Where I am now....

I really wanted to do an update post.  Fact is there is nothing much to update about.  Well nothing dramatic anyway.

To put things into a nutshell - no it is not working for us, we tried.  We hardly talk to each other now.  No we don't hate each other.  Yes we still live in the same house but have separate bedrooms.  Let's say we are cordial.  Where am I going to with this and what am I going to do?  I have no blooming clue.  Am I going to be stressed over it? NO.

So there goes the update.  In the meanwhile other things have been happening in life.  Nice stuff.  Once I understood the source of my expectations, wants and requirements, things seemed pretty simple.  I have been buying things like crazy - dresses and shoes.  Last year I was dead frugal, but this year I have decided to splurge.  I have a few girl friends and go out with them occasionally.  I no longer obsess over keeping the house neat and clean all the time.  It helps that I no longer think of this house as mine - I have let go of that.  I am just a paying guest now minus the paying.

I have started running again - 5K is very doable these days.  I am moving to a new assignment within the company.  The new position sounds really exciting - Plant Manager.  Yes I will be the person with the safety shoes and hat.  The office is located close to home and I will no longer require to work from home.  Just the thought of going to the office twice or thrice a week and dressing up for it thrills me.   For the first time I will be reporting to someone way younger than me (or at least he looks very young).  Did I mention that my immediate boss is extremely good looking?  Now before you think up of something - No I don't shit where I eat.  A lesson learnt a very long time back!

Is life looking good?  Where I came from and where I am at this very second - I believe so.

Maybe I might rant a bit in the next post.  I am just getting the hang of writing again.

Me and Mean? Surely Not......

Today the conversation at office was about the meanest thing that each of us has ever done. Now I could say stories, many many stories about my younger days; not about being mean, but about how hard I tried at being a mean and cunning person. To me being meanness somehow represents a street-smart person capable of conning anyone and getting his / her things done.

There is this one incident etched in my memory. At the age of 12, I stole the pocket money of a class mate of mine. I had forgotten to bring my lunch box and I was so hungry by lunch time that there seemed to be no other way but to steal that money. I remember returning to the classroom with a sandwich in hand and seeing this class-mate crying. When queried she said that she was feeling so hungry (just like me) and that somebody has stolen the money her mom had given her for lunch.

So what did I do? Turned to her and told her that I had a sandwich that I just didn’t feel like eating and whether she would like to have it? Her face lit up like the night sky with thousands of sparkling diamonds. Will I ever forget it that look and the relief I felt. Never and that was the end of my plans of trying to be a mean person. Sure I had been mean, but somehow the universe had other plans for me.

Alright now fast forward to four years back: I can be mean and I have been mean and I still have that small meanness in me. I don’t want to go too much into detail as this is something about me that I find difficult to accept. Through some crooked ways, I got the email password of DH’s ex-wife. So what do you do when you have someone’s email password – you go through their emails right? This is exactly what I did. Sure enough I got enough evidence to show DH that he was being royally used. You see very rarely do I call a person ugly – but DH’s ex-wife is ugly – both as a person and in looks.

To make a long story short, let’s say that I keep myself updated on what happens in “Her” life. These days snooping into her inbox and reading her mails is like reading a never ending novel, like one of those hindi serials. So many things have happened in her life and I am the silent bystander. Sometimes I feel her pain (at not getting a partner and having kids yet), some times I feel like shaking her and asking her what the hell she was doing. But who am I? Just some one who got to marry her ex-husband.

No, I am not proud of what I did and even what I am doing. And there are no excuses for it.