i so want to write something but i don't know what to write about. i am worried sick though. my money's all running out. only positive thing is i'm paying half of my loans back. but the thought of the future...it's scary. i somehow managed not to think about it for some time now, but it's creeping on me again these days...it happens whenever i look at my account balance to be exact. and it makes me feel so small, thinking about money all the time. but what can i do? 'a girl has got to eat'! i wish i was young and pretty and single, then i could marry some rich guy and be an intellectual housewife, who takes piano lessons in the morning and entertains all kinds of poets, artists, musicians at her beautifully decorated 'drawing room' in the evening! lol!

one of the bad things about living alone is feeling like crying at the slightest opportunity. so i try to avoid any sad/nostalgic/mellow/depressing books/blogs/movies/songs with all my might. but somehow or other one sneaky incredibly wretched blog/song/movie creeps up into your eyes/ears and there you are, crying your hearts out. and when you start to cry, you are not just crying about the memory that was stirred by the writeup/song...you cry for all the misfortunes that has happened in your life. you go through all the things that has happened to you from time immemorial...and you feed on the misery that your life has bestowed upon you, from time immemorial. and when you are done with that, you ponder upon how you have spent the last one week doing absolutely nothing whiling away the time browsing the internet, and you cry a little more. when that's over you think about how you practically haven't eaten anything from the day before yesterday except munching on some cornflakes this morning just because you didn't feel like moving your lazy ass to cook something, and you shed tears over that too. and you were supposed to clean the room this weekend that ended yesterday. and you were supposed to do the groceries. and you cancelled the meeting with your teacher today. and you don't know what to do about those essays. and you feel like shit. and your future looks so grim. and you are so alone. and nobody loves you. every little thing that somehow or other concerns 'me' is a cause for a celebration of crying! my god, how pathetic can i get!

well, anyways, writing a blog always helps. the crying's finally over. the way it was going on, by now i would have been picturing my life 40 years later and crying over that too. better go sleep now.

birthday banter

birthdays. why do they matter? why do all the people get so excited if they come to know that the day that you've been born is coming up next week? i don't know if it ever mattered to me. i mean, yes it did, if it was my friend's birthday...as i never wanted to be accused of forgetting their birthdays even though i'm sure they'll never remember mine if there wasn't a niece/nephew of theirs born just the day before mine or the day after. to me, my birthday never meant anything. i always feel uncomfortable when people come up to me, be it friends, families or strangers, and wish me a happy birthday...i always hate to be the center of attraction. although i remember one incident when my going-to-be first husband forgot my birthday, and i felt sad. i wonder why. i guess it was because i was surrounded by friends when he turned up and they were expecting a surprise from him, and i knew that they were expecting a surprise from him, and so when it became clear that he had totally forgotten about the day, i felt embarrassed. so that was it, it wasn't sadness. it was embarrassment. i hate to be embarrassed too. i hate a lot of things.

so i decided the main point of getting excited about birthdays is getting presents. and my luck with presents was never very good. my parents always bought a cake, and i wasn't a very big fan of cakes except for admiring how pretty they looked. and for the last couple of years they bought me clothes which being a bit picky, i would never wear. my partners always asked me what i wanted for my birthday days before, and i always thought about what i needed, like a perfume or a pair of shoes or something like that. so it didn't really have the 'present' feel to it. the only birthday present i remember worth keeping was a book, 'gone with the wind'. it was from tuhi. i found the book in a second hand bookstore deep inside the labyrinth of neelkhet used book corner...i went there a few times just to touch it...it was a beautifully bound red-covered old tanned-paged book with a wonderful smell between the pages, which i wanted so much but couldn't afford. i still remember the price. it was 150 taka. so when tuhi asked me what i wanted for my birthday, i didn't have to think twice. she gave me the money and i got the book. and i lost it too. i tend to leave everything that i adore whenever i leave someone or someplace. then i miss them terribly, but it's always too late when i try to recover them. and the presents friends brought me when they came back from somewhere abroad...i don't think they count as presents, as they are like those mass things you bring back because you know you have to give everyone something...well, i myself do that. i mean, well, i went there to travel for god's sake, i don't have time to shop for you people!

anyways, so apart from the expectation of presents, birthdays don't really mean anything. and one of my friends agrees with me. another doesn't though. she likes being special for one day. and she couldn't believe me when i told her over and over that no, i am not sad that everybody forgot about it. i felt comfortable, for once in my life i felt really at ease on the day that i was born 29 years ago. of course there was a mail from my mother wishing me a happy birthday and at the same time telling me if i don't 'deny' my birth, i should call them. and another from my current husband saying he couldn't surprise me this year. well, those were expected. and no, i don't 'deny' my birth, i can't really do that, can i? it's not like i have a choice or anything. but i'm not going to call them anymore. it's not worth it...i'm sure i'll again end up running away...and i don't want them to go through this over and over again. ok, where was i? yeah, feeling special.

yes, it's not like you're special only on your birthday right? i mean if i love you, i won't love you more on your birthday, no i won't. i will wish you on your birthday, just to be sure that you don't accuse me of forgetting your birthday afterwards. and i will buy you a present, because you'll be happy and that's like, the custom. so, why, apart from the presents, is a birthday special to someone? specially if you're turning 29 (though according to your passport you've turned 28, but that's not much of a consolation when you know your original birthyear)? i remember being in a cranky mood all day when i realized i had turned 28 last year. god, 28 was like o.l.d.! and now here i am, 29, happy that there's another year to go before i officially become 30 something. i am getting old. i have lines on my face, half of my hairs have turned grey, i feel tired more often these days...i don't know if it's the age or the tension that i'm in day and night. well, doesn't matter though. getting old is no fun. and if you're getting old and you still don't know what you're gonna do with your life, it's worse.

conclusion: birthdays are bullshit.