Have decided, no more sad blogs here. There is other space for that. Things that made me happy.

Today was an unexpectedly nice day. You just can't make any plans can you? I was supposed to clean up this mess of a room. But then got a call and Chateau de Vizille, here I come.

What sticks in my mind the most is Phillippe's smile when he saw me. That little face full of white teeth brightening up my day more than any ray of yellow light would do. And off we went in the car. One little face smiling shyly in the back. On the way lots of stories about the strike, and the economic crisis and it's damned effects. Yes why? What has he done to suffer from this blasted thing? Anyways, keeping this happy. And then what else did we talk about? Not too much of couse the kids were excited as usual. One of the reasons why i love kids. They demand attention. And save you from thinking what am I to say next.

The chateau wasn't a great massive thing. And to be honest it wasn't even the prettiest thing I ever saw. But then it was now converted into a museum. I went into the museum by myself coz the children wanted to play outside. I wandered looking about at the paintings and sculptures that had something to do with the French Revolution. Everytime i keep telling myself I have to read some more about this. And suddenly a room called Chambre de Psyche. Wondered then and am still wondering, where does Psyche feature in the French Revolution. Minerva yes yes, Goddess of Victory (I hope I'm right). But Psyche? She's no goddess, just the girl Cupid fell in love with. A curious girl who according to me personifies the saying, 'curiosity kills the cat' Though her it was worse she almost had to give up her love. But then....hey Alison, you are going away from the topic. This will resemble a 17th century novella if you don't stick to the topic. Yah how i hated that one we had to study. Ok

But whatever the Chambre de Psyche was pretty. Atleast something i had read about. I know about the French Revolution too. But when you are faced with a museum full of the stuff you feel at least slightly like an ignoramus. What else did I like? Of course the library with it's books stacked so high up that they had a really nice ladder to reach up and get those books that you were too short to reach. And yes the paintings. But then after 45mins of wandering along wooden floors that creaked I was getting a little bored.

Oh i must tell you that i came across this wall where they had put up pictures of the Presidents of France who had stayed at the Castle. There was Charles de Gaulle of course. Somewhere down the line mitterand, his face had been scratched. Defintely some one who didn't support him. And then after Chirac was M. Sarkozy. His face was almost completely scratched. They don't like him much do they? Anyways let's not get into politics!

After the Castle went onto the grounds. The kids skipping in front and we two adults following. until they decided to make a chain by holding hands. We had ust enough time to look at the deers in the park. She's promised to take me there another time. To see the whole grounds. The other animals. And of course i'd love to go.

Before we left I had gauffre chantilly. Chantilly's nothing to do with the wine, by the way. it's a whipped cream on Gauffre (waffles). Nice. I specially enojoyed seeing the children devouring it, with the cream getting all over their faces. They are the sweetest little things! The kids I mean.

Then time to get back. The brother and sister gott into a fight. The mother had to pull over the car to make peace. But then it happens allllll the time. Saw some ponies on the way. That made Camille squeal with absolute pure delight. And tehy sang loudly. Some english songs too. Akon to be sure. Finally reached my stop. Kissed goodbye. Phillippe, strapped to his seat couldn't reach out so shook hands like a gentleman. I love those kids. Just watching them jump and frolic with their unending energy, makes me want to stop feeling cold and jump with them. I'll do that maybe. When they hold my hand I 'll swing it a little more. And walk with a little spring in my step.

Now with this nice philosophy floating in my head I need to wake up tomorrrow and clean my room.

Waiting for Hypnos!

Am here to tell you about last night.
So, then after all the sledding and walking knee-deep in snow, I was exhausted. Believe it or not but by 10pm I was ready to hit the bed. But still, saying bye to friends online isn't a hurried job- especially when you are usually up till after midnight otherwise, with Neha reminding me to sleep sometimes. I think Gale did that too once, not that she ever sleeps before 2am! What do you do? Anyways, so finally crept into the bed just as it was getting around 11 pm. Waiting for sleep to blissfully take over. But this was one of those super irritating nights when all you want to do is sleep but when you are waiting for it to come on you it decides to play that highly insensitive game of playing hard to get, while you are in half a mind to get up and continue with doing something interesting- for eg surfing the net. But yet your limbs refuse to oblige and you wait there praying to Hypnos while shifting in bed looking for the most comfortable position.

Suddeny, i'm awake. 6am already? Oh damn, why can there not be even a little light in the sky? But morning already? Hey i'm in the same postion that I was in when I fell asleep, at least the last I can remember before sleep mercifully descended. Is that my landlady awake? What is she doing? Awake before me? I can hear a cat. And she's calling the cat, "Paille". It must be morning. Now I dare not fall asleep. The alarm will go off any moment. What's on the roof? Paille (my landlady's cat) Why is he here? Why can he not jump on the roof of her bedroom? Should I open the door and let him in? And that incessant meowing. After what seems like ages but must have actually been not more than 3mins, she opened the door for the cat!

