Sunday, December 20, 2009

Sleep to live, in my case Live to Sleep.

You know what I like best about that sore, dreadful week where I have been neck deep in work? Hint: It begins with an Ess. Nope, not Saturday. I was thinking more on lines of Sunday. Now I must confess that the wide eyed girl happens to be the biggest self-confessed lover of Sleep. And good food. And I’ll tell you this, Sundays are equivalent to sleeping-like-you’re-dead and delightful breakfasts for me. I’d intended to make this one about Sundays and the array of awesome things Sunday brings with it. But since I have already gone down the sleep lane, let me go further. So let me explain the ‘sleep-like-you’re-dead’ phenomenon(again, I came up with this). When I sleep, in that weird C-wanting to become-S position, with my eyes shut and mouth slightly open(not always, but it just sounds funny), I’m dead to the world! No normal or paranormal activity, no sound of a pin drop or an eruption from a mountain standing right next to me, spewing out its ‘stuff’ on me, no nails scratching on the board, no roomie trying to jerk me awake hopelessly, oh, and no alarms (I have the most notorious history with those) will ever be successful in making me even consider getting up. So this is what I do when my alarm rings in the morning and I’m not even kidding. After an hour of it ringing like a bitch right under my pillow, the sonorous waves filtering in through the fibres of my pillow and striking my ear and miserably rejected bouncing back, I decide that my roomie should at that instant when she’s having a nice, sound dream have my alarm shoved into her face! And you know what, she is not even allowed to resist. One loud grunt from me and she decides that if she wants to live long enough to produce babies (she’s dippy on babies!), she should deal with the wretched alarm, in whatever way. To hell with getting up on time. You see, I have my priorities in place. Now getting back to my original strain of thought on Sundays. Sundays, if only there was ever a thing so ideal! Get a load of this, Sundays work like this for me. I sleep till my brain is on the verge of bursting because it just can’t sleep anymore. It yeans to stretch its arms and rub its eyes but I just wouldn’t have any of it.Let me tell you about the elements which are most conducive to my oh-so-precious sleep:
• Watching some mind-numbing TV with the lights out, the pillow semi plopped against the bed, body forming an obtuse-angle, comforter pulled up to the neck(that is never compromised on). I was watching Rachel Allen’s bake last night in that position and even that seemed blissful.
• Making sure that the comforter acts like an envelope to your body and you tuck in all the ends of the comforter under yourself. That ways, there is no cold corner left around your lair and every inch of you is warm. It must be a sin to feel so good and sleepy!
• Try this: Since the comforter is up to your neck, and you are in the C-wanting to become-S position, draw up your shoulder blades so that they touch your ears. I know it sounds terribly quirky, but believe it when it’s coming from me. It works or what!
• Make sure that your hair does not fall on your face, it irritates the living daylights out of me and makes me all crabby and most importantly, it kills my sleep. *Hmmphh*
• The biggest incentive for sleep to come to me has to be thoughts of good food. I think watching ‘Bake’ last night worked on me. While Rachel Allen was whipping up some lemon tarts on the screen, I could bet I was tasting them when my mind switched off.
• This has to be my personal favourite. Listening to music when you’re all curled in the warmest spot on the bed. Listen to a track on repeat(I do that when a track gets to me) till your mind switches off and the track now plays softly in the background of your peaceful slumber. I could almost fall off to sleep imagining that feeling.
• There is nothing like the shut eye after a day of hard work and elbow grease. The feeling of falling off to sleep before your eyes shut or your head hits the pillow is the most satiating.

More will follow as I re-discover the magic of sleep everyday. I need food now. More later.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Chronicles of the wide eyed girl

All those times when I saw plays and thought about my big Broadway dream, I could never really figure how close would I actually get to living that one up. So let me start from the scratch, I was not what you would ordinarily expect from a girl who was passionate about acting to be like. Lets break the "Oooh I want to be an actress when I grow up" stereotype, shall we. Undeniably, I had my share of stand tall(but of course! I was wearing my mom's stilettos), wear mother's red lipstick and spritz her perfume and stare at my image, posing in the mirror for hours, phase. But I NEVER wanted to be an 'actress' when I grew up.I had a panache for acting from the time I was very little, or at least I think :) "The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven."It was not exactly a colossal feat playing Portia from Merchant of Venice I would say, as much as it was to have played her in Class 4.
The wide-eyed girl weaved a parallel world full of plays and Broadways for herself. The dreams got bigger and shinier. With every performance. With every compliment. I almost felt my acting prowess in me :)
Stage II of this big wonderful dream: This is when the bubble bursts. That is how the cookie crumbles. Law School happened to me. Suddenly the wide eyed girl peddling her plays and scripts recoiled. Not for long, though. Like they say (or do they not?) that don't find your dreams, let the dreams find you. And so it happened.
You know how the processes of familiarization and socialization work, right? In law school, its quite like the plonk-your-posterior-on-the-couch syndrome(I came up with that). When you are new and unaccustomed, you are uneasy. Extremely. (You're surrounded by every specie of nerds there ever was, what the hell were you expecting.) And soon, you find 'your spot'. It is this nice cushy-jammy place. Comfortable. Extremely. Your posterior fits that spot on the couch just right. Read:you know where you stand and you have made your peace with that. And in my case, I found that I could, almost like an intrinsic instinct find theatre back into my life. Of course it came with all those practices at ungodly hours(Yes, we practice at 6 in the morning).There is more a possibility of the security guy who sits at the college gate of being late, than there is of our practices beginning late(Or thats how it was initially :) ).
And you know what, the dreams are just getting bigger. The theatre accomplishments in my journey so far make me happy, sure. But I get this tingling feel that this is not the end.Not so soon. The wide eyed girl has a lot of stories to tell and to act. Reveries plentiful in her backpack. All the woolgathering is a little too much, you'd say. I think so too. But its funny how when you try really hard, you cannot ever for the life of you figure out what life has planned for you. But when you are not trying all that hard, you see a pattern.
I see that pattern and hence I tell you. I will somehow find myself in a Broadway play. I mean I should, right? The musical sorts. I like musicals. And when that happens, I will find myself sitting all alone in the theater, just a day before the play kicks off, thinking about this day when the wide eyed girl, 20 something, hair hastily twisted up right at the top of her head, sat in front of her laptop screen typing all this out, watching the dream unfold in her head as she wrote.
The wide eyed girl and her phantasm live on.