“The Julie and Julia Project”

“Julie and Julia” is a book published in the year 2005 and was made into a movie in the year 2009. That’s the movie that I just finished watching and I must say that it was worth each and every second. Based on a true story, I believe, it’s about a New Yorker Julie Powell who takes up a project to complete 524 recipes in Julia Child’s landmark cookbook, “Mastering the Art of French Cooking”. Intertwined with Julie’s story is the true tale of Julia Child who herself conquered French cuisines with passion, fearlessness and plenty of butter. Julie Powell blogs about her project each day and gets to be a writer in the end.

Well, if you all think that this post is about how great the movie is or how cooking feels, then I’m sorry. This post is about how the movie changed a part of me. I learned something very valuable from the movie.

I’m a bit of a perfection freak, although nothing I do ends up perfect. I tear up most of the first pages of my notebooks because the first page of my notes has to be perfect and so I tear them up and rewrite them. Just like that when posting a blog, I go through many stupid procedures and stare at it for hours to see if anyone read it, although the app lets me know if there is a feedback of any kind from anyone. I even post according to the timeline difference from here to America so that I end up posting during the time most of the people might be using the net and not sleeping or are at work. And when I get zero views, I tell myself that it’s because I posted it at the wrong time and so no one got to read my post and that is why there is no feedback. Writing this up and reading it I feel and you must also feel that I’m really pathetic and desperate. Well, let me tell you that this is what I learned from the movie “Julie and Julia”.  Passion and Fearlessness. Julie started her blog to get away from what she does all day. She wrote for five weeks straight and then got her vey first comment. But, it turned out to be her mother who keeps discouraging her so that she stops her blog.

I started my blog because I wanted it to be a place where I could spill out everything I wanted to and write whatever that came to my mind. Although I’m not that good at it, I truly believe that writing is my passion and desperately hopes to publish a book someday. But the perfection freak in me reviews my posts a hundred times and ended up spoiling the fun of writing. I cared about the likes and comments more than my thoughts and ending up writing about the same topic again and again because it got me more likes.

Well, from now onwards, I’m gonna try ‘passion’ and ‘fearlessness’ for a change. I write about what I like and I’m more than happy if you also like it. The freak in me would through a party if you ended up liking my posts. But having respect for the passion inside me, I’m not gonna be obsessive about like and comments. Someone out there might read it. Well if they didn’t…I guess it’s a loss for them. 😉


When we died inside.

With the wind blowing against my face, I ran. Smiling to my heart’s content, I looked to my side to see my sister smiling back at me. We weren’t running away from anything. We were just running. Through the beautiful meadow during fall. There was no competition nor did we have an end point. We ran just to feel the wind against our face. Just to remember how it felt like. How long has it been since you ran like that? Can you even remember a moment like that? A time where you were carefree and was let off from all the responsibilities for a moment. When was the last time you played in a meadow with someone or jumped down a waterfall? Can you remember jumping into the cold river and splashing water on everyone? Because, I can’t…

Don’t think to yourself that there isn’t a meadow or a waterfall or a river near your place. Only parks and swimming pools? That’s even worse. It means that the world died with you. Alright then. When was the last time you sat on a swing and rode it at full speed to the top? If you can’t remember, that’s when you know that you are dead inside. But it’s not your fault. People say it’s called being normal, although I call it being dead. You might have to run to your job each day and return late at night and look at all the chores you have to do. There might even be days when you get no sleep at all because of the workload you have to handle. It might all pay off on the day of your paycheck. But until then? Until then, you live tightly holding onto your dreams and hopes. Today and tomorrow, you get up again to survive another day.

“Vague hopes and dry laughter change as time passes. But the sorrow, the wounds and the scars don’t disappear away.” No matter how much we have endured and endured, we easily find tragic times to look at more than happy ones. The times when you sacrificed a time of joy so that you’ll get a little more on your payday. Who are we living for like this? You might look at your child in the distance and say to yourself that you endured everything so that he or she could smile. So that he or she could live in luxury. You look at the smiling face of your child and you feel that you could go through all the hardships in the world. Well, I want you to look in the mirror and see your own smile. Smile at yourself in the mirror and see whether you are able smile sincerely to yourself. See if at least a faint smile is there.

