Those Perfect Ones

Ever come across someone, in life or over the web, who seems to have it all?

Everything.

Intelligence, Wealth, Beauty, Taste, Opportunity, Creativity, Courage, Popularity, Health, Friendship, Admiration, Self-Assurance… I am tempted to add ‘Peace of Mind’ but let’s not get carried away with over-the-top assumptions.

You see them doing everything they want, the way they want and effortlessly too! They’re happy with everything and everyone is happy with them. They’re humble (Damn it!) but you know that they have a wholesome love for their self. Something tells you that when they look in the mirror, they must smile and mean it because they see something that makes them genuinely happy. 

I’m not naïve. Or so I believe.. I know that no one is or has it perfect. Everyone has their share of Ups and Downs. But these people I refer to? I can only assume the Downs. I don’t see it. It’s probably there. Hell, I know it’s there. But the very fact that I can’t see it is fascinating enough. How do they manage to keep it together? How is even the negative stuff so romantic and genuinely ‘all for the best’?? I know they say it is but quite honestly sometimes the only upgrade to a downfall is that ‘Life goes on’. It doesn’t necessarily mean life gets better. No. It just means it will continue. That makes some people happy enough to call it better but I’m too sceptical to see it that way. 

But these… Magical Creatures. Their life is on a constant upswing from good to better and better to best and, if stretched, back to good. Of course, all of life is like that. For a person who’s had it ‘Better’, ‘Good’ would be a dampener, never mind the ‘Average’ and the ‘Really Bad’ state of somebody else. 

Your tatty pyjamas with printed cows only make them look endearing. They come off looking fun and spontaneous with that Lime-Green wig you bought as part of a Halloween costume ensemble; Perfect smile in place, thank you very much. The bad camera angles that made your teeth look like Dolarhyde‘s dentures and your paunch a geographical feature, don’t detract from their looks. And the Angels in Heaven themselves would descend on earth to gawk, should they decide to go all out and dress themselves up. 

They have the money. Oh yes, they do. And before you say, ‘Oh but what a waste… They do things just to show off and because they can…’ Oh no they don’t. They go to exotic destinations and indulge in ‘making music’ or taking time-off to ‘write a travel piece’ or go to your dream college and take up that Fall Course that you so desperately want to but won’t because you can’t afford it especially when it doesn’t give you enough credits. You know that if they wanted to they would’ve done stuff just as meaningless-ly (Is that a legitimate word even? Maybe I should ask these Those Perfect Ones. They would know.) as the other rich brats whose exploits we see on E! But they’re sensible and individualistic. They are independent, quirky, tasteful. Their choices are personal and meaningful.

Their family is just as open and indulging. The ones who don’t judge their Artsy self and does not pressurize ‘Appropriateness’ on them. They add to the family legacy in their own way and not carry its burden. They find the perfect mate at that perfect time when perfection is an eventuality. That soul-mate who has just the same amount of everything or is that perfect cog to the machinery of their life. They will plan that perfect wedding where they can afford to buy everything a person can dream of but will choose to not be superficial about it. Their wedding invitations will be fun, in that you won’t think how much it cost (Although you can feel the weight of what you’re holding) but will feel a little less creative than you thought you were when you see the format.

That famous photographer you heard of? Yeah, s/he comes to the wedding and takes pictures that make you smile, laugh and tear up the way wedding photographs are meant to. The clicks themselves are not bourgeois family portraits of the wealthy. They’re personal, fun, confident. And you wonder what it feels like to have such an inclusive smile when you look the camera in the eye and know it will reveal that innate beauty that people compliment you for.

I might have come off jealous. I don’t think I am. Mostly anyway. But being someone who is strictly middle class, has over-sized dreams that border on fantasies, who reads fiction because it helps her escape from mediocrity, whose blog is a secret because she’s tired of having to explain and argue with people about her thoughts without being labelled something petty and for whom photograph-moments are a decent-sized fear? This breed of super-people are a source of feverish fascination.

