When I went in to take those impromptu classes at JDBI, to prep the students interview-ready, I have a fair feeling I was possessed. You know, good-possessed. Some fairy sprinkled a kilo of confidence-dust on me, and polished it with a sharp tongue which yielded the choicest words benifitting the matter. So, when my students claimed they learned a lifetime from me, believe me, they listened to that appearance, the snappy, jazzy, sometimes kind-mostly mean-teacher who wore that cloak of power. And boy did it good to her and her students!
Of the many golden one-liners I pelted, one was "you cannot change your look; but, but you can definitely change the way you look!" Really, on a given assignment for any pep-talk, or for content writing, I could have never come up with that line. Sometimes, those lines feel to have become inked on my soul. I often find my patronus in a smart person addressing a room full of people, complete with aura and all. And when I am out of my reverie, back to my pajama-clad self reclined on the sofa, I thank my patronus -- the appearance.
It is a nice thing, to stay true to your self and all, but this world understands the words you speak and the way you sit. And they really look low upon someone lazying on the sofa all day, changing channels on TV. So, I decided to gift the world an appearance -- which I will not describe now. The world I find loves that appearance.
It includes little things like putting time into my mousepad and ball-point pen, and not just my shoes and bags. And that, readers, doesn't hurt. Yesterday, I came across a meme which had a black Santa and which proclaimed that it was to reach shake every racist brat. It was well intended, but not quite well recieved. While purists would go on to point out about the nature of mankind and xenophobia which reigns sublime, if I am not too incorrect, the real reason it did not become popular was because of the terrible yellow font which spelt juvenile all over the picture. And the noise on the superimposed photograph -- all in all, it wasn't quite a presentable photograph. I know you are screaming at my "do not judge a book by its cover" philosophy. I did though. For, I remembered a book by its cover and colour. The komola boi would forever be my nightmare book of literary theory.
There have been many like me, the mass actually, who care only for the appearance.
So, when I could not accept my Return of the Native cover, I put one from one of my coveted calender pages. Oh, did I return to it then! And yes, my copy of Glass Menagerie it is so sexy, that I put a transparent cover over it; it shines. To end it, I am not speaking of brands, I am endorsing taste. So next time, do not take out your pen with a chewed cap in front of someone. Please enjoy the liberty of chewing a pen cap, in your entitled solitude. Please have the good sense of not bringing out a copy from your bag which has run out of pages.
That is all.
PS: Proposed appearance of this post: Wisdom > Wit.
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