The Mind is its Own Place

:welcome: Sharing moments of optimism and inspiration. Enjoy.

[ritikatrikha]

Social Media is Magical

I'll be the first to admit...I'm addicted to social media. It's baffling how connected everyone can be at a given time. All you need is a common interest. You can converse and share information with people you'd never be able to otherwise.

Allow me to exemplify first-hand excitement:

During the holidays of 2009, my family fell in love with this awesome, hilarious video: 12 Days of Christmas, Indian version. It was produced by someone with the alias BoyMongoose, a comedic Indian Christmas Popstar who remakes carols. (Over 5k subscribers and 8,784,288 views).

My cousins and I loved it so much that a bunch of us got together a couple times before Christmas day to plan and rehearse a flash mob to surprise the rest of our family. Choreographed steps and all, we carried the operation through flawlessly (sort of). Our family loved the surprise! All of this is typical of our family--but when we posted our video on YouTube to share, guess who commented and liked our video? None other than BoyMongoose! We uploaded 2009, he commented in 2010, and we just noticed the comment last week. His props:

"hey i can't believe you went to that much effort. that was brilliant."

Social media rewards action. By taking the time to actually put something out there, we were suddenly on a viral video producer's radar--even if it was just for a moment. Of course, our intention was just to have family fun but the magic of social media helped us catch the eye of the one who inspired us to begin with. Thanks BoyMongoose!

I'll leave you with our video -- started shaky, ended strong:

[ritikatrikha]

Just Call me Padma Lakshmi..

...I actually cooked something! And it tasted delicious (roommates can testify). And no, not slapped some cheese on a tortilla. Or poured some sauce on some pasta. I actually created something out of fragment ingredients, blended them together and baked it to perfection. This is certainly an exciting first--of many more I hope.

I followed this awesome recipe for Spinach, Mushroom, & Ricotta Stuffed Shells-- (Shout out to Food Blogger Tessa for introducing me to this dish and making it sound completely unintimidating.)

I'd also like to thank my mom for handing me a package of giant shells - though I, at first, had no idea what to do with it.

Naturally I recorded the production:

started with coating the baking dish with marinara sauce. Simple:

Then, boiled the pasta, per package instructions.

Meanwhile, chop up mushrooms..

Measured 1/2 cup grated Parmesan (the clock is not accurate).

Ditto with 1/2 of 15oz container of part-skim Ricotta cheese:

Combined chopped spinach (2 cups) and basil (2 tablespoons) and above ingredients together with 1/2 cup mozzarella:

Mix and spoon the mixture into the giant shells (this part makes me feel legit):

Bake for 10 min. Then on high for 2 min until brown:

And voila!

Roomies caught red handed sneaking more!

[ritikatrikha]

A fascinating find...

Letters are one of those life's charming simplicities from which our generation and generations to come are rapidly outgrowing.

In fact, it's coming to the point where hand written letters are becoming out of sight, out of mind. It wasn't until I came across this archive blog of historical "Letters of Note" that I remembered how much more personal, and  thoughtful tangible written letters are than emails/messages/IMs.

The above note is a letter of praise from Audrey Hepburn to musical composer Henri Missini after hearing his musical score for Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Transcript:

Dear Henry, I have just seen our picture – BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S – this time with your score. A movie without music is a little bit like an aeroplane without fuel. However beautifully the job is done, we are still on the ground and in a world of reality. Your music has lifted us all up and sent us soaring. Everything we cannot say with words or show with action you have expressed for us. You have done this with so much imagination, fun and beauty. You are the hippest of cats – and the most sensitive of composers! Thank you, dear Hank. Lots of love Audrey

Though hand-written messages and awaiting letters in the mail has transformed into pokes and tags on Facebook, emails, recommendations on LinkedIn, and reviews that swim among thousands of blogs, it's nice that we can use the same platform to store a fascinating archive of historical letters as well.