I know that I’m not accounting for what I don’t see and am romanticizing what I do. Maybe that is all there is to it: my IMAX vision of their Multiplex life. But I am astutely aware of how, in any case, I’m just the audience. To this, some of you might say that I am probably just as fascinating to someone else and its all just perspective. True. And deadly depressing. Somehow its more comforting to think of myself as mediocre with better things to look forward to than, in any parallel universe even, be the best it can get. I need to at least have a fantasy of something bigger and better. 

The closest I come to giving a physical form to these graphic thoughts is what I’ve read and related to, if only partially. Those second tier (albeit important) service providers you read about in Fictional books on the Golden Age of Hollywood. The ones on the fringe, who did not have the talent or the looks or appeal or power that people they dealt with had but were happily associated, even if from afar, to that glitz. 

Of course, there’s no one I associate with, who is such perfection combined. They regret something or the other about themselves. But they come achingly close when I choose to ignore their remonstrations. It’s the people I have as acquaintances that have such a hold over my fantasies. The ones I don’t know well but whose timeline I have access to. This, of course, highlights and consequently overthrows the basic premise of my description of The Perfect Ones but whoever said this was a Scientific discourse?

In the interest of being a Hollywood fan and clarifying that I’m not a nut, I do NOT look at or chase Perfection like Nina did.

Hope this is an enlightening read on my thirtieth birthday.  

The Firsts

The first is always the sweetest. Check out my first Share at the link below!

Looking back at The Future..

Evolution

PROLOGUE

The Errant Non-Canine

A beautiful German Shepherd Dog completes my family of six. She’s gorgeous, loving, insecure and a Non-Canine. She has seemingly relinquished all Olfactory and Auditory Talents of a regular dog. While my Brother watched her displaying more human traits than dog-ish tendencies, he said, “She is the biggest evidence of the reality of Evolution.” I laughed so hard, there were tears in my eyes and narrated the story several times to varying audience with much gusto. It also made me want to write on my view of Human Evolution.

EVOLUTION

“In the broadest sense, evolution is merely change, and so is all-pervasive; galaxies, languages and political systems all evolve. Biological evolution is change in the properties of populations of organisms that transcend the lifetime of a single individual. The ontogeny of an individual is not considered evolution; individual organisms do not evolve. The changes in populations that are considered evolutionary are those that are inheritable via the genetic material from one generation to the next. Biological evolution may be slight or substantial; it embraces everything fom slight changes in the proportion of different alleles within a population (such as those determining blood types) to the successive alterations that ledfrom the earliest protoorganism to snails, bees, giraffes and dandelions.”
-Douglas J.Futuyama in Evolutionary Biology, Sinauer Associates, 1986

A working definition of Evolution can be:

“Evolution is a process that results in heritable changes in a population spread over many generations.”

 

NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF EVOLUTION

Its in the very Nature of Life to constantly attempt to reach the ideal state of balance so that the maximum number of species survive. When a Species is failing to survive, to maintain a balance in its numbers, Nature steps in to help. To do so it introduces quirks, instances, a fork in the road. If the Species is fast enough, it will embrace the quirk and achieve survival. It will Evolve.

Random Variation

The Cone of Probabilities: Multi-faceted Occurances of the Past lead to the Present Point only to open up the Cone of Multiple Possibilities for the Future.

Every life form is a mixed product of Nature and Nurture. The happenings before and in the lifetime of an Organism affect the course of events as experienced by it. Consequently, every occurrence changes the Organism itself in a small or big way. It causes a Variance. Most of these Variances might die a silent death but some are either adapted physically or become a genetic part of the Organism. Its Random because its at a very localised level and the cause of the Variance lies outside the Will of the Organism. Its also need-based so unless there is a practical necessity for the Variance, it will not get passed on. It will die as a quirk.

Survival of the Fittest
The Random Variation either is an advancement or a regression in the qualities of the Species. The Advanced Variation helps the Species to survive the adversities of life. It helps the Species propagate and pass on the Variance. The quicker the organism adapts to the Variance, the better its chances. The better chance it has to make its Variance more popular, make more of the species in its own image and have the Variation as an advantage against its Predators. Possibly become the Predator.

