Last night, I dreamed about home. I saw Mom, Dad, the home I grew up in, some old neighbor ladies that seem to appear in many random dreams but don’t say anything. We were standing in the verandah, which is covered by a tin shade, with tall pillars made of wood. The blue paint on the railings was starting to wear off, I don’t remember the last time those railings were painted. The streets made of red bricks were dry, some were broken, some had turned into rounded corners with years of kids cycling around. The small well in front of the house seemed to be deserted. No one needs waters from the well anymore, I guess. I saw some shades of my sister, trying to pick a fight with me. Just like it was when we were kids. It felt like it was a summer afternoon, although, I wasn’t sweating.
I woke up this morning with a lingering feeling to be home. The dream felt as real as can be, and I was right there when Anishka woke me up saying – I don’t want to go to school today.
I stayed with the thoughts of seeing mom and dad, all day. The joy of sleeping in her lap, the excitement in her eyes to make things I love, her occasional agitation with how I keep my hair untidy all the time is something I so dearly miss. Dad is simpler in his expression and the best he can do at showing affection is complain about how mom doesn’t take care of him. That’s his way of saying you are so close I can complain to you about my wife.
There is something about parents that you cannot help but wonder. Well, let me take that back. There is something about parents before the generation X. I don’t think I will ever have the grace that my mom has in her eyes. I am the chauffeur mom who drinks her coffee on the run and drives the kids around while dressing them up and putting the shoes on, and yelling the whole time. And we all know there is no grace in yelling and screaming. I am not going to iron their shirt when they are 15, I am the “go figure it out yourself” mom, the “I am not in the mood to cook, so here’s McDonald’s” mom. And I don’t think even my daughter is going to bother about these things either. She is in the generation that values material more than anything. She is the “If you don’t give me your iPad right now, I am gonna submit a change-of- mom application” kinda kid. And while I continue to live in this drift of two worlds like everyone does, a part of me wants to be like my mom, and my daughter to be like me (god save her). I might have to take that last one back, she is fine the way she is.
So, back to sabbatical, I did some more research on the DSLR. Now, just have to pull the trigger. Sometime over the weekend may be. I read a lot about how to be a writer. Yes, I am considering pursuing it as a part time hobby. Can’t say as a part time job, because, let’s be honest, right now, I suck at writing. Read something today (on http://thoughtcatalog.com )that I found pretty interesting, and kinda proved my concept of why I am blogging.
In his excellent autobiography, animator Chuck Jones talks about his first day at art school. And on his first day, the “mean” professor said this to the class: “You have 200,000 bad drawings inside of you. The sooner you get rid of them, the better it will be for everyone.”
I am on 13. So, if you are reading this blog and hoping for my writing to get better, tough luck. Sorry to disappoint you, I have a long way to go, so do you. Thank you for your patience.
A funny thing happened at Anishka’s school today, which I will talk about later. Let’s just say, a little boy might have a little something for her, which didn’t digest well with me. Funny, but true. Oh, parenting.
Highlight of the day – As I browsed through various blogs today, and some writings on writing, I realized, I like how the British talk. I could tell from some authors that they were British even though there were no pictures or written indications that they were. And with that, I discovered, my favorite British thing is – “So, there’s that”. Imagine Huge Grant saying this in Love actually. Don’t know if he actually did in this movie, but he says that a lot too, and now I know why I love him so much, except off course for his light brownish bluish eyes, and a pair of more than perfect dimples. (Now I know what tonight’s dream is going to be about.)
What I am excited about today – Becoming a writer. Yeah, if nothing else, by end of this sabbatical, I should be able to write better blogs.