tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82788551102146849852024-03-14T01:10:08.151+05:30O well. What now?If one of your thoughts was to escape from your head and announce itself to the world, how amusing would it be? These are mine. Not entirely amusing. Not entirely announcing themselves very frequently either. Bad bad bad.handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-73152249671667229532015-10-23T01:57:00.000+05:302015-10-23T01:57:52.570+05:30Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I first heard news of his engagement about 3 months ago. Not from him, though. From her. I don't know which felt like a greater betrayal-of love or of the last vestiges of friendship we had yet preserved.<br />
<br />
Since then, I have been sitting down, bearing down, on a feeling of anger trying to ensure that no part of me betrays that truth; while I am fully aware that he will derive no true pleasure or satisfaction-I feel like allowing him that feeling of being "prized" is more than he deserves. Maybe I am being silly.<br />
<br />
I guess I would, if I could, seek comfort in a friend regarding this but I am unsure if that is possible --a reflection of my friendships as equally as of my understanding of this completely hopeless situation.<br />
<br />
For the record:<br />
<br />
I do not wish to attend any associated ceremonies or celebrations.<br />
<br />
I do not wish to congratulate either of them.<br />
<br />
I do not wish to pretend to share with them a smidge of joy regarding this.<br />
<br />
Hell, I do not even wish to ever use this word-joy-in any meaningful context.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
So, that leads me to wonder... How does one reach the "<i>frankly, my dear...</i>" state of affairs? Ultimately, it appears, life is a series of events, staring you down, holding a placard that reads: "<i>suck it up, bitch</i>".</div>
</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-24205951424754676542015-08-18T09:49:00.001+05:302015-08-18T11:52:27.818+05:30Summarising Goa Unkindly<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.5749435424805px; widows: auto;">
<br />
Gold flakes. Light.<br />
Passed around.<br />
Brightly burnt.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.5749435424805px; widows: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.5749435424805px; widows: auto;">
You. Your arms holding.<br />
Never me.<br />
Me. My arms always holding.<br />
Cold cold breezers. Or anything poured in glass.<br />
Breakable. Often broken.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.5749435424805px; widows: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.5749435424805px; widows: auto;">
Alone in a crowd.<br />
Friends. Family.<br />
Just not mine.<br />
Never mine.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.5749435424805px; widows: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.5749435424805px; widows: auto;">
The beach so sunny<br />
So hot on the skin<br />
now so dead.<br />
Losing memories and creating realisations.<br />
Me, always running. Away.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.5749435424805px; widows: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.5749435424805px; widows: auto;">
Truths I'd rather not see.<br />
Never have seen.<br />
Context, perspective.<br />
A horizon too far to say.<br />
--<i>h.c</i></div>
</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-41472099937034478982014-06-09T18:45:00.002+05:302014-06-09T18:45:37.341+05:30A little of Remembering and a lot of Forgetting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>I try so hard to capture</i><br />
<i>everything I wish to forget,</i><br />
<i> the feeling of your lips-closed and pressed-against mine</i><br />
<i> the way your thumb traces circles inside my palm</i><br />
<i> the little breath of a kiss in my hair under a hug</i><br />
<i> the heavy weight of your head upon my chest.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I try so hard to remember</i><br />
<i>even as I'm already losing,</i><br />
<i> the words of the arguments we've had</i><br />
<i> the differences that seemed insurmountable</i><br />
<i> the fact that you're stubborn enough to let my b'day pass unwished</i><br />
<i> the hurtful things I have done to you and you have done to me</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I'm becoming more and more uncertain,</i><br />
<i>of what I wish to remember and what I wish to forget,</i><br />
<i>Even as the passing time ensures </i><br />
<i>A little of Remembering and a lot of Forgetting.</i><br />
<i>-h.c</i><br />
<br />
In my own words, I don't think it captures quite the essence of loss I feel constantly. To make myself remember again and again, that we are not together, haven't been for so long, that it is more 'reasonable' and 'sensible' that we be apart. To remind myself that this failure does not confirm that I have lost too much, nor that I am irreparably broken; only that I have failed here and now. Just this once.<br />
<br />
Once again, more than my own words, Buddy Wakefield does justice to the emotions in these <a href="http://www.buddywakefield.com/tour/journalearlyarchives/000121.php" target="_blank">words</a>. </div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-89251222458782202432014-04-24T17:11:00.002+05:302014-04-24T17:11:55.926+05:30There are Rules.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have rules for everything. Everything. Running in public? <i>Rules</i>. Picking up calls? <i>Rules</i>. Eating alone? <i>Rules</i>. Somebody cancelled on you? <i>Rules</i>. Wearing socks with open toed shoes? <i>Rules</i>. Borrowing socks? <i>Rules</i>. Denim with denim? ahem. No. not unless you're in L.A. and its fashion week and you have a statement to make that people want to hear. <i>Rules</i>.<br />
Everything.<br />
I have these rules because I am slightly obsessive about why things happen, about the things I hate absolutely and will not allow to happen again and about what is good for me and my mental health and what isn't. Not surprisingly, a lot of 'life' isn't.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ufmIYrUmAKE/U1j4HbpSKBI/AAAAAAAAAeo/UXOwjDv9Myo/s1600/Rottenecards_1971848_ppdd6wy6f9.png" height="224" width="320" /><span id="goog_101974525"></span><span id="goog_101974526"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Image from <i><a href="http://www.rottenecards.com/card/60925/yes-its-a-bad-time-let-me-c">here.</a></i></div>