Natural Selection
For any Species to survive, it needs resources. It needs the full might of all species and all creatures through the food pyramid to survive, to balance out its own fallibility.
When there is general balance in Nature, a species can survive by increasing its population. To balance the adverse effects of the survival tactics of other species, Nature gives a fillip to the successful Variant.
At the time of imbalance, Nature will, to help propagate All Life, select the Variance that achieves Natural Balance.
The Variance gets passed on several generations either by Nature (Genetic Inheritance) or Nurture (As a practice or habit). The Fittest propagate the Variance.The Variance now has a stronghold. It is not longer a Variance. It is the mode of things to be. It is a necessary Upgrade. 

Evolution
Most organisms of the species have now adapted to the Variation. The Ones that didn’t have perished. The very Nature of the Species has altered. It has Evolved. As part of its evolution, it altered the course of events and the status of other species in the food chain, in the scheme of things. It has triggered the need to evolve in other species. It has triggered the need to balance out the success of this species with that of another which will lead to its own downfall and in turn bring back the need to find another Variance.

 

THE HOME-SAPIEN

We were somewhere in the middle of the Food Chain. We consumed Plants and Herbivores. We had Predators to keep our population in check and in turn we maintained the balance in the population of Bunnies and Weed. But our skills were at best mediocre. We were good at escaping but not by much. Trees provided us food and protection from predators so it made sense to make it our home. Groups provided us with the kind of power in numbers which a loner could not match. So Nature provided us with the propensity to propagate. It sharpened our attraction to those of our species with whom we could reproduce. So we swung from tree to tree keeping our numbers up. Who knew that Swinging like that would give us the Opposable Thumb and introduce a Variant…

Image Courtesy: http://www.galileo.org

Today we have increased our numbers to destruction levels. We evolved faster than Nature’s rate of introducing the elusive Variant. But the process is in motion. Its happening as you read this. Our advancement in Science and Technology is happening faster than Nature’s ability to replenish what we devour to advance. We are depleting our resources and cutting off our survival boosters. Our medicines are creating better super bugs. AIDS has vastly reduced our numbers. Cancer, the Mutation is eroding our population.

THE HOMO-SEXUAL

The Evolution of the Homo Sexual:
Natural. Necessary. Now.

But Nature is not our enemy. Our enemy is our numbers. Nature will help us survive with other species, in harmony with them. So while our numbers do need to reduce, we also need an advanced form of human to carry on the species after balance has been established. Our species needs a smart Variation. A Variation that attempts to reach the ideal state of balance so that the maximum number of species survive. A Variation which produces healthy, intelligent human beings that can relinquish the obsolete need to reproduce. The Fittest will be those who embrace this Advanced Variant. Nature will select only those that do and in time a new race of humans will become prevalent and change the current definition of ‘Regular’ Human Being.

Empire State of Mind

I had first heard the song ‘Empire State of Mind’ in the opening scene of Sex and the City 2 on a slow day. There are songs about places but “… Concrete Jungle where dreams are made of…” was a tall claim. Now I’m a city bred girl. I love sedentary vacation as much as the next person but if you would ask me to live that life, you’d be barking up the wrong tree. So the lyrics fascinated me enough to source the channel that aired Sex and the City, The T.V Show.

Thing is, I don’t care much for Carrie and Mr. Big. What I do love is that the show is an ode to New York City. And whether NY is actually like they portray it or not is up for debate but the format does do a pretty neat job of putting an idea of New York in place.

There is this one episode in particular that stayed with me. It started, like all others, with a monologue by Carrie. She was talking about how New York is genuinely The City that never Sleeps because you can have anything from Chinese food to Condoms (Scene showed Samantha Jones at her Door) delivered to your door step at 3 AM.
Those words immortalised my fantasy.
In such a state of mind, how could I not watch New York, I Love You!? I mean, its a movie about people of all kinds, races, ages, aspirations, sizes and shapes who called New York their home and who fit in its harsh landscape like the pieces of a Jig-Saw, for heaven’s sake.
Needless to say it only ignited the fantasy into a working passion.

Maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe it’s not all it’s cut-up to be.
Maybe I only think I’ll like that life.

Whatever you say, I’m sure you’re right. But I just Have to Know! My life would genuinely be incomplete without my one New York Day where I do… whatever it is the New Yorkers do.

One day. It’s all I ask.

The Face

Most days are okay. Hell, they’re even happy.
One minute I’m laughing. The jokes are hysterical. Music is ‘awesome’. Work is satisfying. Movies are meaningful.
Before I know it, a pain developes in my chest cavity. Its like a trigger. The pain accesses memories, stills. And its like waching a movie.
The pain is rising in waves. The pictures are rushing in. They’re speeding. I’m momentarily blinded. I can’t see what’s in front of me… the pictures are more real. I realise I’m sobbing. I realise it. I did not know when I started crying.
I look down trying to figure if I’m bleeding, if there’s some physical manifestation of the hurt. I see that my hands are over the place where my heart is. I realise that had my involuntary reflexes not been in the way, I would have taken it out to see why it hurt so. To abate the pain a little. But I can’t.
The images are rushing faster now. I feel almost giddy. I try to keep one consistent Face in those memories still. Just to look at those eyes. And I know it shouldn’t but the Face makes me feel a little better. It shouldn’t. The Face did this. The Face causes me the pain.
I realise I haven’t forgiven. I haven’t forgotten. And worse, I don’t hate. Not yet.
And before I can stop myself, it slips out.
“Why”.

Eternal Politeness of the Blogger’s Rhyme.

Friend: Hey! How’re you doing?
Self: Great! You?
*Silence*

Self: Hello! I heard the good news! Congrats!
*Awkward Silence*

I don’t know about you’ll but this happens to me. A lot.
I became active on the social media around the time I was eighteen and within a few short, embarrassing months I realised that its ‘cool’ to not reply to people. Ignore posts and messages because you are too busy living an ‘actual life’.
Theatres urge patrons to switch off their mobile phones when a movie or play begins. (Presuming but hopefully!) We have all been taught to listen to people and speak when they have said their piece. I was under the impression that these are the building blocks of Social Interactions.
Apparently not.

I had this friend in college, Sally. Now Sally is unbelievably beautiful and has a number of admirers of all genders. To top it she has a husky voice that has the said admirers in a tizzy. She’s made an excellent P.R when the occasion (Read when She saw fit) demanded it. But if you were someone who wasn’t Sally’s close friend or were just a class mate as opposed to her B.F.F and she had nothing to gain by interacting with you, even greeting her would be a silly and pointless thing to do. Something my good friend Ashley and I learnt the super awkward way.

Ashley: Hi Sally!
Self: Hey! Long Time!
Sally: *Blink*

How Sally and I became friends is really a story for another post, but the bottom line is that her rudeness was not only acceptable but also a mark of regal condescension. It gave her a certain power and enigma and made her someone the masses liked.
Economics 101 really.
You hold back supply; the demand will increase.
You withhold courtesy; People work to earn it.

Twist V/S World.
0-1

So now I knew that the key to a good social standing was to be miserly about one’s admiration and politeness. People seem to like those that are not good to them. And I want to be liked.
I learnt indifference from the classic experiences; the Right of Passage for everybody growing up into adulthood and it took me roughly seven years to do so. My Teachers ranged from the standard Bitch-Brigade at College to Sally the Rude, right down to my ultimate-nightmare of a boyfriend. My experiences with them made me understand the intricacies of rudeness and how to optimise it. To be indifferent enough to keep a tantalising distance but not rude enough to drive them away.

Blog.

