if only you could see me now

Really, there is only so much "ironic juxtaposition" a term paper can take.
But what am I to do, when there really ARE all these deliberate placements and comparisons (subtle ones too!) in the movie that I'm supposed to be reviewing/analysing?!

Waltz with Bashir. That movie's the subject of my contemplation, as of late.

I'm not condoning warfare, but today I genuinely had to ask myself if there is actually beauty in war, and whether it was poltically correct to say so.

I choose not to use the term glorification of war, instead, "stylised violence"- which is what war films nowadays essentially are.

But for some reason, this one phrase that Big K imparted to us in our final few months of study of literature, keeps resounding in my head. "Only Connect"- as said by E.M. Forster.

Writing this term paper however, has been one of the most organic writing processes I've had since school started. All the other writing I've done so far- academic, journalistic or otherwise- has felt rather forced. There was no natural inclination to push my own boundaries, which I found highly unnerving. Perhaps I let the competition get to me. I've never had to deal with this many other people who want to enter the same profession, and have followed similar "writing paths" as me before (wrt writing experience and engagement with publications).

Case in point- I haven't been blogging here either! Cos I haven't felt inspired enough, really. To put it in prose. I put it in tweets instead (omg what a sellout. i know right.)

But this term paper exercise, has got me back to my comfort zone almost. I'm not trying to impress anybody but myself. I want this to be a solid piece of work, unlike the rubbish I've been producing for school assignments prior to this. (well not always rubbish- sometimes I think I've done a decent job, but then having a tutor with a vendetta against you is not always advantageous. Apparently, she's always picked on the indians, cos she wants to see us do well. But all she's achieved with me is demoralisation- is there such a word- and an unspeakable desire for vindication. She has made me doubt my own abilities, deliberately might I add, and I will never forget her for that. I might not even forgive her.)

I'm even giving up deepavali visiting to do it. That's how much "in the zone" I am with this piece. I've missed this feeling, cos honestly, it doesn't always happen. And there's been a dry spell for the past 10 weeks.

I think I might be giving up deepavali visiting for other reasons as well. I don't care much for getting dressed up today, THOUGH i've been ITCHING to go out all week. To party, not to stuff my face with goodies and mingle with people. One of those anti-social days, yknow? Either way, there's a party at the Indian Association that we gotta attend tmr- which'll be more worth my while I think. Plus I get to lay eyes and walk on the beloved cricket pitch at the IA I once played on as a 17-year-old.

I'm fully aware how badly this is reflecting on me as a filial daughter for not making obligatory appearances at relatives houses. I never resented doing that before- why now?
Maybe cos I don't care anymore. I've become a cynic, and a prat. A cynical prat.

But this too shall pass.