Photo credit: LettersofNote

[ritikatrikha]

The art of minimalism

This is a piece of minimalist art recently discovered from the mid-1960s. SF Weekly recently featured this long lost piece, and explained:

"Minimalist artists in this period aimed "to take art to its most fundamental basic existence," Garrels says, by removing as much as possible from their pieces while still preserving an aesthetic of beauty."

Minimalism is my way of life. I try to own as little as possible, eat just enough to satisfy my hunger. Maybe it has to do with my inability to splurge--but if I had a million dollars, I would only buy just enough to live a comfortable--at most upgraded--lifestyle. It's pretty simple: I get overwhelmed easily. Having too much to choose from, an excess of anything triggers an uncontrollable anxiety. To me, less is always more--in deeper ways.

But first, to clarify:

Though I admire gurus and Hindu saints or Amish who are so committed to their  religion to isolate themselves from society only to test their self-endurance by barely surviving on absolute essentials--that is not the form of minimalism I'm talking about.

I'm talking about a 21st century, reasonable, secular minimalism.

Choosing to de-clutter and minimize the physicality of life goes a long way and produces more in the long run. Having less to focus on in the physical world leaves you more internal space to work on your inner being. By eliminating and cutting out the excess, your internal conflicts will lessen to the point of clarity.

It's amazing how much satisfaction you can feel from challenging yourself to make the most out of very little. Finding ways to take simple things and make them versatile gives you an extremely deeper feeling of self-worth than working with an abundance.

It makes sense why some might consider minimalists as old fashion, rejecting the excess of information brought out by the technology age. After all, our 6-way virtual outlets (Social media, email, p2p, eCommerce, online resources, etc.) could easily trigger that overwhelming anxiety. But, it's not about its mere existence in the world wide web. It's about how you approach this access to limitless information--it can still be reasonably minimalistic. One minimalist blog mentions how an iPhone can be minimalist tool. You can consciously use virtual information to cut out the excess notepads, CDs, magazines, etc. that often lay around. But of course, the challenge remains: you have to maintain a resistance to the desire of more than you need.

On the above topic of self-worth--I think getting rid of all the materialistic surplus of stuff does boost your confidence in a much more lasting, and deeper way than something short-lived and superficial like a shiny new mustang would or a 4th pair of Jimmy Choo shoes. Stripping yourself of all of the excess forces you to be comfortable with your inner being.

So, living a minimalistic lifestyle is more than just being economical about the things you buy. Just like the minimalist grid from the 1960s above, the challenge is to cut out as much as possible while still holding your own and persevering a satisfying existence.

Photo Credit: SF Weekly

[ritikatrikha]

Visit Original Link

dreaming of ..Paris Nights & New York Mornings <3

[ritikatrikha]

{ThisisGlamorous}: Plausible Perfect Fiction

. . . as am currently writing to you on a blanket {with books & a cute boy} in the sunshine, it is, admittedly, in the summertime, a little more difficult to get things done, especially while traipsing around in a work-wear wardrobe that includes silk blouses and linen blazers, easy dresses and perfect pencil skirts . . . there is more time for terraces and stops for gelato, sparkling drinks and leisurely walks, and most of all, taking in the soft and hazy moments of summer in the city . . .

It is my belief that roséline, editor & creative director  of {ThisisGlamorous} might as well be made of cotton candy. Contrary to the exquisite perfection of her entire site, her life can't be perfect. But, I absolutely adore her ambition to depict a world where beauty, fashion, class, perfection, and bliss is attainable all at once--void of the realistic and inevitable pitfalls of life. Her photographers are magical. This may be a stretch...but I think such idealistic and impeccable blogs deserve their own sub-genre of plausible perfect fiction.

Plausible--because the figments are derived from pieces of real life. Perfect--because there is nothing short of this in her world. Fiction--because it's too beautiful to be real.