As I mentioned in my post So now what… ?, when I decided to have a Blog of my own, I was skeptical for a lot of reasons. One of them being my readers’ opinions (Or lack of). I mean, why would I voluntarily put my thoughts and opinions on a public platform for people to ignore? Didn’t Sally and the rest teach me how to not spend time and energy on random posts and bother with people’s’ opinions unless I have an agenda?

Imagine my surprise when this post happened to be one of the first I read on WordPress. Now it was possible that it was only Gunmetal Geisha‘s opinion about Blogging and manners and was one of a kind. But when I liked something or commented somewhere, people I don’t know would reply back if only to say thank you. Bloggers actually read my comment, replied and in some cases re-directed me to sites and posts they thought might interest me. Can you believe it? Of course you can! You’re probably a Blogger!
I guess it makes sense because… well, why have a Blog if you’re going to ignore people’s thoughts about it? But then why have a ‘Social’ Network if you’re going to be stoic and unresponsive?
I’m new to this world so maybe I haven’t seen the ugly yet but I was expecting to be trashed. Instead I find people, successful Bloggers no less, who take the time out to personally reply to every comment. There seems to be so much appreciation all around. There are debates, not arguments. There are ideas not preachings. There is humour not offence.

I follow this Blogger named Harsh Reality, who says in his ‘About’ Section that his,

“..goal with this blog is to offend everyone in the world at least once with my words… so no one has a reason to have a heightened sense of themselves. We are all ignorant, we are all found wanting, we are all bad people sometimes.”

Harsh indeed. But you write him a comment or even a disagreement and like all the amazing people here, he’s polite as ever.

One Tough Cookie.

The world is as it always was. Dealing with ego, chauvinism and power struggle all day, I would return to mindless television to see trashed versions of the same thing. Now I come back home and look forward to intelligence with a heart. Creative people who do have an ‘actual life’ they’re leading but who are also bothering to be polite to the unknown Twisted girl.
I have a renewed faith in humanity and a sense of Loyalty to the girl I was. The girl who was polite. The Girl who expressed without an agenda.

The girl who now believes in the Eternal Politeness of the Blogger’s Rhyme.

Creamy Hot Chocolate and Choco-Nuts Pops

This post makes me think of my Sister from another Mother, Dee. She whips up delicious things in her kitchenette as well and chocolate is at the core of all that is her. She’s married now and has moved away and I miss her. Wonder what reminds her of me?

Details, naturally

One cold day, about twenty-eight years ago, my mother entered a coffee shop in Italy and ordered a hot chocolate. It was the first time she ordered one in Italy, since she had just moved there with little Casper, my brother. What she got surprised her; the cup was hot and steaming, but this was not hot chocolate, she thought. The consistency of whatever they had just served her was thick and almost not liquid anymore; it looked creamy and thick at the point she thought it was some sort of pudding.

Soon enough she realized that was just how the Italian hot chocolate is, and even sooner, just after taking the first sip, she had realized it was delicious.

Years went by and that same hot chocolate became a staple in our pantry during the cold winters. Basically it was what got us through the winter. One cup and…

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The Over-Rated.

So I’m probably going to receive a lot of flak for this post and but I guess I need to put it out there. There are a couple of things in the world of art, music, theatre and books that I think are over-rated. Grossly over-rated. The following cover the books and music part of the rant.

The Catcher in the Rye; Author: J.D Salinger

I love that Salinger was not pretentious about the book. No back cover, Recommendations, Forwards or explanations.

Like most people, I’d heard of the book described as an American classic with comparisons (In terms of Impact) to To Kill a Mockingbird.

I just. Don’t. See it.

Maybe it was about Reading between the Lines. If so, then I agree with the Fans because I’ve obviously missed something. But if the book is truly about a teenager walking through Pennsylvania for two days then I’m sorry to say there are books and stories that seem to speak more and better.

I admit I like Holden Caulfield. Nice guy and all. Courteous and despite being angst ridden he’s helpful and actually cares. So maybe I wouldn’t mind, hell I would probably be really interested in knowing about his two-day adventure with run-ins with Hookers and drugs after a frustrating and overall stifling school life. But do I really want to read 214 pages for it?

