The Game

 Today, I learnt that meetup groups are a place where men actively prospect for dates. After meeting someone they are interested in at a meetup event, it is quite normal for men to drop them a message asking them out for a coffee. Its not that I thought these things didn't happen. Its just that I didn't think it was very common. Come to think of it, it makes perfect sense. Why shouldn't single people prospect for a relationship. But, it does make me feel a bit alienated from the scene. I haven't met anyone whom I have felt like messaging after a meetup. Its not that there are any attractive women on these meetups. Its just that I haven't felt that spark with anyone yet. Maybe I don't make enough of an effort to talk to women at these events. Maybe I should make a point to talk to all the women I find attractive. We still live in a heteronormative world where men are expected to do the hunting, to put it very crudely. I was hoping to finish on a positive, uplifting note, but can't think of anything right now. For the next five days, my dating life will have to take a back seat. I have a job to land, and I am determined to do my damndest to land it. 

Clocks Go Forward 2023

The clocks go forward tonight, marking the end (hopefully) of an exceptionally cold winter. The cold has given way to storms, so things haven't started to look up on the weather front. But, as is my tradition, I use these occasions to reflect on the time since the last clock change. I don't have a blog entry for the end of British Summer Time 2022 because it was during my lean blogging phase. So, I went back to my posts before that. And, I have reached the conclusion that life is much better than it was during 2020 and 2021. That might seem like not a very surprising. But, caught up in one's current problems and tribulations, it is easy to forget. I have been on bit of a melancholy phase lately, so its an important reminder that life is on the upswing, even if I can't tell from the inside. I have managed to move out of my previous accommodation and put my housemates from hell out of sight and out of mind. Next up is a job interview, which I am going to do my damndest to ace. So, yes, I might still be single and occasionally lonely, and wish I had more and better friends, but that doesn't mean everything is shite.  

Last Day of Teaching Before Easter

 I was hoping that no one would turn up for today's class, but I was wrong. They did turn up, and they were even more bored and unenthusiastic than usual. I got yawned at, and two girls started chatting while I was lecturing. Since there were just about 10-12 people in the classroom, I was a bit miffed. I was also quite unhappy with the lecture I had prepared, and if I had the time, energy and the inclination, I would have completely revamped it. The bollocking I got on Monday for crossing the picket line has snuffed what little joy I would find in teaching. But, I suppose that is just the fatigue talking. Eight straight weeks of teaching can be quite tiring, even though I feel like my teaching load is pretty manageable. If I get the UWE job, my teaching load will likely be much heavier. But, we will cross that bridge when we reach it. No point in worrying about it for now. 

How to Punch Down and Punch Up at The Same Time

I tell my friends from other countries that India has so many overlapping layers of oppression that it is possible to punch down at the same time. Exhibit A: this evening I watched a stand-up routine on Youtube poking fun at Modi by mocking chowkidars. It takes guts to make fun of Modi, so respect to the comedian. But, punching down at chowkidars? Not cool. at the risk of sounding patronizing, I am sure the comedian did not realise he was punching down. Punching down is a huge element in Indian comedy. Making fun of disabled people, dark-skinned people, fat people,  is par for the course. So, jokes aimed at lower castes/classes is not surprising. Thinking about these things makes me feel sanctimonious, and I don't enjoy feeling that way. 

Last Day As a Scab

 Today was (hopefully) my last day as a scab. There will be no further strikes in the current academic year, unless there are wildcat strikes after Easter. And, in the next academic year, I hopefully won't be in this department. I am one of the single handful of union members in the department, and all the other members are more senior to me. They are not striking, so I don't see how I can. I am sure there are people who would have acted differently to me in the same situation. But, I am not brave enough or angry enough to strike on my own. Every time there have been strikes over the past year and a half, I have felt terrible for scabbing. During the previous round of strikes, I had vowed to strike the next time. Sadly, I did not keep that promise. But, I am soon hoping to join a department where striking doesn't involve sticking my neck out to this extent. I was called a scab recently by an acquaintance, and the sting from her words is still with me. I am trying to turn my anger at her into motivation to do well in an upcoming job interview. I know I am not a firebrand. If and when the revolution comes, I will be in the mob, but I won't be int he vanguard. 

Back to blogging (Again)

 I've written before about how I am going to get back to blogging and this time I really mean it. I have realised that I am a more angtsy and unsettled person when I don't have blogging as an outlet for my overthinking. Instead of having thoughts bounce around in my head, I can put them down and observe them from a distance. Blogging helps me know myself better and come to terms with the physical, emotional and spiritual world I inhabit. And, its not just a safety valve, it is an enjoyable experience. I have enjoyed writing for as long as I can remember. So, I have hit upon a method to encourage me to write everyday. A huge problem for me was on days when I didn't have an obvious blogging idea, I would much around on the internet, and before I would know it, I would have doomscrolled for an hour. So, from now on, I am going to set a timer for 15 minutes. The timer will give me the nudge I need to either come up with something to write, or to read past blogs. 15 minutes is an ideal chunk of time, long enough to come up with a decent blog entry, but not that long to seem like a drag. I am confident that my return to blogging this time is for real. 

On SInglehood

 A Bristol-based poet whom I follow on Twitter wrote a post on singlehood that spoke for me and to me. She spelt out thoughts that I hadn't dared to articulate even to myself. |That sometimes mild sometimes gnawing ache of having never been in a relationship, of not having being through that essential human experience. There are so many lines that chimed with me and there is so much pain, intelligence and wisdom in it that I copy-pasted each tweet because she had said she might delete it in a few days.