#now watch me vague post about this on my close friends insta stories looking for human connection only to be ignored as usual

[noianoranoia]

imagine you are cranky and sad and not even hungry when you come home from work but are still forced to sit at the table with your parents and then get roped into the umpteenth discussion about how your mother is controlling and constantly unsatisfied with how her children are trying to live their life and predictably end up welling up after 1h of trying to deconstruct her dangerous and hurtful viewpoint because she told you you clearly have issues because you have no friends and she knows this has been a fucking sore point for you for your whole life and you know all of this will be wasted breath because she will never change the way she sees the world and you will always be the one paying for it. that's how my night is going

[karisomk]

Professor Tenoch AU

This is just humor.

"Bro, I don't know why you're bugging right now. Just ask for a extension. Professor Tenoch is really nice."

Your eyes flickered close while you rubbed your forehead and neck gently, trying to do anything to cease the hangover. Placing the cold bottle of gingerale to your forehead, you shook your head in response.

"Noooo...I just can't. I gotta take the loss on this assignment. I have to, I can't lie to him when he looks at me. Sometimes I just feel like he knows. Like last time, when I told him I was having internet issues but we ended up just binging a show on Netflix."

Your friend chuckles softly, "Hey thats on you. I told you to stop posting everything but you just had to show off your pajamas that day and rant about HER. You gotta change your view settings, girl."

You snorted in response and rolled your eyes, but you bite your bottom lip. "Besides I think this time... he might of saw our insta story from last night."

"That video of you with your mouth open drinking Sake from that squirt bottle with Chef?"

Your friend bursted out laughing and shook your shoulder, you grew even more embrassed.

"It's not funny-!"

This only made your friend laugh harder before she tried catching her breath.

"Listen, you're a adult. So what? I mean I guess I would be kinda mortified too, if my professor saw me open mouth chugging sake from a squirt bottle with a hibachi chef who was amazed you didn't spill any and dranked it all. You had the chef shook, more so when you licked your lips afterwards."

"Shush! Why are you so loud?!" You huffed at her.

"You're only overthinking about cause you think Professor Tenoch is fine. I wonder has he figured out some of your vague horny posting is about him." Your friend bluntly pointed out while she batted her eyes.

"You are still so loud right now! Friend, you gotta lie for me. Please tell him I got sick or something. Something!" You whined. Your friend simply side-eyed you while crossing her arms over her chest, sucking her teeth in response. "Oh please, like he'll listen to me anyway. All you gotta do is go in there and give him those sad eyes you do all the time when you're nervous about your grade. He'll listen." "I- I do not do that. But please don't leave me!" You watch your friend scurry away even while you huff, she only laughs some more in response.

"And that's why your laugh sounds like an empty spray bottle!" You yelled after her. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ You procrastinated about seeing Professor Tenoch after your classes, even avoiding his gaze while you were in his class. Those light brown eyes made your heart flutter, but always made you spill the truth to him. Those disappointed looks from him always hurt more than seeing him slightly annoyed. With a slow exhale, you knocked on his classroom door a hour before it was time for him to leave. "Yes, come in." You peak in with a sheepish grin, "Hey, Professor Tenoch. I.. wanted to speak to you." He flashed a small smile and beckoned you to come in, "Well we still have some time and I wanted to ask you if everything was okay? You looked very tired in class today."

You nodded at first, taking a seat across from his desk, "Everything is fine just wasn't feeling too well today. I-I wanted to ask you if I could talk about the assignment that was due today." "Mhm, what about it?" Your stomach fluttered and your chest burned from being nervous, willing yourself to lie on the spot. You didn't look him recognizing that tone, so you kept your gaze elsewhere. His hands or his hair while you spoke. "I-welll uh. See, I lost my hard drive stick yesterday with all my assignments and I tried looking to see if I had any other backups for it in my email drive on my computer. And it turns out that my cat somehow stole my harddrive stick." "So its very damaged. I was wondering if I could have a few days at least for an extension?" You blurted out. When you finally did look up at him, it was hard to keep a straight face at the way Tenoch held his chin. His slight raised brows and those brown eyes that just saw threw you. Your mouth was going dry and your heart was thumping wildly in your chest. You were a bad liar. A terrible liar. The long silence made things worst and for a second you were about to apologize and just blurt out the truth. But when Tenoch sighed and tapped his pen lightly on the desk, "Fine. Three days. Three. You can turn in your work then. " Your eyes lit up at him buying your terrible excuse and you shot up to your feet. "Thank you! I swear I have it done in three days maybe even two! You are the best!" you beamed. Only running around the desk to hug him lightly, "Alright, alright now go. " he chuckled. Moving to grab your bag and you moved to leave the classroom waving goodbye to him. "Oh and (insert name). " Tenoch said while raising to his feet, and grabbing his own bag. "I didn't know you liked Sake like that." Tenoch flashed a smile and laughed softly when you began to stammer loudly.

