Thinking Out Loud
The weather is converting to a more pleasant, cool crispness that I'm beginning to enjoy. I mean, really. Who wouldn't enjoy wearing sweaters and having an excuse to pour a boiling pot of H2O into the bucket of morning bathwater? Winter is my favorite season of the year, and I believe it has begun here.
I woke up today to high pitched voices chanting "happy birthday". That was at 7:30 am. Of course I had to finish my dream, so I went back to sleep and woke up an hour later. Of course my dream changed, as they have a bad habit of doing after untimely breaks caused by singing children. Speaking of children, they no longer run ahead of me and say my name until I walk by. It's turned into more of an acknowledgement of my presence. "Hi Prigya!" is waved from twenty meters away, no running towards the girl that walks super fast and hops on running buses.
The posters are finally finished, and the exhibition begins tomorrow, while another exhibition ends tomorrow- the Bhopal Handloom Expo in the Haat Bazaar of M.P. Nagar. Stalls from Maharashtra to Rajasthan to Bengal to Kashmir have been set up since the 20th of November until the 30th, overflowing with fabrics that crumple like thin tissue paper, shawls that feel like soft snow, and colors that would make a rainbow look bland. I bought what I needed, a bag to hold my heavy items that would never fit in a dainty little purse. And there my shopping stopped, unlike Kate and Marie Jose who practically purchased half the expo. So I'm exaggerating, but their shopping genes were active in full force tonight. A cultural program was taking place which I enjoyed more than looking at stuff I knew I wasn't going to purchase. A talent show of sorts was being held on a green felt stage, reminding me of the perfectly groomed golf course I was forced to go to every Thursday during senior year of high school. I needed another P.E. credit to graduate, and golf was the only sport that was offered after school that didn't require you to be good at it. So there I was, me and Asma being the only females, desperate to pass this class so we could get out of it, surrounded by a bunch of over-enthusiastic fourteen year old golfers. It was then that I decided it was too boring to be considered an official sport. But that's just my humble opinion.
I woke up today to high pitched voices chanting "happy birthday". That was at 7:30 am. Of course I had to finish my dream, so I went back to sleep and woke up an hour later. Of course my dream changed, as they have a bad habit of doing after untimely breaks caused by singing children. Speaking of children, they no longer run ahead of me and say my name until I walk by. It's turned into more of an acknowledgement of my presence. "Hi Prigya!" is waved from twenty meters away, no running towards the girl that walks super fast and hops on running buses.
The posters are finally finished, and the exhibition begins tomorrow, while another exhibition ends tomorrow- the Bhopal Handloom Expo in the Haat Bazaar of M.P. Nagar. Stalls from Maharashtra to Rajasthan to Bengal to Kashmir have been set up since the 20th of November until the 30th, overflowing with fabrics that crumple like thin tissue paper, shawls that feel like soft snow, and colors that would make a rainbow look bland. I bought what I needed, a bag to hold my heavy items that would never fit in a dainty little purse. And there my shopping stopped, unlike Kate and Marie Jose who practically purchased half the expo. So I'm exaggerating, but their shopping genes were active in full force tonight. A cultural program was taking place which I enjoyed more than looking at stuff I knew I wasn't going to purchase. A talent show of sorts was being held on a green felt stage, reminding me of the perfectly groomed golf course I was forced to go to every Thursday during senior year of high school. I needed another P.E. credit to graduate, and golf was the only sport that was offered after school that didn't require you to be good at it. So there I was, me and Asma being the only females, desperate to pass this class so we could get out of it, surrounded by a bunch of over-enthusiastic fourteen year old golfers. It was then that I decided it was too boring to be considered an official sport. But that's just my humble opinion.
posted by Pragya | 9:09 AM
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