Pizza phobia to mania!

Heard of such a thing? Pizza phobia? Well it does exist okay. Among socially conscious whiny wimps like me. The phobia involves fear of tearing apart the cheese with your teeth. Embarrassment, rather than fear. Fear of using cutlery due to lack of knowledge in table manners and art of eating. Fear of going thru the ‘all greek’ menu and finally make a sensible order for food! (the time isn’t far when the type of crust and size of the pan misled me.) Crust and size are never related to food for people of this kind. You cant blame the thoughts! And finally the fear of addiction. What if I actually liked it and want more and grow into an addiction? That’s the most genuine fear, atleast till the point you start buying your bread or find a boy friend with Sodexo food coupons!

Getting past all these fears listed, and the many more unlisted fears, is one heck of a task. You pray to the cheese to be intact. You beg the onion not to pop out of your mouth. You coax the crust to be just big enough for your mouth, so that you wont have to let others see the inside of your throat, pushing down the pizza. And most of all, you pray to the pan to stay warm and keep the pizza still tasty, coping with your slow motioned eating! When everything falls in place, when all your pleas and prayers are heard, finally, you’ll know it’s worth it. Truly worth the price. The majestic worth of royal food!

Here starts the truly ‘drive you nuts’ part. The mania! You brush pizza,(pee and poop knowingly avoided) you drink pizza, you think pizza, you write pizza, you talk pizza, you pizza pizza! Not enough pizza to eat! You wonder when’s the next pizza! Its just not enough!

Honestly, I love my transition. From phobia to mania. I never agree it was phobia though. Lol. But yeah, I confess it was. And now, the mania phase is awesome. It was just taking a break I suppose. Had a challenge or a bet or whatever you call it, with a friend, that I’ll no longer eat pizza until I start saving my bread. The rationale behind the bet was that the person asked me where all these pizza went into! Lol. That’s actually a genuine question. But one should be considerate enough to not ask questions, whose answers are buried under the earth, and never dug out! Shouldn’t they be? Lol. Anyway, coming back to the bet. I broke it. Had to. Unavoidable situation! As unavoidable as getting an offer to eat as much as you can! Lol.

Stepped into Pizza Hut, Gold Souk. The guy asks, “Hello ma’m! Would you like to *some voice missing*? “. I ask, “Pardon?”. He again, “Good evening! Ma’m, would you like to *some faint voice*?”. Me, “Eh?”. The guy, “Kazhikkanano vanne?”. Me to myself, “Shit! Evanum arinjo aa betine patti!”.

Appendix : The list of fears is never ending. Fear number next : Inaudible dumbhead all knowing pizza hut guys. (Or may be just the lack of a pair of hearing aids!). Back to the phobia! Lol.

The inside story

Was down with a fever and cough for a week. And that was such a wonderful timing that I missed five of my internal exams. Frankly, I was glad I’ve more time to study. But yeah, nothing of that sort happened and I screwed them up as usual. No big deal. The retests were postponed and dragged, long enough that I was itched to face them and get over them. But then, it’s the teachers’ mercy playing. And that’s such a rare commodity! Well, whatever. Glad that I’m finally done with it today. Almost. Yeah. Just almost. One more to go.

Well. This aint about my retests or academic crap. I was actually talking about the inside story. The plot and the dialogues inside a staff room. That was funny. Rather surprising. Teachers are
unpredictable beings outside the classroom, or more precisely, inside the staffroom. They talk. Gossip. Prick. Laugh. Confess. Seek help. Seeking help is the most common actually. 🙂

Okay. Everybody does that. So can teachers. They are also common people like you and I. But that’s not the point at all. They do all the very common things in a peculiar way. ‘Appo eli kadichittalle elippani pakarunnathathu??’ I laughed at that question. Laughed really hard. Not thinking about the scientific aspect of it. But seeing my ‘Digital System Design’ teacher stare so stupid and blank, I just couldn’t stop! (The subject name says how bright she should be!) And adding to my surprise, all the teachers in the staffroom fell silent as I broke into laughter. They looked at eachother and I could sense me screwing up. But to my shock, they started laughing with me. They find me mocking at a teacher so hilarious! Seriously! Lol. And another teacher. She says how she’d scare them, coming back as ghost if they dont get her a wreath of rose if she dies of elippani!

I loved the irony. The teacher next to me was shit scared and tensed. I was rotflmao (in my mind) when I learnt the reason for her worry. She was worried of screwing up coz the Inspector from the university had caught her using mobile phone during class hours! I still cant stop laughing. Rotfl.

The never ending complaints about how under paid they are. How the evaluation camp exhausts them. What are the procedures for applying for a Phd. When on earth will they finally get a change in
designation!

It was fun. And revealing. (cant be relieving when the teacher stares at your answer sheet!) What they actually thought about students is what actually we think about ourselves. That was mews to me! I’d love to write more of retests! If only they wouldn’t postpone it. 🙂

The life of a problem

How long can a problem live? Rather, what’s the average life span of the thing that squeezes your brain and crushes your peace of mind and normal course of life? Somebody told me that answer is different for both the genders. For a man, a problem lives till he finds a solution or something close to a solution. But for women, problems are just a night long. After one good sleep, it seems that a woman forgets the previous day’s problems and worries. She’d have had her new set of problems and concerns for the next morning. Just another set of short living woes!

But my thoughts dont seem to concur with it. May be coz my womanhood felt insulted. Or may be just coz I kinda know better! A problem lives in your puny little head until you are done with it. Being done with doesn’t necessarily mean finding a solution to it. It just means being done. Getting over it. Push yourself hard. Till you reach your threshold. Of letting go. Getting over. Freeing yourself, just to fall into newer pathos. Finding closure in your problems. That’s how it works. Focussing onto the issue at hand, encompassing life around it. Some find closure that way. For some others, its slightly different. They leave one issue half way and go in search of another. Dont ask why. Its just their way of finding closure with themselves! 🙂

Problems dont live as long as it lives for you, as for me, as for someone else. Different problems. Different scopes. Different thresholds. But one thing is same. They all take you off your course and rupture your brain. As you, as me, as someone else.