everything pink and frilly and gordy was considered fashion, I don't blame her.

And last, there is Persepolis. Seriously, watch this one. Audrey Tautou is not in this movie but this is a classic. As goos as the book itself. It is cool and you will love the way Marjane Satrapi's character starts singing "Eye of the tiger" with an Iranian accent!! It is brilliant. It is technically an animation but it is better than anything you can possibly imagine.

I now want to see He loves me... He loves me Not (À La Folie... pas du tout). It deals with Erotomania, a psychological disorder also known as "Delusions of Love". At present, I am very very intrigued with this psychological disorder. Maybe I should download it. Hmmm...

But that is not what I intended to write about today. I was just thinking about what lots of people have telling me to do: taking my writing seriously. A hard task. It requires a dedication.

Anyways, I got thinking of women writers in particular and then, gradually, onto something, a teacher of mine had said something in passé over 2 years ago: All women writers commit suicide. Now, that, obviously is not true. But it got me thinking.

Most of the women writers do seem to suffer from some sort of a depression. Most. Not all. I hope. I mean, people like Doris Lessing and Arundhati Roy and even Sarah Webb seem okay... psychologically. But most women writers do really seem to be troubled.

The most famous example of this is Virginia Woolf. I haven't read much by her... just a few essays and Mrs. Dalloway, but still, I adore the way she writes. I do. Except for the lesbian bit which I frankly don't/ can't relate to. She writes with this poetic, rhythmic truth, it almost breaks your heart. Oh, if you're a fan of Mrs. Dalloway, please watch The Hours. It's beautiful. It is. Virginia Woolf was famously a psychological case. She was always nervous, apparently imagined things and well, you get the idea. In the end, life became simply too unbearable for to live. It's tragic and I feel really bad for her husband, Leonard Woolf. He seemed to have genuinely love her.. which most men & women won't do when your wife or husband is "mad" and has a history of committing suicide.

Ok, the next: Emily Dickinson. I mean, dude, she kept herself confided to one tiny room. In that sense, the exact opposite of Woolf who wanted to get back to London with all its charm and life. Dickinson started wearing only white. Didn't come out of her room for years they say. Starting changing her name's spelling. And fantasized about Death.

Agatha Christie is known to have run away and "disappeared" because her 1st husband walked out on her for another woman as a result of which Christie suffered from depression.

No, ok, of course this is a stereotype... all women writers cannot be unhappy! I'm not. Touchwood.

But maybe sadness and suffering has something to do with writing.. Maybe. Maybe you can assess certain emotions better then. Maybe it's not just women, maybe it's men too. But there is something intangible there. J. K. Rowling is among my favorite authors ever and she openly admits to having suffered from depression. I really admire her and she has helped me with her Harvard Speech in getting me out of a really hard time in life. Her courage to get through this thing, with practically no ray of hope for a secure tomorrow and her will, still, to write Harry Potter's life down on paper is inspiring to me. If I were under clinical depression, or nervous or shut up in my own room willingly, I doubt if I would have the will to write.

Jane Austen is my other favorite author. She never married. And she lived in the 19th Century!! She created Mr. Darcy. I wonder whether society's taunts ever got to her.

It's amazing how these women kept their will to write.

I've always thought of Mr. Darcy from Pride & Prejudice as, well, perfect! I mean, come on, the man tells Eliza "I ardently admire and love you", saves her family from disgrace even if it means giving money to his arch enemy... and more importantly, he is a gentleman. But ofcourse, this perfect a man could only be fiction and I thank Jane Austen for creating him. Always, always, I've wished that I could live in Pride & Prejudice as Elizabeth Bennet.

Offlate though, I've got this fear, an irrational fear, that maybe I'm in a wrong book. I even dreamt this horrid dream that I'm in Jane Eyre... and worse, Wide Sargasso Sea! I don't know, I just don't like Mr. Rochester. Come what may, he's married and even if Bertha Mason (aka Antoinette Cosway in another book) was mad, he still did lock her up in an attic and was about to get married to another woman in front of her! Even though Rebecca is similar to Jane Eyre in more than one ways, I'd prefer to be in Rebecca. I don't even mind being in Gone With The Wind so much!!

I really want to be in The Princess Bride. True Love seems a divine thing and I would love to hear someone say to me "As you wish" the way Westley says it to Buttercup. This is one of the sweetest books ever written. A book I do not want to be in: Tokyo Cancelled. Weird book. I didn't understand half the stories. Did Rana Dasgupta intend it to be this way, really? I think not. And I mean it, he's a good writer, come what may, but I wouldn't want to be in that book.

I wish I could choose a story for my life like this. I wish I could say "I'll live in Pride & Prejudice or The Princess Bride" and that it would happen.

But really, I do wish to read all these people up, whether or not I agree with them. Nietzsche, Heidegger, Kierkegaard, Kafka, Dostoyevsky... the like. Hobsbawm, even, who knows? Okay, so maybe not Hobsbawm. I wonder, why marxists, core marxists, hate women. And then, how the marxists-feminsts emerged.

I have a feeling, that much as I want, it will be a while till I actually start reading them.

