My Weird Christmas Wish List

So I came across a video of a painting in progress today, on a blog that my friend directed me to. Check it out, it's actually a pretty cool blog.

First of all, I am highly jealous of the girl who writes the blog. Her unique tastes in fashion, music, and art give her something to write about, whereas I sit on the floor of my too-small room, looking around aimlessly, desperately searching for something unique in my life.

I'm going to Germany in a week. I'm really looking forward to blogging about that.

Anyway, this video that I came across, it was of an artist, Steven Lopez, from Pasadena, California, painting one of his original paintings from a project called The After Midnight Series, a series of paintings that pay homage to Neo-soul songstresses.




I don't know why I was so drawn to this painting montage, but once again, I was hit with an urge to spontaneously make something creative. I see a brilliant photograph by a brilliant photographer, and I want to take up photography. I see a great movie, and I want to be a director. Right now. Get me some actors.

I actually have a manila folder under my bed with sketches and rough drafts of short movies I would like to make some time in the future.

If I could, I would simultaneously act, dance, sing, direct, photograph, blog, film, document, paint something, while touring France, Ghana, South America, Prague, London, Australia all at the same time. Goddamn, if they had only perfected the cloning process for the masses.

Oh, and Germany I suppose. Since that's actually happening.

People always say to find the one thing you enjoy and desire to do life, and pursue it. I've realized, however, that it is never one thing. It will always be multiple things. Even if I do succeed at one of the bazillion dreams listed above, what happens to everything else? I can't just let go and not do them.

For the fall semester of my sophomore year in college, I decided to take a modern dance class, to fill up credits. I've always thought it be so cool to be a dancer. Suddenly I imagine myself as a dance major, going to rehearsals, performing in front of a large audience, being able to do such flexible things I could never dream of doing.

What the hell, man? I am never going to be a dancer. It's not that easy.

It's not that people don't pursue multiple dreams. It's just that sometimes, half of those dreams turn into hobbies, something that is done on the side, and don't go any farther than that.

But I don't want that.

I want to be able to excel at every single one of my dreams, to the point where people can't even identify my job.

"Oh, that's Esha, she's a...everything."

You know, if I weren't so creatively inclined, I would also like to become a doctor. It seems so exciting. But because I know I'll never be able to sit through multiple Chemistry and Biology classes, I resort to watching medical shows like House and Royal Pains.

Oh my god, this has to stop. This is turning into a weird version of my Christmas wish list.

But I have to say, Hinduism's got it down. Goddesses with multiple arms? I could use that. And multiple brains. And everything else.

I Have A Problem.

I think I know what my problem is.

Oh, I know I have plenty of problems. Everyone does, I'm not perfect. But I have one big problem that came to me while riding home on the bus back from New York (this is what happens when a certain someone perpetually - and sometimes purposefully - forgets her iPod during long trips).

I think I take on too many things at once. I always feel the need to do everything, meet everyone, sign up for this and that, and a couple more. As of right now, I am technically holding 3 different jobs. And I'm in that awkward phase, where one job is almost close to ending and another one is about to start, but that boss decided to have me come in a couple of days before my official start date, and the first job hasn't actually ended yet, and on top of that, the third job is in the same situation as the first job. Got all that? You'd think that, on the bright side, I'd be getting paid a lot, but I also tend to spontaneously shop. Last time I checked, shopping more than you get paid each week is the equivalent of eating a whole cheesecake after exercising. Let alone, one of the jobs doesn't even pay me (thankfully, that one is ending soon).

Not that I haven't been notified of this problem before. My mom takes it upon herself to remind me that I try to do too many things every time I want to do something that is a little off of the beaten track. Like...go to a concert. Oh, God forbid! Too much, too much!

But now, I've realized it for myself, and although she does take it to the extreme, my mom is not completely wrong. Just this week, I agreed to work 2 days at my new job "to get used to it before fall" (scheduled around my current work schedule at my current job), agreed to help a new friend out on a low-budget indie flick she's producing, tried to find a good to transport myself from work (which ends at 6), to home (time = 1 hour), to a friend's house (who lives over an hour away) for a sleepover at a decent time, but on a day that wouldn't conflict with my new work schedule, and with tentative plans to see a movie with another friend.