I used to be great at climbing to the top of trees and jumping over walls. Now, I don’t even run towards anything. Literally anything. I can’t, unless I’m late for class. But I hope each day that one day, I can sit on the side of a lake or a river and listen to just the wind and nothing else and lie there for hours. Do you have any hours to spare like that? I have to spend them studying for the upcoming test. What about you? It’s okay if you don’t. There aren’t many lakes that we could sit beside anyway. It’s okay if you’re dead inside. Since everyone in the world is, we’re just one among them. But I hope that one day you’ll be able to run along with your child in the meadow smiling instead of working late hours for the same child while he or she slept alone at home.

It isn’t you…It’s me…

They are a million ways in which a good friendship can break. And I’m here to tell you about one of the worst ways. The way in which none of them did anything wrong and still a good friendship had gone to waste. Maybe the world was not the right one for such a friendship. And maybe, it never will be.

She never did anything wrong. She smiled at me with a sincere heart and took me along wherever she went. But I could never smile back at her sincerely. To see her beautiful smile hurt me inside. And to think that my smile would never be as beautiful as hers was killing me. But she never did anything wrong. It wasn’t her fault that she was pretty and I wasn’t. But it hurt to know that the guy I liked only spoke to me because I was her friend. Her tag-along that he had to be nice to so that he could be close to her. And she never realized anything. But she never did anything wrong. It was me. Me, who could not face myself in the mirror. Me, who had a stupid inferiority complex that never let me enjoy any of the fun times with her. Being next to her reminded me of how the worlds are different for the pretty ones and the not-so-pretty ones. I started to hate being with her. But she never did anything wrong. It was the way people saw me. The way they treated me. Without her, I had no friends. No one who I could talk to. No one took a second look at me. It was as though I was a worthless person. And it hurt. But she never did anything wrong. She was the only person who treated me without a difference. Even if there was no one in the world who wanted to be with me, she took me in as her best friend. She spent her whole day with me and introduced me to all her friends. She never saw me as an ugly person. She saw the real me and loved me with all her heart. She never did anything wrong…


What did I do wrong? I tried my best to look pretty. But the more make-up I put on, the more I looked like a clown. I tried my best to smile happily so that people would look beyond beauty and recognize me. But no one noticed. The more I spend time with her, more I felt like charity. It hurt the way the world looked at me. Actually, it hurt when they didn’t. She never intended anything. But in the end, whatever she did, I judged myself into a loser. And I became one.

And so, to save me from myself, I distanced myself from her. A good friendship gone ruined because I cared too much. And she never did anything wrong. Yet, she’ll never know why she lost her best friend. She’s a good person. If anyone is to take the blame, it would be me. But what was I supposed to do?

Maybe it’s just about being pretty.

Beauty is something that always gives you confidence. People notice the pretty one from a crowd and in life that’s all that you ever wanted. To be noticed. Every human hopes to be the center of attraction. Only a few humans were smart enough to not to fall into this trap. They followed they’re passion and that passion got them noticed by others. That is why the “Beauty Queen” changes every year while the “Most Talented” ones are hard to beat.

But what do you do if you couldn’t find your passion? What do you do when the ones that you want to be noticed by don’t care about how talented you are or even what kind of a person you are unless you’re pretty in their eyes? That’s when it hurts.

There are so many in this world that you’d like to please. So many that you desperately crave to be noticed by. And all those idiots care about is beauty. So well, maybe it is just about being pretty.

Well then, what is this so called beauty? The inner beauty is something that everyone knows about. The warm beating soul inside is the inner beauty. But that isn’t what everyone cares about. The outer beauty is something a bit more complicated. How do you know whether you are pretty or not? Are you pretty if someone gives you a compliment? Then everyone in this world would be handsome or pretty because their mothers said so. So how do you measure beauty? People say that it varies with everyone’s eyes. Now that’s a fact.

So now the question is who’s eyes should you take as a reference. It should obviously be the ones whom you want to be noticed by. If you’re buying a gift for someone it should be something that would like,isn’t it? And that is the point when you loose. Your reference should always be your eyes. One day when you look into the mirror and feel no shame to see your reflection, that’s when you’re not just pretty but you’re beautiful. Whether you’re face seems  as if its the full moon on the darkest night or as if its the dark cloud that covers the moon so that not even one tiny bit of moonlight falls on the earth and yet you are able to smile at your own reflection without any regrets, that is when you’re beautiful.

