33!
The age at which you really really stop caring about what people think about you.
This is me, crazy thoughts, wobbly bits and all.
If you don’t like what you’re seeing... well, too bad.
This year has been all about self care.
The most profitable investment you can make is in yourself.
Property is also v. good they say.
I am amazed by people my age who own multiple houses.
I am also amazed by people my age who are semi-retired/thinking of retirement in the next few years. Planning goals!
I’m not far behind on the planning trend though. I do meal prep and have elaborate to-do lists.
It only seems fitting for this middle-age transition.
Life is a looooooongggg sprint. Priority items. Unresolved tickets. Backlog grooming. Resource allocation.
Life is a looooooonggg meeting. Agendas. Discussion points. Next steps. Quick breaks.
Life is like a looooooongggg document constantly being edited. A few tweaks. Some major rewriting. Some skippable chapters. Refine, refine. Revamp the design.
Life is like a looooooongggg…. you get the picture.
Life is like a long holiday at times, which I can safely say are the best times.
Happiness is an umbrella term for all kinds of complex emotions that we feel.
It’s like our safe zone. We all want to be happy. It’s like we resort to it to escape from all other emotions. Happiness is the sitcom we want to rewatch and rewatch because it’s comfortable and familiar.
But the things that truly change us are way more than just ‘happy’: frustration, grief, exhilaration, passion, desire, guilt.
I have a feeling I might have said something similar in an earlier birthday post.
But I’m 33: I’m allowed to repeat myself.
Two things I am constantly running out of: socks and spoons.
I sent myself flowers this year.
It came with a card that said from Ramya, to Ramya.
A very special kind of gift.
I scorned flowers until a few years ago: I thought it was an extremely uncool thing to gift someone: these plucked and dead things that attracted scary bugs.
A guy getting me flowers would not be appreciated. Roadside pani puri would do the trick.
But now I think flowers are rather pretty. And the bugs less scary.
Ah, how we change and evolve.
I like that word: evolve.
Some wonderful/interesting things I heard this year:
“Always remember: you are not your job. You are bigger and better than what you are at work.” --from an ex-colleague
“Isn’t it just easier to believe that people can be genuinely nice?” --My mom after I told her I couldn’t figure out whether someone was complimenting me or being nasty in some twisted way.
“You keep comparing that to this. Why compare? It's beautiful on its own. Like you’re comparing Scotland to Lakadah. Two different things. Beautiful in their own ways.” --From a friend.
“But wouldn’t it be nice for it to have a little rest?” -- My nephew after I told him that the heart is continuously working/pumping blood.
Some of the best moments from this year was reading to my 5-year old nephew and listening to his questions. What a beautiful mind. And a heart to match!
We played the game of who can make a longer word until we settled on the variations of discombobulator: biscombobulator, kiscombobulator etc. Good times.
Friendships are the most curious of all relationships: there are no rules, no obligations, no templates to follow. Yet the loss of a friendship can be as or more heart-breaking than what society defines as a “break-up”.
Sometimes the damage is just irreparable.
And accepting that is really, really hard.
But, as adults, we will shrug and move on.
We have been around for 3 decades, and that has equipped us to deal with these kinds of situations.
To shrug and move on seems like a widely-accepted solution.
When you're in love it feels like two people are part of the story. When you break up, it feels like the pain is yours alone.
It’s incredible how much of this journey we’re doing in solitude even if we’re surrounded by friends and family.
How much we live in our own individual heads.
How many thoughts we think that nobody else has access to.
Everything is ultimately all about us.
Saved whatsapp messages, starred emails, experiences that are ours and ours alone, stories that only we know, memories that only we recognize.
Nobody else can really know what it’s like to be you.
That should make each one of us feel really powerful.
Or very lonely. However your brain is wired.
(You’re entirely in control of the choice though. Just FYI.)
I’ve heard people say that Vipassanna is well worth the investment. But 10 days of not being able to draw or write or play music sounds really intimidating to me.
I need to find other workarounds to find some inner peace and that.
A good swim and long walks work very well. The occasional cake. Throw in a gobi 65.
I struggle with high expectations. From life, from myself, from people around me. I expect to be amazed. I expect myself to do something amazing.
Next year I will lower my expectations a lot so that I can be amazed without even trying.
People who say they aren’t chasing money are likely to have a reasonable amount already. I might draw comics for the rest of my life. Or write. Or keep creating in some form. Even if nobody reads or cares. I think this irrepressible urge to create and share and having that outlet is what keeps me functioning 'normally'. Space fascinates me, and I think it will be a bit disappointing once we know what’s out there. What’s out there might be really exciting but knowing makes it less exciting.
This year, success has taken on a new definition for me.
I think it’s about loving yourself truly madly deeply.
It’s not at all an easy thing to do.
I’ve always thought acceptance from others was important, but I suppose we should also accept ourselves.
When I was a little kid, a nun/teacher in my convent school asked me: Do you love yourself?
Of course not! I declared, appalled.
I loved my family, my friends, and also Leonardo DiCaprio but surely it was wrong to love yourself.
I had no idea what it meant back then.
To love yourself wholly, complete with your insecurities, fears and safely-kept secrets, is quite an achievement.
When you actually examine the dark recesses of your mind, you wonder how you stay sane.
Staying sane is not entirely without effort.
For some people, it can take an excruciating amount of effort on a daily basis.
I sometimes feel like life is so very limiting. But it’s also so very expansive and limitless.
I think it being content means you’re happy with the little things but not to the extent at which you start being complacent.
A sentence that I think makes you sound like an adult more than any other: “It is what it is.” Shrug and say it in response to most anything and you’ll sound serious and enlightened.
You’ll sound mature. Fully in control. I’ve carefully observed my friends over the last couple of years and I conclude this from my very reliable research.
I urge you all to try it.
I spent most of my twenties trying to figure life out.
I’ve spent a lot of the last few years overthinking and overanalyzing and trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe.
I still struggle to find my purpose.
I’ve always assumed that I’d eventually figure it out.
But I am now starting to suspect that there’s not much to figure out. There is no mystery waiting to be answered, no big secret waiting to be discovered.
I’m not sure whether that’s disappointing or elating.
Oh well.
It is what it is.
So this is me, crazy thoughts, wobbly bits and all.
Off to welcome 33, and another year of surprises and Great Big Unknowns.
Tune in same time, next year!
