I blog, tweet, face book…therefore I am.

I’ll bet Descartes had no idea how many incarnations that quote of his would take. Even though it's been a while since my blog runnith over, I still continued fancying myself as a blogger. That was before I got talking to my geeky near and dear ones. What an eye opener that was. I am the long tail of the social media universe. I am a....laggard….how I hate that word. That's the down side… for me. But the up side is for all women-kind and makes up for the beating my techgo (tech +ego) has taken.
It was a bit of an 'Alice in wonderland' moment for me when I accidently walked into this wonderful alternative universe filled with so many articulate, intelligent and accomplished women from every walk of life and part of the world, blogging about everything from climbing the corporate ladder with kids in tow to 'bitch slaps' http://www.redheadwriting.com/
What was even more heart warming was reading some of the responses to the blogs. The humor, good naturdeness and empathy shared by us women (and a few men in touch with their female sides) was all pervasive. There's definitely a community out there with the same hopes, fears, ambitions and dreams. And it’s open to everyone, there’s no red carpet or closed door policy.
The story began some years ago with the birth of ‘My space’. It still hadn’t permeated our collective conscience back home in India that there was a slot in cyber-space that could be uniquely yours; We were still digging face-to-face communication, phone calls to ‘foreign’ and snail mail. We were used to sharing our personal space (or lack of) with the billion others that were fighting for it.
The next chapter came around sooner than expected and it was called Facebook we laggards took up the banner pretty rapidly albeit slower than the technological savvy generation of the time aka 'ipod generation' who’ve now graduated to the 'always on' generation (I can still remember generation X and generation Y…. that date’s me dammit!) We’ve started living, breathing, talking Face book. I know my aunt does, and probably for the same reasons we all do, because whether we like it or not we Homo sapiens cannot function without our pack, our community. We love passing judgment, showing support, feeling important in the live’s of those who matter, stalking the lay of the land, keeping tabs, showing off, professing allegiance... we’re nosy bastards, the lot of us!
Then came twitter and that upped the ante, we had to cram the complexity of language (pauses, umms, ahhs and all) into 150 characters including links. I remember claiming that I’d never get on twitter because quite frankly, I had nothing to say.... boy, that came back to bite me in the ass like with most things I claim I’ll never do ( like ‘Googling’). Now I can't get off the dam thing, At first it was to read about the latest and greatest, now its become social currency, it's about collecting 'followers', being in the 'know', being the first to share something news worthy or witty. Re-tweets are the epitome of this, I have to say I’m guilty of checking how many of my tweets have been re-tweeted (not many). Why? Apart from the fact that I’m a navel gazer (there I said it!) unlike face book its more than the 150 real life friends (who give a shit about what you have to say) that’re listening to you. With twitter, re-tweets and all there’s millions…thousands…ok… well, hundreds then, of user names out there who feel you’re interesting enough to want to listen to and sometimes pass on your golden 150 characters! Guess what folks! I'm a celebrity in my own little virtual world! …Right! Maybe it’s time for my 'bitch slap' after all.

Pray, Love, Eat (in that order)

Eat, pray, love….God knows I’m trying! The latter bit I mean…I watched the celluloid incarnation of the book last night. I’ve been meaning to watch it for a while and finally went and bought the DVD yesterday because it was one of those really rubbish days where I needed a couple of hours of wallowing in self pity. There used to be a time when wallowing in self-pity meant working my ass off in the gym…but these days…oh no! Its all about eating a fun size bag of crisps. Throw in a diet coke or two and I’m in heart attack heaven!
While Julia Roberts looks fantastic, I thought it was a far cry from the book. The transformation from neurosis to calm takes an entire box set; a two-hour movie just doesn’t cut it. In spite of everything it did the trick. Here I am, writing my blog after what seems an eternity, clearly I’m still a bit rusty since the self pity isn’t flowing like it used to. Guess that’s what happens when you’re really low on angst, not the work kind but the personal kind. My job is still the Bain of my existence but life’s pretty good…when I take a break from navel gazing that is. Oh yes I bought the sound track for the movie too in addition to the book and the DVD. The only thing left to buy is the T-shirt and a one way ticket to Bali
So what was it I could relate to? Apart from the wanderlust, it’s the depiction of her need for closure that got me. Does closure equate selfishness? Is it Ok to relegate someone to the back of your mind because you’re unable to give him or her a front row seat? Its not because you don’t care its because you don’t want to care or you’ll never be able to move on or even stay stationary and give it your best. The older you get the harder you become. Survival of the fittest takes on a completely new meaning.
Which brings me to my next point. The art of tolerating…some say you get what you give but sometimes you take what you get. Is it worth it? I honestly don’t know. It’s more like (in marketing speak), what your objectives are. There are some who are focused on having the kids – so anyone with a decent gene pool and sperm count will do; then there’s the liberals looking for sex on tap; there’s many a puppy (younger man) more than happy to oblige. Finally the third and most common, those of us who’re looking for an illusion aka soul mate. Doesn’t exist ladies! Wake up and smell the coffee! Except perhaps if you’re Julia Roberts playing Elizabeth Gilbert. Maybe she also settles for the what she gets, not much choice I’d imagine if you’re stuck on a remote island in the middle of bum fuck.
Let me know what you think of the sequel to Eat, Pray, love. Its called ‘’committed’’ or as I fondly call it (and this is an Indianism) “Admitted”*

*Sectioned