But would that get you noticed by someone? Probably not. But then ask yourself why you need to be noticed by such a horrible person who won’t even take a second glance at you to even think whether you might be pretty.

There are many good people in this world. But there are many bad ones too. Don’t try to show that you’re worth something to the Devil. Spend that time trying to show it to the God. And I hope that one day you will finally get noticed by that person and that then you’ll be able to walk away from that person with your head held high.

What do you want to be in your life?

It’s hard to live in this world. Trying your best to be a mature girl and doing what’s best for everyone else. You would do anything to please everyone. While taking a decision, you think about everyone else except you. How it would affect others, how would they think about you, would they like it or not, would they be proud or would they criticize? What if you fail?? It’s hard to be a mature girl. The days when all your worries were eating vegetables for dinner and the villains beating up the Power Rangers are long gone. And that thought hurts me. But what hurts me the most is that everyone expects more than just a mature girl. They all want you to be the best as the best only survives in this world.

The ‘best’ is singular. Only one can be the best. Then what about the ‘rest’? Well, no one cares, right? All they care about is being the best. No matter how hard the climb up is, they don’t think twice whether it’s the right amount of responsibility for a child. Maybe not even once. The ‘best’ out there did it, then why can’t you?

So you end up putting all your efforts into being the best. Hours and hours of practice or being buried in books at three in the morning don’t matter. No matter what you do, it’s just not enough. You skip all three meals a day so that just a little bit of your weight disappears. You spend sleepless nights trying to finish all the books available in the library. Even if you feel as though you might faint any second, you force yourself a little more saying that’s what it takes to be the best.

Trying your best to be the ‘best’, you often end up forgetting about yourself. You might even forget to find out your own passion. What is that one thing you crave for every single day? That one thing that you long to have or be. So much that your heart aches at not being able to achieve it.

Your passion is something that you never get tired of even if you do it a million times. The same passion that made champions. They love what they do and they would it all again a hundred times. It’s that fire in their bones that won’t die no matter how hard they get hit. Living without passion for something is living as one of the walking dead. Once you find your passion, that is when you turn your dreams into reality. But to achieve a dream, you have to first see it and your passion helps you to see it in HD.

So what is your passion? Blindly without any hesitation, you answer to the question, “What do you want to be in life?”. It might not be a truthful answer, but it is the answer that you were taught so well that you whole heartedly believe that it is what you want in life. Maybe it was because you never had time to find out what you actually wanted in life, what your passion was. But for now, the answer is, “To be the best.”

Being Strong For Too Long…

Would you like to suffer through an awful and tasteless meal that you have to shove into your mouth or the most delicious and mouth watering meal while both come at the same high price? Which life would you choose? Obviously the tasty one that makes you feel as though the price was worth it. But I chose the awful one. Want to why?

Try acting like it’s the most delicious meal and eat it whole heartedly. As though that price was not high enough to get such a marvelous meal that you were tremendously lucky to have. You might find it hard to do so, but what keeps you going is the face that peeks from the kitchen window to see how you’re enjoying the food that they made. The happiness that you find in their eyes is priceless and that is what makes you think that the price was worth it. A professional would never make such an awful dish. It’s an amateur with a soft heart who puts all his efforts into presenting that one meal for you. They might not have got a chance to eat it off a silver plate with a silver spoon like you as that price was too high for them. All they got was a tiny bite which cooking. But when they see you enjoying it, they get a glance of heaven at that moment.

But what about you? You might feel like choking yourself to death with every single bite. You might fear that you end up spitting it out and worry about the face at the window. How would they feel to know that they gave you one of the worst nightmares when all they wanted was to give the best one that you ever had. How would they feel to be disappointed with themselves thinking about how they made someone else’ day a bad one?

Being strong for too long hurts a lot. Especially if one of your loved ones is watching from afar thinking that you’re enjoying the life that they set for you. And when you think about how they would feel if you finally choke on it, it hurts even more. You try you’re very best to suffer till the end and to turn to them and say that it was awesome. But would you make it that far? Could you hold on till the end? That fear is what hurts the most.