<br />
So here are a few of the rules, mostly related to calling:<br />
<br />
1. If you have been a jerk to me at any point in my life, I will not pick up your calls-Ever. I will call you when I am nice and ready for a conversation with you. and on your birthday because I believe social codes exist for a reason and if you stop believing in them, floodgates etc.<br />
<br />
2. I will not set you up with my friends. I am not a pimp and my friends are not mine so I can abuse the privilege. I may, on occasion, introduce you to a friend but I will never insist they go out with you if they don't want to. Sometimes, given both your mental states as I perceive them, I will not even introduce you when both of you wish to be introduced to each other.<br />
<br />
3. If there are 3 occasions where I call you, and you fail to pick up my call or fail to call back thereafter, I will delete your number so that I never call you again lest I be further disappointed in you. And I will never call you again. except pursuant to Rule#1.<br />
<br />
4. If we make a plan and you ditch me for a reason not-nearly-good-enough, I will cancel every plan we make for a considerable time in the near future or alternately, be really late for the plan we do make or alternately, be very vague about when I am free and avoid making plans with you. I know this is extremely childish and juvenile, but I do this because my time is extremely precious to me and to have wasted something that is so precious to me for a reason not-nearly-good-enough is an extremely thoughtless and inconsiderate thing to do. I will only forgive you for this if I really like you and you have paid your dues by being out-weighingly fun.<br />
<br />
5. The three strikes rule. I will cease being a good friend after the third strike. I am the sole determiner of whether an event counts as a strike or not. You cannot justify a strike as a non-strike because you are not me. You cannot say that I am unfairly counting an event as a strike because you don't know the rules and to say that I would unfairly use the fair system of three-strikes is in itself a strike.<br />
<br />
6. I will dislike you a little bit if you over play the privilege of calling.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-29659368337926969712014-03-20T16:20:00.000+05:302014-03-20T16:20:03.166+05:30I'm Still Dreaming<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've had an unusually busy morning and a fairly easy, lazy day.<br />
<br />
I'm doing the <a href="http://www.theadventurists.com/rickshaw-run#whats-the-rickshaw-run" target="_blank">Rickshaw Run in August, 2014. </a> Its all very exciting.<br />
The Plan is to take the entire month off work and just travel a bit. A bit being all the way from Shillong to Cochin-3500kms approximately. Hopefully without any naxal encounters.<br />
The Plan is to drive the autorickshaw myself.<br />
The Plan is to see some beautiful things.<br />
The Plan is to not think about all those disturbing things that we must think about each day. and even those things that we must not, but do.<br />
The Plan is enticing.<br />
<br />
You know what happens when you plan big?<br />
Your wallet gets stolen, alongwith your relatively new Driving License.<br />
<br />
Of course that happened!<br />
<br />
<i>If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.</i><br />
<br />
Anyway. I went to the Zonal Office today for a duplicate license. It'll come home in a week, supposedly.<br />
That is what the cops said about my stuff too. A month ago.<br />
<br />
But the Transport Department is a pinch better than the Police Department.<br />
I hope.<br />
<br />
I'm still dreaming.</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-44552030852807503952014-02-28T16:32:00.001+05:302014-03-20T16:21:41.748+05:30What February felt like.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://rippledthoughts.com/buddy-wakefield/">WE WERE EMERGENCIES</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /><div style="text-align: right;">
--Buddy Wakefield</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;">
A poet</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But tonight let us not become tragedies.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We are not funeral homes</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
with propane tanks in our windows</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
lookin’ like cemeteries.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Let go.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Tonight, Poets, let’s turn our wrists so far backwards</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the razor blades in our pencil tips</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
can’t get a good angle on all that beauty inside.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Step into this</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
with your airplane parts</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and repeat after me with your heart:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hate myself.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Make love to me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.Go slow.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I’m new to this</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop without jumping.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I have realized the moon did not have to be full for us to love it.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We are not tragedies</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
stranded here beneath it.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
If my heart really broke every time I fell from love</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I’d be able to offer you confetti by now</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but hearts don’t break, y’all,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