The conversational style of writing is probably it’s best feature but I suspect the entire point of even that was to bring Holden to life and make him more believable and consequently more endearing. It did make him more believable but as I mentioned I would prefer to have heard the story than read it.

In Parallel:

I thought there were several parallels in the book to scenes from the movie Remember Me (2010). The Book that seemed to be along the same lines was, Perks of being a Wallflower; Author: Stephen Chbosky.

I enjoyed both more that Catcher in the Rye. I’m sorry Mr. Salinger!

The Beatles

I once called them ‘No-good Sunshine Boys’.

I love this picture. A photographic classic surely?

I fear I’m going to be lynched for this but really, why are they such favourites? There have been several popular bands and I admit some of their music is really good but The Beatles are now a synonym for Greatness. Why?

I must confess that I had heard of The Beatles before having listened to their music and even then I heard a cover of the John Lennon classic Imagine before the Original. The cover I refer to, a personal favourite of mine, has been performed by A Perfect Circle. So my first impression of the song was a clever mock at the selfishness of humanity with the final passage challenging us to be better people. I loved it. Its possible I attributed more meaning to it than even they intended but the music was unbelievable. When I listened to the original however, I could only hear (What I would later realise was) a repetitive sway beat perfected by The Beatles in every song.

Having said that I do have some personal Beatles/Lennon favourites like Eleanor Rigby, While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Within You Without you, Across the Universe.

Also, they have consistently above-average lyrics. But still. Meh.

The Alchemist; Author: Paolo Coelho 

The Cover Art was more interesting that the content within. Oh Well.

The thing is I enjoy books on spirituality. So when I heard of a book describing a shepherd’s journey to find life’s meaning, I was as excited as only a Book-Hook (My personal Collective noun for voracious readers) can be. I read the book at top speed trying to get to the part where I would understand Coelho’s intent with it all. But the book ended before I could learn it. I was really embarrassed by this time. I was sure I didn’t get the deeper meaning and whenever someone mentioned their admiration of the book I ad-libbed and shuffled whilst attempting to change the topic of conversation. About two years later I finally found someone I considered a close friend (So I needn’t worry about sounding dim) who was interested in Spirituality (So I could be sure they got the specific point of the book) and was well read enough to have a perspective about The Alchemist beyond those of a Wannabe-Book-Hook (One who exclusively reads Bestsellers and claims to be a voracious reader to sound smart) and came face-to-face with the truth.

The lesson of the shepherd in the book was ‘Follow your Heart’.

I felt cheated. As good advice as that was I’m not sure an entire journey spanning 166 pages and ending in a Sand-Storm was really required. Oh and while we are at it? I hated Aleph too. Pointless prose. But The Alchemist ‘shook the world’ and I’m still to figure out why.

On an aside, I think I preferred and I can say even loved Eleven Minutes and The Witch of Portobello.

At one point I considered that maybe I take issue with things that have been recommended with a lot of promise and they fall short of my expectations. There are several of those. And then there those that have impressed even after the superlative recommendations and the consequent increase in expectations. Both the Harry Potter (Book) series and spiritual books by Dr. Brian Weiss are testament to that fact that bestsellers and blockbusters can live up to their name and more but the above are those that I have tried to understand and failed to see the lure of.

I would love to hear from you about your thoughts. Even if it is to robustly put me in my place.

Welcome to ‘Twist’

About ‘Twist’

The ‘About Me’ sections, anywhere at all, always seemed very loaded to me. I mean, how much do I know about me?

It’s silly I know. It’s just an Introduction to the Online Community– a lot  like Introducing yourself with your name and profession, I guess…. but then when you write, or in this case type it all down, giving my résumé of sorts as an inflexible introduction seems awfully tacky aside from the fact that my lack of comfort with the ‘About Me’ sections is in Social Profiles and those have almost nothing to do with me or the intention of this Blog. This is not to say that those (And this is almost everyone) who have filled their Professions in their Introductions are tacky. It’s just that I don’t view my Profession as an extension of who I think I am, not yet anyway. And I feel that me filling it in would be dishonest and hence tacky.

