When you rupture a muscle in your back and have pneumonia induced coughing fits (which genuinely make you think you might possibly have abs) there is very little to do with your time. Read books, write blogs or watch everything going on Netflix. As an educated woman trying to better myself... obviously voted for just a Netflix existence.
I took a minor interlude from the self pity and the Scandal reruns (and pining for a destructive, obsessive, totally unhealthy love like Olivia and Fitz), as Baz and Geeta brought Chester to London to cheer me up. Much to my delight I managed to walk around Richmond Park without my inhaler, fucking wild.
Once Geeta had ploughed us curry (the real reason for the trip) we settled on Netflix once more for some family time. Luckily for me, Baz and I have exactly the same taste in movies: rom coms, action or sports. Soz, Geeta.
We settled on Divergent. You probably haven't seen it because I think it was marketed for a 14 year old girl, pretty perfect for Baz and I. And it terrified the shit out of me.
The premise of the film is as follows: there was an a war, let's call it an apocalypse (much more dramatic for the basis of my thesis) and following the war, to contain society, they split the population into five factions dependent on what virtues you possess:
And that point in the plot I realised I was fucked. I know the chances of me living in a post apocalyptic world are slim but seeing as 2016 was the year of Brexit and President Elect Trump I refuse to hold predications for the future anymore.
So I ignored the plot (except for the hot guy) and tried to fit myself into a post-apocalyptic faction.
This one isn't for me. If Cat wants to get the tube to work, I want to get the train. If Cat wants stir fry for dinner I want pasta bake. Not because I actually want pasta bake over stir fry I just like to annoy her, because I'm incredibly selfish. I want it my way and I am not willing to bend (too far) for someone's way. So let's scratch selfless. Plus in the film the selfless Abnegation aren't allowed to look in the mirror, make up is banned , grey is the only colour they can wear and their hair must be tied in a bun at all times. I cannot and will not live a life without a black roll neck. I just can't.
As much as I persist to be Gryffindor I fear this may not be so. In Divergent the brave are these mental people called 'Dauntless' who run everywhere, jump on an off trains, throw themselves down pits and fight against each other for fun. I walk at the pace of a sloth, never run for the train even when I know I am going to be late and the the only way I would throw myself down a pit is if Ryan Reynolds was at the bottom of it. However I am totally on board with the all black outfits and the hot Dauntless leader guy.
Since I didn't realise the intelligent faction 'Erudite' actually means, 'having or showing great knowledge or learning' (thank you Google) does that immediately eradicate my entitlement to it?
I can safely say my intelligence peaked in year 8 when I won the literature prize for the book I didn't read. And what.
Also known as 'Amnity' another one I had to Google, again I feel is not screaming 'me'. I like peaceful for about an hour and then I get bored. Today, for example, I have had the entire day to myself and it has been TORTURE. No one to lol with, no one to ask me what we should eat. No one for me to be needy around. I like a loud, noisy abrasive kind of life - that is all we Bhatias know.
'Candour' finally one I didn't have to Google. Candour hold honesty above any other kind of virtue, even when being candour is not being kind. If I had to join one of the factions, it would probably be this one because you could totally get away with being a total bitch and blame it on your personality type. You wouldn't have to lie to your best friend when she asks you whether her eyebrows are even, you could be really frank about your love for Escape to the Country and not have to deny your occasional indulgence in daytime TV. When dining at someone's house you wouldn't have to fake vegetarianism, you could just tell them they're a terrible cook and you don't trust their meat choices. And they couldn't hate you because hey that's candour. But then I just don't know if I can say out loud, 'is your chicken from Waitrose and/or M&S? Because if it isn't I wont eat it.' (But for reference you should know that is exactly what I am thinking.)
So what's a girl to do?
We haven't even touched on The Hunger Games. The outfits and the sass- yes. The natural born survival instincts - no.
(OMG DEEP IMPACT JUST COME ON THE TV, IT'S A SIGN).
I always rejected the idea of survival techniques when I was younger, the Duke of Edinburgh awards seemed liked a ridiculous notion. When would I ever need to read a compass or a map, or learn to light a fire. We have Sat Nav and Bhatias don't camp. But what if school was trying to prepare me what was to come in the future? What if The Hunger Games and Divergent could be an actual thing that happens, and the only faction I fit into is 'Tequila Drinking Friend Stealer', I don't know how far that will get me.
I'm not ruling out anything any more. I am going to get a compass, I am going to start running / walking at a more reasonable pace and I am going to work on being an all round factioner. First stage: accepting non Waitrose meats.
Oh god no, I just can't. Let the comet hit me. I'll be the martyr, it suits me better.
Fatty BB xxx