Say Crack Again
Wednesday, October 07, 2015
Truly, there's nothing more sadder than admitting the fact you've failed at something. I've failed at this research I've been pursuing.
I have been relentlessly pursuing the field and following the people who're making this field as we are moving along. I've given up all the passions, personal pursuits, bass playing, any form of indulgence, and given into casual racist remarks about my community, being turned down/ignored on hourly basis by all my subjects. I don't remember the last time I went out for half an hour without having ten to-do items in my head. Insomnia is a direct result of counting down things to do. I don't recall the last time I sat down with a feeling of accomplishment. I'm not even in Bombay yet and my resilience is on display.
For the last couple of months, I've been bottling this aggression within me. Between the state and the reforms, between interpersonal relationships and my commitment towards them, between being the person I was and who I'm forced to be, between my family and my daily business, it's all come to a point where the domino will fall, all of them one after the other. I stayed awfully uncomfortable all day, which came to me in a hazy memory of being stuck in a room in my dream this morning. I was trying to evacuate, but it was completely claustrophobic, with only counters and vending machines to buy refreshments. It was a sickening experience, in hindsight. It all came back to me when a subject, who was playing host at a show tonight somewhere in Delhi, decided to crack joke about fire exits. I've been way more uncomfortable since then.
That part of the evening involved three crucial figures who're the crux of my three chapters of the dissertation. By some odd sort of magic, they came together and at a fraction of a cost of what each of these events cost in general. I feel I bring the lack of monetary resources part a lot more now than ever, but you only begin to realize this when you've not received your stipend for months and are in a limbo of not being able to do anything without asking your parents for it. Beyond a certain age mark, it is unhealthy. It's been a year minimum since I crossed that alarming age mark. It's frustrating to chase people for bytes, for work, for money and for something as basic as communication.
They say a crack allows the light to pass through and hence it shines. I've cracked and there's no light to pass. We have some garbage disposal issue in our hands, now.
I have been relentlessly pursuing the field and following the people who're making this field as we are moving along. I've given up all the passions, personal pursuits, bass playing, any form of indulgence, and given into casual racist remarks about my community, being turned down/ignored on hourly basis by all my subjects. I don't remember the last time I went out for half an hour without having ten to-do items in my head. Insomnia is a direct result of counting down things to do. I don't recall the last time I sat down with a feeling of accomplishment. I'm not even in Bombay yet and my resilience is on display.
For the last couple of months, I've been bottling this aggression within me. Between the state and the reforms, between interpersonal relationships and my commitment towards them, between being the person I was and who I'm forced to be, between my family and my daily business, it's all come to a point where the domino will fall, all of them one after the other. I stayed awfully uncomfortable all day, which came to me in a hazy memory of being stuck in a room in my dream this morning. I was trying to evacuate, but it was completely claustrophobic, with only counters and vending machines to buy refreshments. It was a sickening experience, in hindsight. It all came back to me when a subject, who was playing host at a show tonight somewhere in Delhi, decided to crack joke about fire exits. I've been way more uncomfortable since then.
That part of the evening involved three crucial figures who're the crux of my three chapters of the dissertation. By some odd sort of magic, they came together and at a fraction of a cost of what each of these events cost in general. I feel I bring the lack of monetary resources part a lot more now than ever, but you only begin to realize this when you've not received your stipend for months and are in a limbo of not being able to do anything without asking your parents for it. Beyond a certain age mark, it is unhealthy. It's been a year minimum since I crossed that alarming age mark. It's frustrating to chase people for bytes, for work, for money and for something as basic as communication.
They say a crack allows the light to pass through and hence it shines. I've cracked and there's no light to pass. We have some garbage disposal issue in our hands, now.
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