Photo credit: {ThisisGlamorous}

[ritikatrikha]

"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only a page" - Saint Augustine

 via {this is glamorous}

[ritikatrikha]

Repetition is the father of learning... Repetition is the father of learning...

Lil Wayne

[ritikatrikha]

A lot has changed...

...in the past four years.

The 18-year-old girl who hauled her closet to Aberdeen Inverness dorms in September of 2007 is gone. In hindsight, my naivety back then was so ridiculous. Because I was spoiled with some of the most supportive and reliable friends consistently throughout jr. high and high school, I immaturely assumed that everyone in my hall would be the best of friends.

It took less than a quarter for me to realize that this is hardly ever the case. The dorms quickly divide into cliques and everyone clings to their respective niches. I remember the first night of the dorms, I eagerly introduced myself to my neighbors who had a group of friends over. Instead of the welcoming smiles I expected, I remember feeling completely out of place.

Back then, I was the go-with-the-flow girl. At this point, I still hadn't realized that I met my best friends in high school because I was simply lucky enough to have them. I thought that everyone has their support, good nature, and great intentions for me. I didn't know it then, but my second year would teach me this lesson...

During my second year I tried to make it work--I tried to be content in what I was given. But soon enough, I was pushed over the edge by constant negativity and I began feeling frustrated that I couldn't figure out a way to burst out of this bubble that I let form around me. I hated that feeling.

Time went on, and I focused on doing well in my classes, remained committed to my editorial duties at the Highlander Newspaper, and went home most weekends. But still I had that itch. I had that feeling like I wasn't living up to my entire potential. It was the beginning of my third-year that I made the decision to apply to UCDC. Upon my acceptance, I had practically already checked out. Not to say that I am not grateful for the few friends I did make in my bubble--but I was ready to start fresh and take more risks. It was almost as if I had pent up motivation over 2 years to become more cultural, more knowledgeable, and generally try new things.

I remember landing in Dulles Airport. I wanted to save money and be more adventurous so instead of a cab, I took a shuttle to the bus to the metro and then walked 4 blocks to what was my new home for 10 weeks. That feeling of newness is incomparable. It also felt like a freshman year do-over.

It was a defining moment for me; this time, I didn't make the same mistake. I met my roommates, and instead of eagerly assuming anything--I took a different approach. I chose to first get to know the people around me and then decide if they are deserving of my friendship. This helped build my confidence and pretty soon I found myself learning and experiencing new things every day in DC. It was exhilarating. Instead of going with the flow or playing it safe, I made a conscious effort to make friends with people I found interesting--people that wanted to experience new things like I did. I carefully differentiated between those who are best suited as acquaintances and those with whom I can build a real friendship. This new-found confidence resulted in a long-lasting new friendship that is stronger now than ever. It was also such friendships that pushed me to keep trying new things--even study abroad to London and visit Paris, something I never even considered freshman year.

Since then, I've never looked back. Never again will I be too afraid to take action. College has taught me how valuable friendships are. But friendships take effort, cultivation, and a little risk. We are all deserving of great friendships if we are willing to make the effort. I now realize that the lifelong friends I made in jr. high were not because I had any right to such great friends. I was lucky. But you can't always stick with whoever is around. If they do not share your goals and hobbies, they can be destructive to personal growth. So, cut out the negativity. Instead, it's important to base your friendships off of the person that you want to be, because true friends will act as fuel to your confidence in helping you achieve the best version of you.

But of course, I could never regret any of my past decisions because each has led me to a greater understanding of the value behind friendship. As I prepare to graduate, I'm bracing myself for rougher paths. Everyone will disperse into different directions after graduation, and it will take more effort now--than ever before--to maintain strong friendships and seek out new, deserving people with whom I can explore new experiences.

Photo credit: adamblueproductions.com

[ritikatrikha]

One of my favorite writers...

Penelope Trunk

When I found her blog, I did not stop reading her work for the rest of the afternoon. Her writing is bold, raw, true, and actually helpful. In fact, she somehow answers every question I've been thinking about lately ever since I made the decision to improve my writing and start this blog.

