I know that I really need to be writing more often, but I suppose this is what happens if writing is a major part of your day job! Also, this is what happens when you get used to restricting yourself to 140 characters *glares at a certain micro-blogging site*
Back when I was in college..
(Sorry, I couldn’t resist)
.. my friends would joke about my obsession to stay organized. In final year, this was symbolized by my kick-ass pink folder which a friend gave me as a christmas present.The fact that it contained all my notes and handouts never translated into me getting the highest marks or anything amazingly special. At the end of the day, it was just a folder filled with plastic sheets that held a whole bunch of papers – some of which I probably looked at only the night before an exam.
Yet, I loved my folder to death. I insisted on carrying my heavy, large folder with me everyday even when I really didn’t have to. It was a source of comfort – and not just because it was candy pink. It just reminded me of my faith in structure, in planning, in being efficient. These things have become so important to me over the past couple of years, and it’s only hitting me seriously now. Although I love the fact that I am done with college, and everything else that goes with it, I hate waking up to an unplanned day. I hate not having to anything to fill into my organizer. My days are as empty as my folder, now.
It feels like my life is unhinged. I know that I need to be out there like the rest of my classmates, making a case for myself as a potential employee. I know I need to say the right lines, the words are in my head, but somehow it just isn’t happening. It’s new, and strange and I hate it. And it angers me. I’ve always believed that I knew exactly where I want to be. My life was like my folder, each compartment filled with content that needed to be dealt with at a certain time.
And now it feels like the papers are all over the place, blowing in the wind, and I am just watching them fly away.
A large part of this is my fault. This is really hard for me to admit, but for the first time in ages, I don’t know how to take the next step. What do I want to do? I fell in love with the idea of marketing communications in my final semester. The fact that you, as a communicator, play such a large role in the way a product is conceptualised, created and marketed is exciting. Starting from the beginning, the research that goes into who your consumer is, their tastes and preferences, your competition. Then the product itself, giving it an identity, a persona that is going to cater to this consumer. The packaging, the advertising, the consuming, the feedback. The power of communications has always enticed me, but translating that power using only creative writing has never appealed to me. For me, the idea of marketing communications gives structure to this power that “communication” offers. A structure and framework to work within, with goals to meet and results that are quantifiable. These are concepts that define the way I work, which is why I believe that marketing communications is an area I want to work in. Of course, this is all just an idealistic impression of what I have of the profession and I might be thoroughly wrong, but in any case, this is the kind of field I want to work in
But taking the “next step” hasn’t come to me so easily and smoothly. I’ve sent my CV to a couple of places, and I’m still waiting to hear from some of them, but if any of you out there reading this have any ideas on what you think I should do next, or may know of any opportunities that you think I might apply to then PLEASE let me know!
I’m officially a graduate!
Now I can dispense college-related advice I might say things like ..
My first collection of writing!
This is a collection I wrote for my final semester writing portfolio. Each piece is a reflection of what I have felt/seen/heard/experienced while traveling through Bangalore using BMTC (Bangalore Metropolitan Transport Corporation) buses. To download as .pdf, click here.
I wrote this short story as part of my Writing Portfolio for college. I don’t usually write short stories, but I had a lot of fun writing this one. It contains a wee bit of swearing ( you can thank my limited knowledge of Hindi swear words), so be warned! Continue reading
On Friday March 25th, I graduated from Mount Carmel College, Bangalore. Well technically, I still have to give my VI Semester exams in April but let’s just leave that aside for the moment!
Who have I been, the last three years?
I was a film maker. I agonized over the story, the casting, the music, the editing. I spent a couple of evenings hiding in the editing room with my group, huddled up in front of the Mac as we fixed last minute glitches. There was even an evening where one nice member of the support staff let us stay on, on the condition that we needed to keep all the lights off as it was way past gate-shutting time. I sat on location with my shot-breakdown and screenplay, changing dialogues and re-changing them. I yelled and screamed when things didn’t make sense. The night before screening day, I didn’t sleep, I spent the night wondering what reactions we’d get. I cried when I watched my film being screened in front of a full auditorium. I felt pride when I heard the praises, and took deep breaths to calm myself down when I listened to the critics.
Somehow, the past couple of months have gotten me so “consumed” by “the system” that I’m really wondering if the whole creative-person-who-can-write thing was a really long phase, and maybe I’m really meant to be one of those people who sits behind a desk and stays there for long periods of time.
But then I would be one of those people with a desk filled with stacks of post-it’s. The pen stands (yes, for there will be many) will be full of highlighters of every conceivable colour, correction pens that actually DO WORK (as opposed to the ones that give up half through when you’re trying to obliterate the word ‘orgasm’ when you really meant to write ‘organism’), and gel pens (gel, not ball point or fountain although I’d love to use a fountain pen except I write super fast and you know, that’s not conducive. A fountain pen must never be abused like that) in red, green and black. Not blue, I hate blue pens for some strange reason. Black seems more classy, don’t you think? And oh, my desk would probably be wooden since I don’t see myself sitting behind a cold, character-less metal one.
That wouldn’t do at all.
I haven’t missed you, although I’d love to say that I thought about you everyday.
The start to 2010 was totally kick ass, if I may say so. I went to Mangalore, attended the most romantic + fun wedding EVER, and generally had the time of my life. Also, I got to wear a pretty purple dress, which of course is a highlight!
Then, I came home to a brand new shiny silver 8 GB iPod 5G Nano which I have christened Zora. She now finds a permanent place in my pocket. I have discovered that life is so much more fun when it’s got its own soundtrack. Plus, I get to NOT hear all the sooperdooper kannada hits some men seem to think is ”flattering” to sing when a girl walks past them on the road.
All this has managed to distract me from the fact that I turn *shudder* thatdreadedage this year.
I also know that this is a bit random, but some teachers just KILL my love for poetry with their ‘listen-to-me-I-am-going-to-tell-you-the-meaning-of-this-poem’ attitude. Poetry needs to be discovered, woman. It’s not fair that you get to THRUST your ‘understanding’ of it on anybody just because you want to feel like you deserve that pay cheque at the end of the month.