As of now, I'm trying to find some Oriya literature. Nothing too contemporary. And so far, I have managed to find just one short story. Central Library isn't as well stocked as they would have you believe. However, I shall keep looking.

Another project I have undertaken: to read all of Agatha Christie's. I'm starting on with Hercule Poirot ones. I'd have read Murder of Roger Ackroyd (brilliant), Murder on the Orient Express (again, brilliant), The Big Four (*blech*), Murder In The Mews, Hercule Poirot's Christmas, The Mysterious Affair at Styles, The Murder on the Links, Peril at End House, Lord Edgware Dies, The ABC Murders, Dumb Witness (stupid book) and Curtain: Poirot's Last Case.

So, with this new self-prescribed project in mind, I went to the Brit. Lib. and have, by far, read the following... Evil Under the Sun, Death on the Nile and Murder in Mesopotamia. The last book has such a stupid narrator, it spoils the book.

Hoping to read more.

And then threaten to take it away? Only, thank God, it won;t go away at it's beck and call, because its truly, unconditionally yours.

I always say that the beauty of a language is that it is limited in terms that it is inadequate to actually describe exactly each and every feeling. So it is with people. A perfection is a person lies in his/her unique personal imperfections.

I found one of those aswell. Perfect in their imperfections. Happy as a rain can make me, frigid as the north pole at times. But it's mine. And I swear to God, I'll do everything in my power to keep it so. Touchwood.

(Although it does play on in my ridiculously over-stuffed head... First I was afraid, I was petrified...!)

Anyways, so law school isn't exactly a fairy tale. It's killing me, in more ways than you can imagine, trust me. Honestly, all those movies and novels, they over-hype the glory of law school. Ah, anyways, Criminal Law is more fun this semester. Also, I like International Law; such a pity though that I don't quite like those classes as much.

I've been reading a lot of Agatha Christie's off late. All Hercule Poirot. I like him way better than Jane Marple. About to read Curtain very soon, can hardly wait! :)

Also, I've been rather philosophical offlate (hibernation has a whole new level!). Life is like a flight of sorts. You are thrown from a cliff (a very dangerous one, at that) and either you take off gracefully and fly or you, well, fall down and crack your skull. A very dear friend of mine met with a ghastly accident offlate. I went to visit her; I wanted to cry when I did. I've never before seen anyone who has survived a serious major accident. I didn't know it'd be that bad. But she survived and I'm grateful to God for that. There really are so many things that can go worse in so many ways. She used to crib about pimples at one time, and now her face is in stitches. Life has its own (rather cruel) ways of teaching you to be grateful. I saw 3 Idiots after that and I almost laughed to see Sharman Joshi's character only in some casts even after a suicidal jump from the 3rd floor of a building. That's how I thought it was, all my life. I laughed because then it struck me that that's not how it happens in life. When you survive a near death experience of that sort, you don't just end up in ICU or comma where funny comments can wake you up, you don't end up with a few plasters. You end up with a body you wont recognize, that you'll need a physiotherapist to help you understand. You'll forget the names to little objects. Your face will change.

It is a sad revelation when you're the first or the second person in question. But also, an eye opening one.

I end this post with a prayer to God to make my friend ok.

So many, that its mind boggling.

So many, that you do not realise you're feeling it.

Sometimes you feel like laughing and crying at the same time.

Sometimes everything is just there but still is a long, long wait.

Sometimes, all it takes is a hug.

Sometimes, you just sit and look at the rain for hours.

Sometimes the present itself is a nostalgia.

Sometimes you're insecure of nothing tangible.

Sometimes, everything is like the sea... coming & going.

Sometimes you just don't make sense when you're trying to pen down everything.

1. I went halfway in my trials of doing a paper on Blogs & other personal narratives.

2. I came across a blog (which, to my best of knowledge, has ceased to exist since more than a year, and even if it did, it wouldn't make a difference now) which made my mind travel in directions and exotic places which were alien to me. It made me fall in love with law forever.

Also, those were the days when quite a lot of people around me wanted me to realise my literary ambitions more than myself (they are still more enthusiastic but I guess they know I'm not easy) and friends started attending seminars (which I made excuses to get out of) on how to become a successful writer. Funnily (or not so funnily, depending upon your sense of humor), all these seminars told my friends one thing: that it is advisable to keep a blog so that one gets an idea of how the unknown masses react to your writings.

With that purpose in mind, I had started this blog. At the time I had thought that I wouldn't even update it as regularly but I've shocked myself and pleasantly so. This blog has been a great outlet for screaming my lungs out about Feminism and other stuff that grabbed my fancy.

Sadly though, offlate, this blog of mine, which I've grown to, has been turned from a literary medium of thoughts to a public forum to discuss my personal life which are totally unrelated to my posts. This includes questions about who I might be dating. I don't see why random unknown people would be influenced by it & if I ever want to disclose information about my personal life, i will. On my own accord.

Please, a small request, do not make it an imitation of a social network.

The past year has given me a lot & taken some away. All for the best, I guess. I still have all the faith in God, despite whatever one might say. I should be off now...reading Chocolat these days & have Tokyo Cancelled waiting in line. Hope you all have a great year ahead. Have a jolly time.