So you can guess why it took me a week after I activated my Blog, to even write a ‘About Me’ (I filled it in five minutes back). I shall, however, attempt to explain that maybe it’s not ‘About Me’, but About ‘Twist’.

Optimised Anonymity

The reason for this Blog is that in my day-to-day life I’m somebody who gets noticed and not always in a flattering light. This is not to say that I keep rubbing people off the wrong way, although that too happens from time-to-time. It’s just that I have a couple of physical and social characteristics and effects on people, that keep me from being completely secure and confident about myself socially. Twist is my way of lifting the preconceived notions people have of me and presenting things the way they are in my head.

I know Blogs are meant for sharing and I am interested in hearing from you but I’m not sure I’m interested in a creating a ‘Following’.

Twisted, I know.

Information is Power

Now I’m somebody who loves my profession. This is not to say that I’m brilliant at it. Frankly, I don’t know I’m good enough at it yet but at least I know I like it. My problem is that I don’t think I want my Profession to have any bearing on how people view me. If you, Reader, get to know what I do you will, like me and everybody else, paint a picture and put me in its foreground. That goes for me sharing any obvious detail about me actually. So I have tried to minimise the details to the bare minimum. Just enough to foster dialogue but not enough to cloud judgement. No country details, no ethnicity, race or any other identifying features. Your guesses could be varied and I shall derive my purpose by your unadulterated views.

I figure that I have taken this to the extreme as well as none of my friends know that I have a blog. And I’m not sure I’m interested in telling them just yet. In fact, I doubt I’ll ever tell them. Because the moment I do, I’ll begin to ‘socialize’ even here and that is something I do not want to do.

Journal

My Rambles are quite literally that. Rambles. I type as I think, when I can’t make sense of something. I turn to it when I’m overwhelmed. And, for once, I’m going to indulge myself and write as I please, the way I please, when I please. Years later, hopefully my mind won’t be in a spiral Twisting its way in, like it is now and I’ll look back and learn a thing or two about me. So in that sense I guess, this is a Journal.

So Reader, I am Twist, this is my private world and I welcome you to it.

The Obsession.

I need to rewind a bit to explain how I, the epitome of sanity (Hah!) went from being too-exhausted-to-think to Happily-Obsessed. I had come back from work and had switched on the television to a channel that showed a promotional advert of Love and Other Drugs that was to be aired on the following weekend. Now I’m an unabashed lover of Love Stories and cliché Rom-Coms and don’t seem to distinguish the good from the mediocre in the genre till the time I have an eye candy to gorge.

The week ended in its eventuality and the only thing I really could look forward to was Love and Other Drugs. I must mention here that at this time I was in a relationship with my then boyfriend of four and three-quarter years, Abe. As the movie progressed I couldn’t help but feel that Jake Gyllenhaal and my Abe resembled quite a bit. I told him so and he responded with an equivalent of, ‘If you say so’ but I couldn’t shake the feeling so I downloaded a picture on my trusted Smart phone and texted it to him. He blandly refuted the resemblance and as far as anyone knew that was the end of that.

The Object of my Obsession

Indeed.

I believe Jake Gyllenhaal wooed me. And I can explain how. Slowly yet (Obviously) surely, I began to find Jake Gyllenhaal everywhere. In newspapers, on Google ‘News’, in the sudden interest of T.V channels in his body of work (What’s with repeating a movie telecast twenty times after the first time calling it a ‘Premier’ every time?). I realised that here is a gorgeous boy who I’ve wronged by not paying as much attention to as he deserved. So I did the first thing any Fan Girl would do. I downloaded the most Critically acclaimed movie of the To-be-Object of my obsession.

For the uninitiated, the reason it’s the most Critically acclaimed movie in the stead of a ‘Blockbuster’ is that when you know your obsession is likely to spill over in general conversations, you can skirt it with talk of Oscar buzz, deserved wins and unfair losses, all the while feeling excessively gratified about self’s undeniable good choice.

