2019: Nineteen

This is apparently my 365th post on this blog-thing, and I saw that number and giggled to myself for a couple of minutes. I was supposed to accomplish writing 365 posts through 2017, so it felt like my failure just looked at me in the face for a couple of seconds and said “hey, you needed two extra years to finish what you wanted to.” I smiled.

That’s the beauty about personal projects and a life trajectory, I think. Society creates expectations of you. Finish projects. If you want to be a writer, write in this specific way, or do this specific act. There’s a lot of dictates about how you should do what you want to do. Sometimes it can get frustrating, and feel suffocating. But that’s when it’s important to remember that with personal projects, and with your own life – you’re allowed to dictate your paces. You’re allowed to treat yourself in the manner you would like to, and take advice from people the way you’d like to.

It’s lovely. I’m still mightily happy that I got to writing this much, because it means I’ve tried. For me, that’s a reward in itself.

But I’ll meet my numerical goals one day, and I’ll definitely be happier when I hit that target.

In other news, today I purchased chappals from Adidas. And yes, that does sound extremely fancy. Who wears foreign branded chappals? They were on 50% discount and felt incredibly comfortable. Those are my only criteria. I am cheap and brand-blind. Do not hate.

As I purchased them though, I began to think about how much hostel life has changed me. I never wore slippers at home till I was in Grade 7. There was someone selling these slippers that would help create an arch in your feet and we thought it was worth exploring whether it might remedy my flatfoot, and that, I think was the first time I started wearing house slippers. Till then it was just bare feet at home.

And even when I got those chappals, it’s not like I wore them all the time. Sometime I left my feet loose. Because I wanted to let them go wild.

In the hostel though? Never.

I’ve actually never been barefoot in my room, or in others’ rooms. Nor in the bathroom stalls where I bathe. The only time I’m barefoot is when I’m sitting someplace and my feet are off the ground.


I think it’s a lot to do with the discomfort of staying in a place that isn’t originally your own. Or the fact that chappals are ridiculously comfortable.


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