Her advice is groundbreaking and far from cliche. She's had an amazing amount of life experience (created 3 successful Internet start-ups--she was 2 blocks away from the Twin Towers when they fell--she's had 2 marriages, 2 kids, abortions, bankruptcy, unbelievable success, miscarriages, and so much more).

But this life experience is combined with great, RAW writing that has a very clear purpose: to help others grapple with problems, especially ones that no one likes to talk about.

Also, for those of us who are just now beginning our careers, she is looking out. From Romance to Career Path, she's got unmatched advice.  Her career advice runs in 200 newspapers. Inc. Magazine called her "the world's most influential guidance counselor," according to her website. 

In fact, she has a section devoted on "How to Blog"--which seems like such an obvious concept, but I think the title really means "How to Blog Effectively" Here's my favorite excerpt of what she has to say:

I think you should write the truth. Be real. If you obsess about redemption instead of the truth, you’ll be like me, writing nothing, because life is not redemptive. Life isn’t like that. Just write your own messy life, and let it spill out.

But, wait. Here’s the problem with that. Your life is boring. I’m sorry to tell you this. But actually all our lives are boring. Which is another strike against obsessing over redemption: it doesn’t make your life interesting, but good writing always makes life interesting.

So you need to tell something true to make people want to read, but you need to be interesting doing it.

This concept of writing truth instead of writing about little redemptive life lessons is something I want to try. It makes sense. Not many of us are experts on life. But it's easy to try and make it seem as if we are as we tell our stories. The truth is that none of us will be right all the time. All of us will make mistakes--and that's the truth. The truth, to me, always makes for the most interesting writing.

One of Penelope's most interesting posts, for instance, is on how she had a miscarriage during a high-stress board meeting. Many commentators were offended by this unpleasant truth. But, rather than concluding her story with any sort of life lesson, she further exposes the truth about how common women in their 40s have this traumatic experience. No one talks about it. In another post, she talks about her experience during one pregnancy when her agents actually suggested that she abort because her career was booming. These are the problems that working women face, and no one talks about them. I like her honesty. I like how she's not perfect. 

Her entire basis of success is on community. We should be able to talk about these things because we are all experiencing some sort of truth.

Photo credit: PersonalBrandingBlog.com

[ritikatrikha]

On mastering the undergraduate English major...

5.28.2011

My final Finals Week is right around the corner. I decided to start studying this 3-day weekend, which took a lot of willpower personally because most other seniors are having the time of their life as I write this sentence. But that's really okay. Truth be told, I'm starting to feel extremely sad and prematurely nostalgic because these are my last couple papers that I will write forever. As of right now, I have no plans of furthering my degree in English in the next few years, so this really is it.

I'm taking my time. I'm soaking it in. I'm dedicating this weekend and the next to write my 20-page honors thesis (on the multiplicity of language) and my 10-pager on British Postcolonialism. Because as an English major who is going to graduate in just a few weeks, I can confidently say that I've mastered the art of close reading and writing analytical papers.

I'm not really sure of the stereotypes from which the English major suffers, but this is how I imagine it: Those who are not knowledgeable about the major overall often mistake the typical English major as one who immerses him or herself only in literature, may wear outdated clothing, and often quotes late poets and philosophers casually in conversation--sitting in coffee shops, writing and reading furiously, constantly. I do not fit this stereotype. Instead, what I mean when I say that I've mastered the major is that I've learned how to write an A-paper. 

I've learned that attending lecture is important not to gain insight on the text itself, but to figure out what the professor would want in a paper. 

Think about it, the professor or TA will grade about an average of 50-70 papers per midterm/final, at least at a school with at least 20,0000 students like UCR. Chances are, he or she has developed a method of differentiating between A, B, C, etc. papers that realistically takes less effort than the grueling work we all put into our papers. Each professor is different in what they consider an A-paper and they are entitled to grading however they want.

