Growing up

After a long and shivering phone conversation (I was shivering, because it was cold outside at 2.30 a.m.) my good bud K and I decided that we are finally adults now and that, it totally sucks sometimes.

We also decided that we like to make films the best, and that, the high of making one is so addictive that you cannot help but crave for it on days of nothing.

I decided that he is still a bit of a poet and needs to say bye to Cal, at least for now, because it is time.

Last year, in Delhi, when it was about this cold, or a little colder, I had a superbly lonely epiphany. And I'm so glad that it happened. And in Cal, for my two unemployed months, it happened again. Can you keep having them epiphanies? I don't know. Must check the Abrahm's Literary Terms book. Either way, K had his own coming-of-age story, which was kind of waiting to happen anyway. Good, good.

I have left this job mentally and emotionally, but the final act is pending. Once I do, it's going to be quite random again. There's only that much lipstick you can put on a pig.

I'm irritated. I'm sitting here in office, blogging. I would work, IF there was any work to do. I can't sugercoat this. My. Job. Sucks.
This Airtel chick just called up about bills and stuff (the office bills - and our neighbouring office, not even ours) and obviously, I just didn't feel like explaining all that much, so I said no-one's here (which is true) and that I don't work here (which I wish was true). So this bitch (I mean, really, she was one), was like, "So, why you pick up the phone Miss? Huh?" And all this while, I've been polite (because hey, she's just doing her job and shit, right?), but when she says that, I want to totally unleash my inner demon and annihilate her, chop her up into ten thousand pieces and feed her to the sharks. Okay, maybe that's too much, but you know - I just feel this searing rage and I really need to give it back to her. So I do. And I'm actually a little kicked about how calm I sounded, and how much more polite I got. Controlled rage totally rocks.
So, anyway, she's back to her robotic customer service jargon, after I tell her in a sad polite hush, "There's really no need to be so rude" and I kind of semi-slam the phone (hey, I'm only human) because I cannot hear people say things, just because they have to say things.
Anyway, this was much more exciting 10 minutes ago.
Last night, I went to this pub with ear deafening music with a girlfriend, and considering my get up (T-shirt, jeans, floaters and a very old purple hoodie) and my short hair, and my petite little friend, next to whom I felt like Andre the Giant - they MUST have concluded that, we're a lesbian couple. We were trying to decide which one was worse - being mistaken for a lesbian or being mistaken for a pair of single women trying to pick up men. We decided the latter was worse, because being lesbian is totally alright, whereas being desperate isn't. It's like someone saying, Oh you're Punjabi? (no-one has though) when I am Bengali. It's no big deal. Not that Punjabis are lesbians. Okay, this is just getting weird. I shall just stop.