I had first heard of Brokeback Mountain when it’s Oscar nominations had been announced and apart from some phrases along the lines of ‘Gay Cowboy Movie’ & ‘Graphic Sex Scenes’ being flung about, I heard nothing interesting. It sounded preachy and I was pro-Gay enough to not need another movie fiesta teaching me to respect Homosexuals. Also, I was fifteen then and knew enough about Oscars to know that anything that was artistically stoic enough to warrant realistic and explicit sex scenes, more often than not, created flutter with those wonderful people at the Academy and that never piqued my interest. I should mention however that I don’t think I was wrong to think so. The reason being that I was too young to even begin to understand or fathom the intent of Ang Lee or the scope of the movie.

So I watched Brokeback Mountain with the bigger intent of feasting my eyes on Jake ‘Gorgeous’ Gyllenhaal. What I never expected was that by the end of the two hours or so playtime, I would retract my reasons to avoid the movie and re-assign those that made me watch it. What I couldn’t have predicted was that when the movie ended I wouldn’t be thinking of homosexuality or men or women for that matter.

Maybe it has a lot to do with the fact that I’m a die-hard fan of unrequited love. Or maybe because a few short months after I watched the movie first, I broke up with (My boyfriend of five years by that time) Abe, But I was hooked.

The Recap: The Jack before Jack

Poker Face

Around the age of ten everybody is like a new Spring shoot poking its head out of the ground of childhood into the vibrant and sudden vivid world of Pre Teen. Your body is changing and your gender, which until that time was just something you were told about, begins to dawn on you with new meaning. At this tender age I first glimpsed the gorgeous blonde head of Leonardo DiCaprio in his introductory scene as Jack Dawson where he’s on the verge of winning his,

“… ticket on Titanic at a lucky hand of poker . . . . a very lucky hand.”

I can safely say that in those few moments my Teens announced itself.

You may laugh and if I were in your place I would’ve too but it was love of the purest kind. It was so big, so very overwhelming that till three years after, I hadn’t admitted it to anybody. I hid it. I was embarrassed and elated in equal measure.

Those were the days of Dial-Up Internet and I couldn’t afford to let free my ardent admiration by Celeb stalking darling Leo. So I did the next best thing. I scouted for him in Newspapers. Any and every article or photograph I found was a Quanta of pure energy, love and joy. And I was religious about every piece of information on Leonardo DiCaprio that the world of news could throw at me.

Gyllenhaal-itis

When Jake happened, I was forced to think that maybe that moment was more permanent than the Phase it was supposed to be. Dawson had merely transformed into Twist. Not grown up. I have to admit however that while there was intense admiration and awe bordering on Hero Worship for Leo, there seemed to be an inexplicable recognition with Jake.

Of course, I feel like I’m worse today than I was at ten. There was merit to the idea of a Celebrity-Fixation at ten. But as a grown-up? It’s mental deceleration! And I can prove it to you by telling you that I managed to watch Prince of Persia: Sands of Time (Blanch) three times, three times on a Sunday! Who does that? I hadn’t been remotely interested when it had released and for good reason but to watch it repeatedly just to ogle at Jake? Really?

That night as I went to sleep dreading the monster that is Monday, I admitted to myself that I was suffering from an acute case of the Gyllenhaal-itis.

Transference

At times of serious trouble it is essential for me to consult my Doctor-of-all-Maladies, Dee. Dr. Dee was of the opinion that I had somehow transferred my hurt and channelled it into the selfless vent that Obsession is. My sub-conscious was protecting my mind which was not ready to deal with the acute pain of my break-up with my long-term boyfriend and unofficial fiancé. Maybe. But somehow the thought did not make me feel better. I wanted Jake so bad!

Note to Jacob Benjamin Gyllenhaal

If I’m really that lucky, someday I’ll get to meet you. But I’ll never tell you that this Blog is mine.