Pay attention to their teaching style. Are they by-the-book or do they encourage class discussions to drive the course? Most professors who present specific theories and concepts in a textual manner expect that you both: show that you have a good understanding of the concepts and apply it contextually. The easiest professors are ones that let you construct your own prompt and are fairly laze fair. They are more impressed if you come up with your own theories and ideas based on what we talked about in class. Some professors are irked by small grammar mistakes, some can look past a couple blunders because they assume by now you know how to construct a proper sentence. 

One professor was extremely impressed with my essay because the paper was on a performance piece that she gave in class in relation to the plays we read. I realized that the professor enjoyed showcasing her knowledge in an exhibitionist way and would appreciate a paper that dissected her facial expressions. So I paralleled the transitions of her expressions to a character arch of a play that we read. 

The rest of your grade is about how well you can analyze the texts read in class in relation to the concepts and theories learned simultaneously. Also, it depends on how well you can actually write.

For many cases, higher education isn't really about memorizing facts, texts, quotes, or theories. I think it's about learning how to learn effectively and problem solving skills. Of course, many English majors might have gained an entirely different lesson from our English classes, but, for me--above all--I focused on how to pin point what the situation calls for and how to access resources to make it happen.

Photo credit: Tuition.com 

[ritikatrikha]

2 Thumbs Up for Cocoa Cola

Not many people typically remember what that first sip of Coca Cola tastes like.

I do.

I was 7 years old in a relative's apartment one summer evening in 1996. My extended family gathered for some occasion or another. The room was crowded full of what might as well have been strangers to me. It must have been only a few months since I was living in the US because I remember feeling a bit lonely.

An elder cousin laid out a giant, white floral sheet on the floor of the bedroom. A group of around 6-8 of my cousins sat merrily atop it, sitting Indian-style with dinner paper plates in front of them. Loud chatter filled the air as my cousins cracked jokes and shared stories. They were speaking a little too fast for me to catch on. Everything around me was moving swiftly, but I just stared at my plate. All I wanted to do was go home and play with my dolls.

Just then, I noticed my eldest cousin distributing some sort of canned cold drink. ("Cold drink" is the word we used for "soda" in India.) But I had never seen it in a can before--only glass bottles. The cans came straight from the cooler and had clear ice cold beads of water dripping along its edges. One by one, my cousin asked each of the kids if they wanted one. Every one of them eagerly opted to catch the can as she tossed it--no question.

She made eye contact with me signaling that I was on deck...

Still, I was stunned when it was my turn. She looked at me, I looked at the can. It looked familiar--reminiscent of the Thumbs Up cola drink popular in India, which I disliked because it was bitterly strong. As this thought rushed through my brain, I turned to my brother for an answer, as I habitually do. He was busy drinking this Coca Cola from a can too. By now, my cousin repeated again with a tone of urgency: "Do you want it or not? Yes? No?" I paused..I looked back at the can. A reassured "yes" I replied, trying to fake a confidence in my answer. I didn't tell them I had never tried this beverage before--I wanted to fit in.

And so she tossed it and I caught it, fumbling with the metal device at first. After finally popping it open, I was ready. I took my first sip of Coca Cola. I remember feeling relieved that it's nothing like Thumbs Up. It was sweet, but fizzy. The cold metal of the can against my lips played well with the rough carbonation touching my tongue. Soon after a few sips, I felt a jolt of energy in a state of excitement. I finally found something I liked in this unfamiliar place surrounded by strange people. I was, for once, happy sitting with my new-found cousins sipping on some Coke, living in America.

Photo credit: media.Photobucket.com

[ritikatrikha]

My Favorite Childhood Memory

I re-discovered this recently. This was my hand at creative writing sophomore year in college. At the beginning of the intro course I took, the professor asked us to jot down one goal that we wanted to achieve as creative writers--Mine was to "write something that people would want to read more than once." 