I'm lying awake, why is the alarm not ringing? I'm sure it is 6am. Let me see. I unlock my cell. What amazing relief! It's only 1:06am. Yippee! I can sleep peacefully! And i drift away.

Wide awake! Why is this happening, not again. I have to sleep, i have a whole day of work tomorrow. I image the dark circles growing under my eyes. Sleep, why are you so elusive? It's only natural to sleep, don't act so pricey. Just come and drown me in your portion. Maybe tomorrow I wont call on you so early. But let go now, just wave those poopies over my eyes and let me relax in your realm.

And somehow throughout the night I drift in and out of the long tunnels of sleep. Wake up in the morning as soon as the first note of the alarm hits. Hoping that my energetic jump will help me through the day.

Throught the 3 continuous lectures, drift between the conscious and sub- conscious. I've had moments where i've blanked out.

And now before I go for my next and luckily last lecture for the day, I'm downing, now this my third mug of coffee. Hoping it will as always help me get through. All I have to survive is one more class.

Was up at 10am this morning, wondering what to do. Maybe i should just laze a while longer. Anyways i have nothing to do. But then one of my collegues from the Lycee called. She said she was going sledding with her kids and asked whether i wanted to join her. Ofcourse! What the hell's sledding? Yes i will be there. Bus timings, plan to meet outside the Musee... Ok done! While having coffee, type in sledding in Google. I have to know atleast something about it right?

Turned out to be an awesome experiance. As most of the new things i've done and tried out here. The main thing about sledding is that you have to take the sledge to the top of a slope sit in it and slide to the bottom. Now what got my hairs standing, wasn't the knee-deep snow but the fact that i had a phobia of slidding. And also acrophobia! Not in it's greatest degree, but quite a bit to make me dizzy when i looked down a slope. But then she was asking her kids to help me, and i couldn't be a coward in front of an 8year old and a 10year old. That is inimaginable! So bravely i went up, taking advice from serious 8 year old Phillippe! The only word i caught on was 'freiner' (for my ignorant non- French speakin friends that means to apply brakes). Ok so i knew how to stop myself...in case....

I took it on bravely! And voila, i enoyed it. Where were you acrophobia? and that slide-o-phobia? I won't go about saying how exhilirating...blah...blah...blah. I thoroughly enjoyed it! And now am ready to take on the world! Para-gliding anyone? Or maybe we could go bungee-jumping. Jump out of a helicopter maybe! Whay say?

I was walking in knee high snow, and actually sweating. What an effort, I tell you! The snow, sparkling in the brilliant sunshine, trees standing out with their bare branches white with melting frost! Snow sings, you know. Not exactly musical, but a nice sound! Happy children running about, sliding around and of course falling all over the place. Adults acting like kids trying to prtended like adults, but then giving it up, coz it hampers the good feeling.

I gave up sledding for the idea of building an igloo with Phillippe. He seemed to be in a bad mood- don't ask why...isn't it universal for a kid of that age, especially with a bossy big sister, to be perpetually-in-between-mood-swings! I was afraid at first that he might just throw some snow-balls at me to get rid of me. But luckily he took to me and began unfolding his blue-prints for the construction of the igloo. Mona, his sister got interested and began supplying us with the raw material- big chunks of snow transported on the sledge.

After we had built the igloo half way, we decided to take a few pictures with a snow man! Had to repair him a bit. But gat a happy picture, though till now i don't know which side the snowman was looking. By the time we got back to the igloo, we discovered a little brat in the process of destroying it. Happens all the time...if you can't be a creator, be a destroyer. But here the little villan got a earful. And he seemed pretty upset. Hopefully he descides to be more constructive the next time.

And then the sun dipped over the mountains and the cold ruthlessly set it. Time to leave!

So acted like a total kid. Finished the week on a really happy note! And am thinking once again, France is not bad! Oh no class tomorrow! Have to be up at 6am :(

But still...after the nice weekend, i'm ready to take on the world- and the cold..burrrrrrrrr! Can we go sking next time???

