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And then there are those moments in my life when my mother is massaging coconut oil in my scalp and hair and I close my eyes, literally feeling like all the stress is draining out of my head and going down to my toes and seeping out of my skin, with a subtle sense of Paradise upon inhalation.

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Those times when I’m not counting my blessings…

I’m instead counting the reasons for my unhappiness. 

A few reasons why I feel short of happiness:

1. I’m my most strongest at my weakest. I tend to redirect my frustration from it’s source to something completely unrelated (like if i’m utterly upset, saddened and highly affected by someone’s words/actions towards me, I focus all this energy (granted, it’s all negative energy), onto something such as studying super hard for an exam). Is this really what it takes to push me forward because I’m not sure how emotionally deteriorating this method ultimately is and I don’t want to get used it because it comes with a great cost with an iffy benefit. It’s actually really exhausting. Feels like sprinting, a 5-hour energy drink. While it’s happening you feel this oomph! But in the end, i’m back at square one, nothing resolved or gained besides maybe a B+ or luckily A-

2. Maybe all these wise psychologists and buzzfeed article contributors are right — social media really does mess with your happiness. BUT C’MON. How are these people always so cheerful and happy and constantly having all these things going for their lives. I’m here like “OH! i was happy for a whole whopping week” I don’t think I ever ever EVER remember being undoubtedly happy, grateful, “blessed”, beautiful, for a straight month, let alone for a 100 days…….. Hm..must be nice. 

3. Ah, the inevitable. Being confused about my career is probably 50% of the reason why I’m far from being happy. How is it that all my life I THOUGHT I knew what I wanted to do, and then bam! I turn 21. And my world flips upside down. Seeing all my peers getting accepted into professional schools, going abroad, being so sure about themselves really leaves me feeling subpar. 

I really want to stop numbering all the reasons keeping me from being happy. I thought of like 10 more, but I just don’t want to type them out because it makes them that more real and existent. I know, i know, there are people out there who have it worse than me, but does that fact make my issues disappear?. no. they’re still there. I think the only thing that does make me feel a little better is that everyone is always fighting a battle within and just reminding myself every now and then helps me become a kinder person. It refrains me from saying hurtful things to people no matter how upset I may get. The mind is a razor and words are more powerful than swords. 

ugh i hate personal posts. 

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A tour of my Indian life:


Welcome friends and strangers. From the day I was born until the very second I am here breathing right now, I have observed many parenting styles, family types, etc. There are parents who ‘ground’ their kids, there are some who are fighting custody battles, some who are rarely home, some who dgaf, and some who are simply so sweet that they give you cavities. AND THEN….there are Indian parents. They’re special. They get their very own category of parenting style (assuming most Indian parents resemble mine, from a lifetime of speculation and observation).

I have spent half of my life just coming up with new ways and back-up stories to hide stuff. Just…insignificant STUFF that shouldn’t even matter whether or not my parents knew or not. Instead of spending the time that I squander by coming up with silly lies coverups, that very time should go towards something of more importance. There are things that just cannot escape from your mouth in front of Indian parents. Here’s a list of expectations, forbidden fruits, and whatever else that comes to mind as memories follow me through 18 years of being an American- born, Indian-ly raised confused teenager.

1. The male species. A guy’s name escapes from your mouth, and a million assumptions and questions arise like a tsunami just waiting to happen. All that because guys have a thing hanging between their legs. Yup.

2. Your room is always too dirty in the eyes of an Indian mother. I am not even bragging, but my room is squeaky clean. Nope, never enough for the parent.

3. “You don’t go to school to have fun. You go to study your brains, ass, guts, eyeballs (insert body parts here) off. Once you graduate and become successful, THEN you can enjoy your life” (assuming you haven’t committed suicide yet).

4. As women, we are expected to be able to cook full meals by the age of 25. Aka, be the perfect wife for your husband. Or else the ultimate rhetorical question gets thrown at you: “Vut are you gonna do ven you get married, beta?!”

5. Frugality is not just a phase for a short period of financial distress. It’s the way of life in an Indian household. Coupons, discounts, freebies, OH MY!

6. Look at my cell phone’s “recent incoming calls” history, and half of it is from my mother. Furthermore, look at the timing: every. godgiven. hour.

7. You find yourself making up CODE NAMES for boys, events, (what am I? an elementary student?) even at the age of 18.

8. You are encouraged to live at home until….you’re married. And you’re also encouraged to pursue a career in the field of engineering, medicine, etc. Assuming I want to be a doctor, I probably won’t get a chance to get married until the age of 28-30. So…living at home until the age of 30? WTF! not going to happen.

9. If you have Indian parents, chances are you have never had the oh-so-famous sex-talk.

10. If you have Indian parents, they are most likely racist. and open about it.

11. If you have Indian parents, you’ve probably already had a mid-life crisis at the age of 16.

12. “Why are you just SITTING there reading a book? Go do your homework!”  Um, okay? Sorry for being so literary?

13. No privacy whatsoever.

14. You live for your parents, not for yourself.

15. Carpe diem? Oh nono, that doesn’t not exist with Indian parents. Seize the day grades.

16. They have to know EVERYTHING about your friends’ lives. As if you stalk your own friends 24/7. “what is yada-yada doing right now? Where is yada-yada? What grade did yada-yada get?”

at this point i sound like a bitch bashing on my own kind. But it’s just so hard. so hard.

I still love my parents though. despite everything. because in the end. they care a little too much.

I can’t believe I wrote this four years ago. The funny thing is that…………… things haven’t really changed.  

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No relationship can truly grow if you go on holding back. If you remain clever and go on safeguarding and protecting yourself, only personalities meet, and the essential centers remain alone. Then only your mask is related, not you. Whenever such a thing happens, there are four persons in the relationship, not two. Two false persons go on meeting, and the two real persons remain worlds apart.
Osho, Intimacy: Trusting Oneself and the Other (via creatingaquietmind)

(Source: syllablesandsoliloquies, via teachingliteracy)

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We yearn for rain in the summer
and for warm nights in December.
Humans have an affinity
towards what they can’t have,
for what is not present,
for what is forbidden.

What is there that poses so alluring?
The more the heart is suppressed,
the more its wants become pressing.

(via myinkstainedheart)