I was pretty ecstatic when she chose my piece to read aloud in front of the 250+ classroom. Here it is:

   After a bumpy and rugged ride, the rickshaw abruptly stopped in front of a narrow alley filled with hundreds of people. Mama carefully stepped out of the wagon and quickly grabbed my hand as I jumped onto the broken street. I looked up at the scorching sun; I would even exchange my favorite Barbie Doll that my auntie sent all the way from America, for just a millisecond of a cool breeze. Mama, in her gentle voice, thanked the rickshaw driver and paid him for his troubles. He wiped his sweaty, grimy face with the back of his palms and I watched his ailing body ride away.

Mama, still holding my hand, led me through the crowd of old and wrinkled villagers. The scent of foul body odor and animal dung made me plug my nose as hard as I could. I could only hear the muffled voices of countless people bargaining angrily with merchants. Several beggars, with their skin hanging loosely on their thin bones, approached mama in hopes of receiving something, anything. We hurried past a row of vendors yelling to get mama's attention, as if they were caged in with an angry lion—desperately screaming for help.

We finally stopped in front of a shop where hundreds of colorful, traditional bangles and earrings were displayed. They were stars, gleaming just out of reach. I heard mama arguing and bargaining with the seller for what seemed like an eternity. Puzzled, I saw the tall, bearded man kneel down and measure my small wrist with a measuring tape. Soon afterwards, I felt mama's familiar hand in mine as she slipped a sparkling piece of metal on my wrist.

At that moment, despite the unbearable summer heat, or the dirty, crowded street, I was in the most excited state of mind in my entire four years of existence. I looked at mama's face as she was tightening the clasp, and wondered if this were a dream? As I gazed at it and traced the intricate designs with the tips of my fingers, I realized that this was as real as the tears that filled mama's eyes. I could feel my heart racing as mama and I shared a warm embrace. Holding on to her hand tighter than ever before, I walked away in awe with my first piece of jewelry.

[ritikatrikha]

Racism, sexism, and now majorism?

I've met too many hard science majors with a condescending mindset towards those who are studying fields in humanities. The mere enrollment in hard science classes is in no way a signifier of intelligence. It's only impressive if your performance is up to par. Science and math classes are hard--we get it. But in the end, there's really no point in belittling Humanities majors or categorizing them as worthless and deficient just because their studies are less demanding. 

It doesn't help in achieve anything, nor does it introduce new ideas to consider. 

The only possible benefit of castigating other majors is to make one feel more credible and praise-worthy. If it helps to stay motivated to believe a hard science major is smarter, more hardworking than students in other majors--then the desire to excel in that field stems far from a genuinely honest place. 

  If you truly believe that studying and excelling in science is the most important and beneficial contribution that you can offer to society, then you would do just that--excel. Downgrading other majors plays no role in achieving this goal. 

The truth is, one can never truly compare the intelligence of a lethargic, biological science major on academic probation with a hardworking, straight-A English major. It really doesn't matter what the major is because each field demands inimitable expectations from its students. But even more important than that, it's completely arbitrary to generalize and group the study habits of thousands of students just by their major. This stigma attached to the English major has been long standing among biased math and science majors. English is not an "easy" major--it is challenging in its own depths and incomparable to science majors. 

It's like apples and oranges, but you gotta have both: one is not conclusively superior than the other.  I think the biggest, most definitive difference between fields in science versus fields in the Humanities is the lack of personalization or application of human interrelations in science fields. Majors like English, sociology, anthropology and psychology monitor and analyze the behavior among people in the real, sociable world. Scientists and mathematicians, on the other hand, while they discover undoubtedly essential, technical functions of organisms, are completely distant from the normal, real world. This isn't to say that science isn't applicable to the real world at all--it obviously is, but if we relied solely on the technical functions, we would lack a complete and comprehensive understanding about the world. 