[11toe11-blog]

Baal ki Khaal ~ Skin the Hair

Much happened. Well. Happenings were not much in the outer realms but conversations. Wrestles. 

Anger flung and received and flung right back. As valid counter points. 

Anger flung and received and passed on. to plates.

Hair cuts, that had nothing to lose because they were on their way to a shave.

Lets keep quiet for a few days. 

And a newspaper in print. A lock down extension. Resting lazing squirrel, ambling away when a friend visits and the woodpecker taking the couch. The corner of the tree felt like the laze zone or the park bench.

I thought there would be so much to write about yesterday. Nothing much other than the haircuts, and the image of the trees, and sharing measurements with mom with the big Homelite matchbox as the yardstick, planning to start stitching lessons with mom starting thursday, and long conversation with S. And in the long wrestle that spanned weeks many, something of a comprehension of each other however elusive to attempts at articulation.

I catch a glimpse of my own bias and victimhood tape, projecting reprojecting on the other. Of Course and the other’s projection on me. Conversation on mental health. And responsibility. Important conversations, sure. But cannot happen unless we mutually reach a moment in time. Otherwise it's preaching, one to the other. Or pleading.

And like that yesterday went. 40 degree R announces now. 

___

Today starts.

Body. stretches. Observer. 

Mind going on playing in loop the images from films and clips and virtual news and people. Notice the observer. 

Can I watch the watchman? More profound words were never spoken, again and again in different ways. Can one watch the watch-man?

Can one watch the time-man?

Identities. Association. Disassociation.

A dancer stretching out, working on the split, stretches the psoas and pouring out memories. Identities stored in there. (Gesture of the menstruating woman with open stretched crouching core- has much story to tell, i hear)

Two people attempting suicide, with only one slot available at the moment in deadlands, arguing who needs to be successful.

Memories of a blue colour top, a hand me down from a cousin, lasted almost a decade and past a marriage, with me. Marriage far briefer than the blue beautiful top that was distinctly european in its sleeves and neck. The friendship that continued out of the marriage vaguely trails as the memory of a person.

Identities Disassociation. Maybe one of the outcomes of trauma that points an expereincer of trauma onto the path of finding the Source, what is loosely called spiritual, or deep meaning making, is possibly the experience of the observer. In deep pain, one tends to disassociate.  Becomes at some level aware of the presence of the state of observation, ie truth ie deep meaning. And then embarks unknowingly on that journey as if having picked up a bread crumb trail.

Identities. Disassociation. For an actor that is possibly the main part of the skill building / training. Finding the ability to identify with, empathize with , step into the shoes of any character. And at the same time the ability to leave, disassociate with the identity once the role or exploration is over. Where things get very tricky, however is when we take this exercise that requires immense ability of observation and energy, into something casual. Not knowing how the back end of all this programming and deprogramming works.

Any identification can end up sticking, deep. Blurring the line between the self and the archetype evoked by such an identification. And the archetype rides out of the deep seas on the back of that identification, and spilling into life.

Any disassociation can end up in numbing out, a reverse identification. A fear of identifying with anything on account of the pain. Inability to empathise, associate, relate.

Koodu vittu koodu maral vidya. Usually referred to a shaman leaving his body to inhabit the body or form of another person or animal or being. But the very basics of which is what i suppose the actor performs in the mind scape.

Folk. Classical. Such labels for certain stages. Certain natures of mind.

The lotus flower, the petals opening in mudra is an experience. A very personal experience of opening, taking many weeks, or years to discover. As the meridians are stretched and opened and blocks released. In the body and in life. One gesture learnt is such a lived experience. 

Bansi Kaul spoke of the folk performer who could simply and easily improvise and associate with other performers. His trick according to him, as shared with Kaul is, the repertoire of gestures and songs and walks and all that he learnt from his father over time. So he pulls them out when he feels the need for that particular one, instinctively. This is language no? How we use words? Hence we associate and improvise with others in conversation. 

I wondered this morning of the richness of experience offered by each of the gestures. Richness of embodying that gesture, which holds so many layers within in. Whichever stream i am trained in or not. A human body stretching out its fingers in certain angles, creating a certain effect particular to that body and for that bodymind. 

A quote somewhere said - even if we all did the same exercises and training and ate the same things we will all still be different. Like no two mango trees are the same. No two mangoes of the same treee are the same. No two sides of the same mango taste the same. 

 I begin to, just about begin to understand language and meaning making. That too is too much to say at this point. But yea, i am not as unaware of it as i was yesterday. 