Uma's been after me to put up new posts. And i've been putting it off saying i lack the inspiration. And now just feel like writing when i don't have any specific thing to write about. Thoughts floating. But coming out in a garbled fashion. I can't make sense of them. Do all writers write about their feelings. Is every story a reflection of the author? What about a poem? Definately an emotion expressed. An emotion? It's more a rosary of emotions. Paintings and sculptures. Expressions of feelings and emotions. Love and hate. And regret and anger. Madness even. Even nursery rhymes have meanings. They are filled with emotions and thoughts. They are meant to evoke an emotion. When i went to the Louvre i was lost. I was lost in the swirling of centuries of feelings. Every room, every atom in the museum was filled with a passion. An overflow of love or wonder, grief or maybe just happiness. Every object had a story, and i wanted to listen. I felt foolish in my poor dress of ignorance, while surrounded with so much knowledge and feeling. The same thing happens to me when i go to a library. I love libraries. The smell of books. The dust that covers the books. The yellowing pages, the clausterphobic print. What was the author thinking? Where was he? Why was he thinking like this? What was happening in his life. I drink like a cracked drought sticken plain. The delicious petrichor fills me with a thirst. Each page comes alive with the letters and words, dancing a funnily farmiliar- yet- so- different- from -what- i've- ever- known- before dance. It takes my mind and lets it play on a playground, so insanely strange yet safe. Without boundaries of norm and society. It allows something to be born. Yet is this what he wanted? What was he thinking? Did the author want me to think this way? Hey man, yes you there! What were you thinking when you left open this window into your thoughts? Why did you want me to read about your love? Even if you say this is fiction there is something about you in there, right? Or else you would never have written it? What do i make of you? Do you expect me to understand you? Are you afraid of being mis- understood? Definately there is a motive. Why lay your feelings clothed with the translucent silk of the make- belief? You want to be understood. Or there is simply no purpose. Have you ever been wanting to say something but are not sure whether he would understand. Speak they say. Why are you quiet? Am i boring you? Why don't you tell me what you feel? But then feeling is one thing isn't it? Saying it is another. Maybe the time isn't right. And you know what i wait for isn't it? The right word. Are you always happy, dear writer with what you write. Is that exactly the word that came to you mind? How much paper did you waste in drafts? I bet so many times you have wondered, what if he gets to read this? He will definately know what i mean. Oh no i can't allow him to know my feelings. It would throw away my coloured garb. Make me look plain and expose me the way i am. But the they jump at me. They make me want to wriggle my way through the dense tunnels they have made. They eat into me. I want to know what they mean. i want to know the thoughts. And i want to solve the words that are hidding within the high constructions. I need to find it out. The real thought, the real meaning. The feelings that are not made known, you want them to be known, don't you? If not i wouldn't find you here, in the library crowded between the other books. What about feelings untold? What about those words awaiting the magic keys of understanding. Dear writer, painter of my imagination, tailor of my thoughts, lead me through the anguish of my restless mind, let me see in your creation a way that leads to the depth of your unfollowed path.

What do you do when you want to write and it just doesn't happen? Somehow this never seemed the problem before. Maybe this is coz now i'm writing a blog the chances of someone reading it and not liking it are great. As usual asking myself what if it is mis-understood. Somehow that is always my biggest worry. Not just blogs, but always. What if i say the wrong thing and they don't understand? Did he feel bad that i said this? Now what will she think? Will he hate me for this? Have i hurt him? And then i am thinking, these are my thoughts thoughts that are subjective. Conditioned by the things that i have gone through and what i have felt. Why should it affect another. And then maybe, let me leave it to destiny! lol. Is it an easy way to find the solution to things? It's destiny! Or is there something really like that? I believe there is. Life has gone through so much. Shuffling through the pages of the last year, i've come to believe more and more in this. That things happen for a reason. Sometimes it's so damn covet that we are lost looking for answers. It's so difficult to leave and say if it's to be it will be. Is patience really the virtue of the wise? I said that to someone, right? Then maybe i'm not wise, coz i have to remind my self to be patient and i have moments of perplexed restlessness.

My first post for this year. I should mak it worth the while right? But i can't say that much has changed since december 2008 to January 2009. You can't expect someone to change overnight- that too 31st December night. I don't really want to speculate about the last year. Of course it has been a happening year. Happening is an understatement. And now i sit here, surrounded with bits and pieces of the stuff i've been doing and even plans for what i'm going to do. As usual things pending and yelling for attention. but am i ignoring it? Or maybe just the usual procrastinating Alison. Is that my strongest quality? Oh no, please no! Yet that seems to define me more than anything else. Even writing. I seem to push away the very thing that gave me most pleasure. And now all of a sudden an urge to write. And it turns out to be another bit of nonsense. Am i really not thinking in a straight line? Why not? Is it coz of the songs i heard? The scenes i watched? Why are you doing this to yourself? But then it's the heart that is to be blamed. No, am not feeling low, in fact the sun is out and shinning brightly over the glistening snow. what the hell am i doing indoors? I should have stepped out and taken a walk. But i'll do that later anyways. The heart. How do i know what it is saying is true? Sometimes you speak so softly that i just can't hear. Or even if i hear i think maybe i miss understood. Is it that what you want me to do? what is it you want to do Alison? And then that ridiculously eternal battle of the heart and mind. Logic and emotion. Reason and impulse. But then aren't adults supposed to be more reasonable? Longing for things. Yet looking forward and expecting. longing and expectations. Enemies of mine. why do things just not seem to work sometimes? Not asking for too much. Don't expect to get much. Heart, can you tell me what i want to do? She opens her eyes and sees the sun dancing. It gets warm doesn't it. But then some greedy thought hopes for a warmer place. Why why why, do we expect people to make us happy? Hoping that maybe, at least, or just somehow it will happen. But then i told you didn't i. it is not to be. But how can it be? What's the meaning of hope then? Yet, Heart says, that is what is to heal. And somehow in each moment, however much the battle rages, there is always that space which spells out the only thing i'm ever looking for. Somehow i know it will never go away. And no matter what in the war the only thing that triumphs is the heart. Even if it is sad, it always does what is right.