My grandma was a psychology professor at a university in India. She made an excellent point that even though such narrow-minded biological science majors may feel that abstract ideas are useless to society, these soon-to-be doctors will eventually learn themselves that possessing an open mind and understanding human behaviorism will be just as critical to their career when they are practicing on patients one-on-one. It's just a matter of time until they will learn that science--though it is undeniably critical--science alone, is not enough.

The greatest minds alive were abstract philosophers. Without Fernande de Saussure, we would have never learned the significance behind semiotics and how this structuralism in language acts as a window to culture and society's progression. I concede that such cultural theory and interpretation would not stand in this world alone, but likewise, science and math would not be as effective if great minds like Aristotle did not apply fundamental principles to society.

  In the end, however, reprehending other majors only displays a sense of insecurity and weakness in regards to one's own abilities. This goes for any topic--the only accomplishment that achieved by talking badly about other people is to make one's self feel superior. This need for reassurance is a definite sign of major insecurities.  

Photo credit: Newsweek 

[ritikatrikha]

Splurge

I've always felt that pinpointing character flaws is as subjective as deciding whether or not you like Sushi--there's a variety of reasons why some people don't like it. Despite this relativity, my current unemployed disposition has allowed me to come to the conclusion that one of my biggest character flaws is that I'm stingy when it comes to money. I absolutely hate that I'm the most reluctant when it comes to spending money out of anyone I know. Obviously the fact that my family has always experienced constant financial struggle plays a huge role, but it doesn't take long to cross the fine line between sensible money management and obsessive penny-pinching that often stomps on my social life. I'm so far past the line, the line is a dot to me. But I can't help it. I hate spending money, let alone wasting it. I have to be reassured that the amount of money I put in is directly proportionate to the value that I place on the item that I'm purchasing. The more I describe this character flaw, the less it seems like an actual problem--but it is. Given that I rarely like to spend money, I conclude that I lack enough substance in my life to which I can place infinite value. In other words, there's nothing that I'm so passionate about that I can freely say "money's no object," without experiencing a gut-wrenching flip in my stomach. That's what I want: something worth making that feeling go away. I've always hated that saying "money can't buy you happiness," --because it definitely can. If I had the money, I'd buy my friends expensive gifts and we'd all be happy. Money isn't everything but it causes a huge damp in your life if you posses a lack thereof--just like love, whatever that is. I admire impulse shoppers--they go with their gut. Me, I stare at a shirt for 5 minutes and try it on multiple times before I go home to think about it and see if I feel the same way the next day. It doesn't affect my social life as much as I am making it seem. I mean, I can muster up enough strength to go out and spend money while we're hanging out once in a while but my stinginess kicks in when we start making plans to up the frequency of our outings. I need to start working on doing what makes me happy, not doing what costs the least for the most fun.  

Photo credit: casinocreditplay.com

[ritikatrikha]

Think less, do more.

I just spent the last hour hashing out a topic that I knew nothing about with my superior. I was caught off guard and forced to develop a clear and concise topic format in a way that business owners would find interesting. Somehow, the extenuating circumstance forced my mind to wrap itself around the concept and ideas started flowing. By the end of the phone call--I felt like I could argue any concept to an impressive extent with anyone--it's a good feeling. It's always best to think less and do more--my quality of work is so much more impressive when I haven't had the chance to analyze every possible aspect of the task at hand. Granted a backdrop of reason is necessary as a prerequisite to act as a driving force in order for natural abilities to surface. That, coupled with the positive feedback of others is enough to suppress insecurities and push down possible what-ifs and instead, reach down within ourselves and find what's necessary to live up to the presented expectation. No room for doubt. Someone smart once told me that it's best to be around smarter individuals with higher expectations for themselves because eventually, you'll learn to own up to their level. This is probably the best advice I've ever gotten. But it's easy to become overwhelmed and lose self confidence. This where the think less, do more philosophy comes in--take the leap of faith, forget the fact that you could potentially fail. If you fail, you'll just try again after targeting where you went wrong. Confidence develops when you aren't racking your brain worrying about the possible negative consequences. Recently I noticed that my belly button piercing was starting to close--it had been a day and a half that it was ring-less and it just wasn't going through all the way. Immediately I started panicking thinking about the money lost and the money it'll cost to re-pierce. Using this as a force, I stopped thinking and started taking action. I learned that I can endure incredible heights in an effort to prevent money loss: I poked through myself. This sounds crazy and if I actually decided to sit down and think about the pros and cons, I would undoubtedly be missing $80+ from my account on re-piercing expenses. I wasn't about to let it close and leave a dark hole on my skin--so I found no other choice. But after those two minutes of pain, a burden was lifted. I'm not a masochist--I just really hate wasting money and the end result ignited that I-can-endure-anything feeling--It really is a good feeling. "Action may not always bring happiness; but there is no happiness without action." - Benjamin Disraeli