Why bother with taking the skin out of the each hair strand ? baal ki khaal? It's not so much about the baal or the khaal as much as it is about the process of understanding how all this works together. If. If one is to make a baal. But baal grows simply, without me having to make anything. And that's true. That's a stumper. Like something Ramana would say. Be still.  I suppose i am not yet still, so while i wait for that i'll fiddle with the baal.

I am pleased that the haircut of earlier threaded into the baal now. BUt exercise and body work long procrastinated waits. Do i want to show up? Yes. I am ready and oiled and bandaged and all that. But the heaviness , the womb of inertia sending up gentle lulls to my eyelids are soothing, suggesting that it's ok.. Just stay here. Keep typing into the screen. Something or the other will come and you will feel satisfied here also. 

How about looking into that suggestion of VV that he was apparently offered by AV who was offered this by RR, the behavioral scientist. To mythify one story.

The idea quite struck me when he suggested it, on hearing my return gift of my journey in response to his story of his theatre journey. It offers a fundamental shift of perspective, otherwise one is constantly trying to fit the present story into the frame of the myth, shove it all into the shoe.

This suggestion is to make a whole new shoe. With the caveat that once you write a line, you will or delete it. Hmm. That doesn't feel too difficult. Very rarely does backspace feature in this workspace except for spelling correstions.

I noticed somewhere today that when a certain emotional palette / archetype is alive, it becomes the basis of identification with whatever comes one's way. I had sensed the envy alive in me. And while watching the movie - the associations where envy was alive among characters or within the makeup of a character, kept playing back in some way. The pervert was particularly disturbing. 

Or while scrolling insta - a person whom one identifieses with, for having a certain similarity of thought or political position or  whatever, is associated with on the basis of envy. Acquiring tones of aspirational. Unconsciously maybe wanting to be where they are, be who they are, emulating their manner, attire, attitude. 

In my case i experienced it when i came across the insta profiles of GM and RK. Women. From kerala. Performers, dancers, film makers taking theri space and living it. Somewhere that's a point of identification for me, i see. And then its from the lens of envy that the rest of it plays out, stemming from this identification - aspiration, motivation ie - action.

I suppose if one has the capacity for action - then there is room for transformation of this envy, if a wider perspective is available. 

But in the event of not enough energy for action - one plummets into self loathing and deeper insecurities and depressions.

Because i see them as separate from me. If i were to place the hypothesis of the Unified self here- I am not separate from the other. So my envy of them, is an envy of my self. 

I am jealous of myself. 

What madness.

I can imagine a scene in which this person afflicted with envy - is envious of her own self in the mirror. Is envious of herself in the future. Is envious of her child self.  Tremenous dramatic potential. Shoe-rpanaka Lands not very far from Karna and Duryodhana.  This is a solid and interesting enough thread to take onto the floor now.

Any reflection of existing reality, in part, is a reflection of insanity. ONly when the reflection and reflector is vast enough to hold the totality, can sanity be reflected. 

I understand R a lil more. 

Can i explore this - with a vasness. Can i at the same time explore this at its depths.

___

 I entered not for power. I entered for insight and wisdom and illumination for myself and the whole. Guide me so that i don't lose my way, with the light and gems you offer so generously. I leave closing the door gently behind me. Holding with me what is not mine alone but belonging to the whole. May I always remember the whole. 

__

Do i need to spell check and autocorrects before posting this? I wonder.

[dracoluciusmalfoywrites]

10/06, Saturday morning. The day after #evamohnharbirstag.  Waking up with a hangover was something that Eva was long used to. The light, but pounding headache, the dry throat and the disoriented feeling were all familiar ground. It was the reason why she had put down a glass of water at her nightstand that midday before she left to Chris’, where the party would be. She hadn’t been able to believe it that Chris and the other girls were actually throwing her a party, but it had happened. The headache, as well as how happy she was now, was proof of that.

She reached over for the glass and emptied it first before she took her phone from the nightstand as well. Opening Instagram, she first saw the photo that Chris posted with the hashtag ‘evamohnharbirstag’ and with the caption ‘Spotted’. The photo was taken in Chris’ backyard and was from herself sitting on Christoffer’s lap. They had their arms over around another and their heads were pressed together. From what it looked like, they both had something to drink.

It wasn’t quite reminiscent of the other picture that Chris had taken and posted on Instagram from Chris and her. The picture had been taken at the Kosegruppa Christmas celebration to which Eva had invited Chris. Chris was in front of the frame and he could be seen from the side. She was standing behind him and they were both laughing.

The difference between the two pictures was obvious. The older one was vague; it seemed like they were shy about having their photo taken. The new one was clear and both Chris and her had posed for the picture. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what they were doing before the picture was taken and what they continued to do afterwards.