I wish there were a better way to word that last paragraph so it sounds less confusing, but that's exactly how I see it.

There are more things, but these are the ones that I have brought upon myself (first step in removing a problem - admitting you have created the problem). It's not that I don't try to fix anything. I'm smart enough to know that if you can't do something, you have to let it go, but not smart enough to realize this before actually making the plan. I guess I just can't say "no". Everything I forgo doing, I feel like I've missed an opportunity. Like how the first publishers to turn down JK Rowling probably feel right now. Regret.

Isn't it a saying though? That you shouldn't regret the things you do, but the things that you didn't do? Like turning down interviews to companies that really interest you, because you already accepted something else before this offer came up, so you weren't going to consider them anyway. On top of that, they don't pay. But don't worry, they have a fancy name to make up for it - an internship. Thank you for luring me in with your big offices and big names, I appreciate it.

I'm sure there is some psychological explanation behind it. Even when it comes to throwing away things in my room, I have doubt. What if I need it later? What if I'm in a crisis, and the one thing I need, I've thrown away? Regret, regret, regret. I know not being able to meet friends for sleepovers is not that big of a deal, but this is bigger than that. I don't want to go through life regretting the things I didn't do. I just want to do everything, so there will be nothing left to regret. Is that so crazy? To want to die happy and content with my life, with no regrets?

Okay, I'm starting to sound like some sappy mother from one of those Indian soap operas my mom watches. Excluding the depressing violin playing in the background, it's all true. Regret is overrated. You know what? I don't have a problem, it's man who has a problem for creating only 24 hours in day. What were we thinking?!?

Don't Forget To Clean Your [Insert Body Part Here]!

Is it just me, are there way too many things to take care of on our body? I don't mean to sound disgusting or un-hygienic, but I feel like the number of things to take care of has gone up ten-fold since we were put on this earth. Make that 1 million-fold.

Body care.

Hair care.

Ear care.

Face care.

Hand care.

Foot care.

Eye care.

Nail care.

Teeth care.

Health care.

Let's dig a little deeper, shall we?

Eyelash care.

Cuticle care.

Skin-around-your-eyes care.

Scalp care.

Lips care.

Gums care.

Behind-your-ears care.

Down-there care.

Eyebrow care.

Upper lip care.

Bone care.

Heart care.

Lungs care.

Kidneys care.

Muscle care.

Fat care.

Blood care.

Overall-body-equilibrium care.

Brain care.

The list goes on, and on, and...on. And for every part of the body we need to take care of, there are at least 200 different kinds of treatments for it. Creams, lotions, massages, exercises, gels, pills, tablets, diets, washes, the whole nine yards.

You think you got everything covered? I bet you missed a spot. Actually, I bet you missed hundreds of spots. Because somebody up there has a weird sense of humor and has made us into obsessive compulsive cleaning ladies, eternally doomed to find new places to clean, wash, tone, and scrub. I'm reminded of those moments working as a retail store sales associate, constantly folding and refolding clothes, watching customers blatantly mess up the pile of t-shirts I just organized, in front of me. Seriously? I just cleaned that. Now I have to do it again?
And what the hell is ear cream?
I don't want to sound disgusting. Of course I regularly shower, scrub, exercise, and generally clean my myself. There are obviously health benefits to doing so, and I get it. I guess it plays into what my dad always tells me (because I'm notorious for losing/breaking things I own):
"If it's yours, and you care about it, you take care of it. It's your responsibility."
I care about myself. Of course I want to look good, feel good. But this was definitely not in my job description, this constant paranoia about making sure my nails don't get too long, or that my legs are always shaved and smooth (and getting goosebumps on a cold day doesn't help me either). Remember when mom used to repeatedly tell you to clean underneath your nails when washing ? Now she yells at your for not moisturizing your hands, or not properly pushing back your cuticles. After all, keeping your cuticles clean keeps...the doctor away? What?
I have no answer to this, unfortunately. Unless our culture changes, or our bodies change to stop doing yucky stuff, or our health stops suffering from lack of care, we will forever be cleaning ladies. And none of those are ever going to change drastically, so here's to your supercilium. I hope it stays minty fresh at all times.
Ten points to the person who knows what that even is.