Photo credit: Webmd.com 

[ritikatrikha]

First comes marriage?

Granted they've gone through unusually tough times, my parents' relationship is wonderful--but you'd never know it. There's an air of unmistakable love when they're simply together at home. Their day-to-day conversations indicate and reflect their contented feelings of comfort and simple happiness. They look forward to talking to one another and although neither care much for being social butterflies, they've had each other to depend on through turbulent times, to say the least, and that's all they need. But, my parents had an arranged marriage. Why is it that the divorce rate for typical love-marriages is so much higher than that of traditional arranged marriages? Obviously the stigma attached to divorces in traditional cultures play a huge role in the disparity but I can't help but wonder if maybe that's a good thing? If my parents weren't traditional, chances are that at some point, one of them would have had enough--anyone would have. Instead, they strengthened their bond by overcoming each hurdle--together. Untraditional love-marriages seem to make divorce papers act as what may seem like the only solution to a marital problem. Traditional arranged marriages allow the man and wife to learn to love each other, but the love doesn't seem to stop growing--it only seems to grow stronger with every twist life throws at them. My parents are living proof of this. So if two people who don't know each other are capable of growing endless love for each other throughout the course of 26 years, does that mean you can throw any two individuals who merely liked each other's photo and chances are that they will grow a loving bond? There are countless successful arranged marriages that support this theory. If this is true, then why are we all set out to find "the one?" Numerous chick-flicks and even real couples that claim they are in love seem to believe that a couple falls in love because they are compatible, they are just right for each other--they've found their soul mate. The traditional mindset defines love as something that you learn and grow as you nurture your life-long partner. On the other hand, the untraditional mindset actively seeks love and settles for nothing less than someone who completes him or her. According to the traditionalist, the latter is simply looking for something that could be cultivated within any man. But I've decided that the ideal marriage would be a TRADITIONAL love-marriage. Traditional in the sense that the stigma is still attached to divorce and it will act as a force to overcome marital hurdles together, resulting in an even stronger bond. It seems logical that if my parents started off with zero love 26 years ago undoubtedly feel a strong loving bond now, then a marriage that started with a strong bond would only gain infinite strength two decades later. The most impacting distinction however is that love marriages seem to demand unreal expectations from the man you marry. We all want the perfect love story with our prince charming and a happy ending. This mindset kicks aside the fact that marital problems occur in every marriage. Arranged marriages on the other hand generally assume that contentions are bound to occur since there's no painted picture of what the marriage will be like. So, this all essentially goes back to that saying -- lower expectations will bring greater happiness. There is no prince charming because nobody's perfect. It's about finding someone who understands you, who cares about you, who has similar goals as you, and who changes and grows with you. Traditional or not, true love will drive you to understand, care, and nurture. It's nice to believe that we have a predestined, perfect match for each of us. Who's to say that it wasn't written in the stars that my dad would marry my mom. After all, of all the women he might have married, he chose my mom and vice versa. But at the same time, it's only self-destructing to wait around for an alleged prince charming.

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