What would RTH do?

That is the question.

If I were in a highschool yearbook, they would vote me most likely to die of a lynch mob. That does not prevent me from opening my mouth and serving a warm hearty cup of STFU to people who deserve it. My dark scathing humor will leave no matter of existence untouched. My innocence will touch your soul.

Welcome to a warped world turned inside out and upside down. All sorts of discretion advised.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Back to School

Sounds bizarre saying it, but like thousands of students across the country this fall I will be going back to school. Currently I am in an oddly giddy state of mind over this. It is a strange mixture of excitement, apprehension, as well as disbelief.

Beginning August end I will be starting my evening MBA program at the University of Wisconsin - Madison. When 2009 rolled into 2010, I had no idea this would be the case. Forget MBA, I had not even planned to take the GMAT. I finished my Bachelors degree in May 2009 and was planning on a few years rest.

Then I am not sure what bit me and on a sudden whim one day I registered for the GMAT. I must have been possessed by a ghost because for the longest time I actually refrained from the internet and actually studied. I scored a 610. It is a pretty ordinary score. Nothing special to write home about. But I lived with it. Considering my math quotient is that of a three year old and I did this on a whim with little over a couple months of studying, I'm going to let myself get carried away and say I rocked it.

Then came application. It was May when I got my official results. Usually it is too late to apply for fall. I planned on waiting for 2011, but then again on a whim I applied. There were two choices. The first of course being the UW-Madison. It is not a Harvard, but it is amidst the top twenty public business schools in the country. Not just that it is one of the most renowned public universities in the Midwest. One known for its highly snotty admission policies and higher standards. I should know, I did not make the cut for my undergraduate. Grainger Hall home of the School of Business is a sweet modern facility. I have taken small business classes there at work. This is just the kind of school you want to go to. The second was a private college. One with a really sound program, great faculty and facilities amidst all the evening MBA programs out there. It was not a big name for the resume, but I had looked at their structure and curriculum and it was quality. It was a sure shot admission too.

So yeah this study at home, measly 610 GMAT, even measlier SAT scores student decided to take a chance. One admission was in the bag, the other was up in the air. Little did I know, I got in. My GPA was definitely rock solid. It was definitely on the high end of their admission spectrum. Writing is my forte, I'm guessing I wrote some pretty good admission essays. Something that really portrayed my seriousness and aptitude as a student, reflecting an intellect that most test scores don't appear to capture. I'm also sure my current and former co workers gave some exemplary letters of recommendation.

So this is it. Here I am, at a place I never thought I would be. Getting all set to start my MBA. Gosh 2010 has been full of surprises.

On a side note, ever since I graduated I have been neglectful of my writing. My blogs have taken a backseat while I have wasted precious time on the internet with mindless posting and PMing on forums. Heres hoping to some time management and discipline - so that I can study, have fun and definitely write a lot. For there is more fun to some structured writing than online debating. I'm starting a short novella. I started a rough draft with ideas jotted a few weeks ago.

Why do we eat?

Do we eat to live or do we live to eat?

With my family it definitely is the latter. In fact sometimes I think living to eat was a phrase coined after observing my family. In fact as long as one of us wants to eat, there is assurance that we are alive and kicking and would come out of any hell or misery so that we may eat again. In simpler words, if I am dying and the defibrillator does not revive me try to bring some delicious kebabs and curries to revive me. Until the food arrives tantalize me with tales of mouth watering food delights and I shall hold off the light at the end to live and eat.

Last weekend, we ate out thrice. In those three times eating out we have tasted almost every dessert in the menu at Abuelo's and at Biaggi's. In fact I can still taste some of that White Chocolate Bread Pudding from Biaggi's. Why I think my system just digested all the meals from last weekend. It was that fulfilling and stuffing, that it took a week to digest.

The reason we ate out so often is that my uncle and his family from California came over for a quick weekend visit. They visited because my grandfather (maternal) had a heart attack and was in the hospital. So you could say that we were eating and stuffing ourselves with delicious culinary goodies because my grandfather had a heart attack. That probably sounds terrible. One could try and justify it by relating it to binge eating of ice-cream and chocolate after a heart wrenching break up. Although the fact is, thats just the way we are.

When I look back fondly as the years gone by I remember that the best kulfi falooda and chhole bature I had was after a funeral. We had just cremated my grand uncle and were walking home from the crematorium, when we experienced sudden lustful cravings for food. So there we were sitting at a small restaurant in Sion, mourners from a funeral delighting over chhole bature and kulfi falooda. Sometimes I actually find myself morbidly looking forward to death anniversaries and such. The Indian palate has actually a delicious range of foods picked out for such occasions.

Most people will think we are horrible people with really appalling attitudes towards death and sickness. The rest of the world can stay cozy in their misery, if that is what floats their boat. We grieve, we pray, we pay our respects in our own way. I've been there as a kid rolling in bed under agony with almost 103 degrees fever, with hordes of relatives visiting to see how I was doing, and if they would have to pop my tonsils out this time. But you know what I would have really appreciated - a piping hot cup of soup or maybe some fudge. Fudge cures everything. I'm sure the cure for cancer is in the fudge.

Food is an excellent thing to share. When we share food, whether at home or outside, we share flavor, we share tastes, we share textures, we share a world of feelings and ideas. We share culture and create memories. Nothing says lasting memories like sharing food. Think about it funnel cakes on the boardwalk, popcorn at the movies, corn dogs at the fair, turkey at Thanksgiving, Ham for Christmas, summertime lemonade or grandmas holiday cookies. Food creates stronger and vibrant memories. So no matter what the occasion, be it one of ecstatic glee or deep sadness; share some food and enjoy it. Pass the food and make people happy. Dead, alive or dying - everyone will appreciate it. Which is why I sure do hope my funeral will have good delicious food.

And so if you have been eating to live, live it up a bit and try living to eat. Life will love you better for it, not to mention your tummy.