Her own Instagram story, too, told the tale of a boy that showed up at her birthday party late and made it even better. Eskild was on there, dancing and just generally being drunk, as well as Linn, who Eva was sure would be hangover for days after the party. And then there was the occasional shot of Chris. At the end of the story Eskild, Chris and her were singing JB’s Somebody to Love together and Chris and her couldn’t take their eyes off of one another.

She ignored the notifications of messages, specifically the girls’ group chat as well as some messages from Jonas and Isak and laid her phone back down. As her head hit the pillow again, someone beside her started to move and seconds later Chris emerged from a pile of sheets. He grinned at her. “Hey birthday girl.”

“Hi,” she mumbled in a reply. She watched how Chris got up and checked his phone, too, before he let himself fall down in the sheets again and turned to face her. To her surprise he leaned towards her, kissed her and fell back down next to her, his shoulder touching her.

“What a crazy party it was,” Chris said. “I do not regret showing up. At all.” Pausing, he turned to look at her. Eva looked back. She probably looked exhausted still. They had partied until rather late with Eskild and Linn and she was surprised she was awake this early. “Eva, just so you know, I will never sing Justin Bieber ever again.”

That remark made her laugh. Should she tell him that it was filmed by Linn? Was he going to find out by himself eventually? “You don’t have to,” she said. “I will remember it forever.” Chris rolled his eyes at her, which only made her laugh again. “It’s on Insta,” she admitted. “And I have the fragment saved on my phone.”

That confession resulted into Chris leaning over her trying to reach for her phone and Eva trying to keep it out of his reach, both of them laughing. “I’ll show you,” she reassured him eventually and he gave up. Eva took her phone and showed him the whole film. Her other favourite part may be the part where Chris was carrying Eskild, walking towards her and exclaiming her name while she was laughing behind the camera.

Eskild had been a more hyperactive version of himself, the person that Eva knew well from going out with him. Linn had been in a good mood and seemed to have a really good time. But most of all she had been looking at Chris, both during the evening and at the film now. Chris, who was messing around with Eskild, who was laughing a lot, who was looking at her.

Chris let himself fall back into the sheets in the theatrical way she was used to from him. “Eskild,”  she heard him say, something that made her grin. “Somebody to love, huh? Speaking of which, I haven’t heard from William.” Right. William’s dramatic entrance at the party. She had almost forgotten about that. In fact, she barely remembered it because she had only had eyes for Chris. She didn’t think that he would show up – she had invited him and he said he would come – but then he did and she had been delighted.

How he ended up in her bed was another story entirely. William had been Chris’ lift to Chris’ house and he hadn’t thought of how he would get back home. Eva’s mother wasn’t home, so bringing him home had been an easy solution. There may or may not have been some more hooking up involved, some making out, once they got to her bedroom, though.

Eva checked her messages and shook her head. “I haven’t heard from Noora either,” she said. “But I didn’t expect to. William and her are probably busy talking.” Talking, and possibly other forms of catching up and making up for lost time, too. If not that right now, than probably later. No one thought that William would show up from London to be with her. When Chris told her that William had a new girlfriend, Eva thought Noora may have to accept that William and her may not last after all. But now it seemed she was wrong, because William surprised everyone, Noora included.

“Busy talking?” Chris repeated with a teasing grin. “You want to talk some too, Eva?” Because of his emphasis on the word talk it was clear that she caught up on the alternative meaning of the word talk in this case. At least his flirting had gotten more subtle since they met, she had to give him that. “Maybe we can talk after we’ve had breakfast,” Eva suggested as she put her phone aside and got up from her bed.  She was aware that they should probably do some actual talking too, but not her nor Chris were good at that type of thing. They were such close friends because they didn’t want to overcomplicate their relationships. Close friends didn’t kiss her like he had kissed her last night and again this morning, though. And they didn’t stay over in her bed either.

“Oh, you’re getting me breakfast?” Chris asked. “Nice.” Eva took one of the pillows and threw it into his direction. Her aim was good, but so were his reflexes. He winked at her.

“If you want breakfast, Christoffer,” she said, pronouncing his name slowly because she knew he didn’t like it, “you need to get it yourself. I’m not bringing you breakfast.” Why leave him in her bed when he could be with her instead? And since she offered her bed, he should be the one making her breakfast and not the other way around.

“Fine,” Chris said in that annoyed undertone that secretly amused Eva endlessly. He got up from the mess that the sheets had become and stumbled out of the bed. He surprised her by wrapping one of his arms around her. “We should be talking after breakfast, Eva Mohn.”

They definitely should. Eva just wasn’t sure which version of the two he was talking about.