Ye Olde Fest

(Upon coming across a package of paneer in our fridge)

Mom: I’ve been putting off making anything with this because I know if I open it I have to use it all, otherwise it’ll go bad. So today, it’s going to be a paneer fest.

Me: A paneer fest? (laughing)

Mom: What’s so funny about that?

Me: Who uses the word fest?

Mom: I’ve seen it advertised everywhere…you know…like street fests!

10 hours later and I still can’t stop laughing at this conversation…but somehow I get the feeling that the only other person who finds this as amusing as I do has already had his share of laughs about this and doesn’t read my blog.

Hey! Teacher! Leave Them Kids Alone

Rarely does a paper make me reassess my undergraduate career and blog but this one takes the cake. Over my undergraduate career I’ve written maybe seventy papers (ish) and the biggest lesson I learnt is the following: I don’t know anything.

1. There is no answer to any question that doesn’t require some amount of fence-sitting.

2. Everything is relative.

3. If answers to essay questions were colours I’d have 70 different shades of grey.

Have I said the same thing three times? Excellent. It’s the mark of a paper that does well. In light of this, I can’t answer a question. I’ve long stopped trying to argue with my family about politics because they hate the way I qualify everything (they think it makes my argument weaker…if only they knew). I never suggest changes that can be made to improve policy although I will criticize it vehemently (suggesting changes is like essay suicide…want a C? tell your prof how it should be done)–another quality that makes normal people hate arguing with me.

So after all of this, three months away from graduation I get a paper like this:

Democracies make better policies. Agree or Disagree.

Crap…I don’t know. Unfortunately this time my prof wants a real answer.

Knowing Me Knowing You

I’ve had few friends in my life that I can be my normal annoying self with. Very early on, I developed an inability to express any sort of negative feelings around friends. I guess I took being nice a little too far. In truth, I am naggy, quick tempered and a little obsessive about things and thankfully only a very select few get to see this. The upside (if there is one) is that being my weird self is the human version of love bites. Yes, I’m annoying…but I love you. Maybe it’s a fair trade? (or at least I tell myself it might be) As embarrassed as I am after the fact when I think about my own stupidity, I’m actually a little happy. I shared my worst with you and you’re still around.

Moving the way my family did when I was a kid made it really difficult for me to keep friends. I’m great at befriending people, I just suck at maintaining my relationships. I’ve learnt in the last four years (or so) the importance of genuine friends. Thankfully, I haven’t had to work very hard to keep them around…they did all the work. They’ve taught me how to be loyal and selfless and all I’ve had to do was learn from my mistakes. Once in a while (especially when I’m particularly difficult), I know I should say thanks.

Yummy Yummy Yummy I Got Nought in my Tummy

I have no immune system. I average five colds a year (no, I’m not exaggerating) that last at least three weeks each. It SUCKS. You think I would be used to it be now…but no, every time I get a cold I whine like a baby. Have I made myself sound enough like a pathetic no-resistance child yet? Well just in case I haven’t, here comes my cold induced complaint: I hate not being able to taste food.

I’m one of those people who eats to live. The process of putting food on a plate, lifting it to my mouth and chewing is too much work for me…especially if I don’t like what I’m eating. Most of the time, at the end of the day I would rather sleep than eat. Suffice it to say on a normal day I don’t eat much, so when I do eat, it’s special. This is why I get so annoyed with colds.

I hate not being able to taste or smell things. Just feeling textures does NOT do it for me. Not knowing what I’m eating gives me even less incentive to put food on my plate, lift it to my mouth and chew. I hate colds.