they bruise and get better.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We were never tragedies.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We were emergencies.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You call 9 – 1 – 1.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Tell them I’m havin’ a fantastic time.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /><br /></div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-38315337568689841662014-01-16T14:35:00.004+05:302014-01-16T14:35:43.895+05:30Novalis I say. Novalis.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
New to me.<br />
<br />
<i>I was still blind, </i><i>but twinkling stars did dance</i><br />
<i>throughout my beings limitless expanse,</i><br />
<i>Nothing had yet drawn close, only at distant stages</i><br />
<i>I found myself, a mere suggestion sensed in past & future ages.</i><br />
--Novalis<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
It just feels so personal. So hopeful and so hopeless.<br />
It feels like it should go on to reveal something ...cathartic.<br />
<br />
On the cusp of a journey that begins tomorrow. I feel like I am ill prepared for facing certain consequences that must follow from certain acts which began about 3-3.5 years ago. I feel like I had conveniently moved past something which refuses to move into the past.<br />
<br />
Here is to setting out on the journey to face the truths of the previous chapter of my life.<br />
It feels appropriate to be reading <i>Novalis</i> right about now, as I enter this phase of 'clearing new land'!<br />
<br />
<i>Happy Journey.</i></div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-8188877182883128452014-01-09T12:20:00.002+05:302014-01-09T12:20:47.438+05:30Opening 2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Lessons 2013: <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1. Realization is always a belated friend and when she arrives, it is safe to assume it is too late already.</div>
<div>
2. Our fates are sometimes ascribed by our assumptions.</div>
<div>
3. Sometimes how people react is not indicative of how they feel at all.</div>
<div>
4. Some things we will never learn-like keeping your wits about you. and it is okay.<br /><br /><div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Resolutions 2014:<br />I maintain another blog, and a lot of the content here has already been posted there. For the last vestiges of anonymity, I will refrain from simply copy-pasting that list :) more so because this feels like so much more a personal journal entry than that entry which is...public. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
><i>is everything public...impersonal? is that why a secretive relationship is so appealing? is it that my gold loses luster when your eyes witness it? is it also true of all intellectual property?</i><<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So then, here are the core resolutions of the year:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1. Take offense as you would take salt. a pinch at most, and then to flavour and not as an ingredient.</div>
<div>
2. Discipline & Health</div>
<div>
3. <a href="http://wikitravel.org/en/Footloose_in_Old_Delhi">Footloose in Old Delhi.</a></div>
<div>
4. Pay attention to yourself. Dress with care. You are worth your time.</div>
<div>
5. Every Quarter-do something <i>adventurous/exceptional/out-of-the-ordinary/unusual/that makes you smile</i>.</div>
<div>
6. Travel. If you can/ when you can/ however you can. Now. When you're young. before you're married. before you have unarguably good excuses.</div>
<div>
7. Gratitude. Once in a while, a Big Thank You.<br /><br />This list is neither adventurous nor too ambitious. It is simply, a To-Do list for this year with reasonable requests of myself.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-49218534861764044812013-12-31T23:30:00.000+05:302014-01-01T12:28:20.871+05:30Closing 2013<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
The purpose of writing down resolutions is to witness for oneself how many/how few one fulfills. I forgot to write down the resolutions of 2013, but I dedicated the year to fulfilling a lot of the resolves of 2012. Here is how:<br />
<br />
1. <i>Less Alcohol, more Adventure. </i>--It turns out that 2013 was the year of : plays, discovering new music, d-i-y activities, beginning the guitar (perhaps the end of that adventure as well!), trips to Gokarna & Bangalore & Bombay & Dharamsala, paragliding, Triund trek, strangers as friends.<br />
<br />
2. <i>Lesser hang ups, more experiments. </i>-- talking to strangers, not thinking or researching about the trips-just saying yes, LD, jogging in a public park, wearing dresses/shorts.<br />
<br />
3. <i>More talking, lesser messaging. </i>--I've always been a more 'written' person than a 'spoken' person, but I made it a point to pick up calls every once in a while (Berl), LD again, and of course, I stayed in touch with a lot of people from college despite my own expectations of losing touch :)<br />
<br />
4. <i>Being the bitch, if that’s what makes you happy even though the world would hate you. </i>--I lost touch with certain people (P-Lo) and did not contact her despite knowing fully well that she was annoyed (suppressed a major people-pleasing tendency here), fought with a colleague about <strike>staying late at work because i wanted to and she dint!</strike> a petty issue simply because it made me happier, cut L off.<br />
<br />
5. <i>Footloose in Old Delhi</i> -- <a href="http://wikitravel.org/en/Footloose_in_Old_Delhi#b">http://wikitravel.org/en/Footloose_in_Old_Delhi#b</a> --DID NOT DO, added this to Resolutions 2014 :)<br />
<br />
6. <i>Make a complete fool of yourself, otherwise you will never know. </i>--Ahem, Bangalore was a complete fool-making experience. With this image as my wallpaper, and still not having a clue.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w9lqglGL8iU/UrK3pxOYvHI/AAAAAAAAAVU/ML44X_TtuLU/s1600/SC20131219-142941.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w9lqglGL8iU/UrK3pxOYvHI/AAAAAAAAAVU/ML44X_TtuLU/s1600/SC20131219-142941.png" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
However, I guess I was right to think "otherwise you will never know", because I do know now. and it is just as well. I might have exposed myself (oh God, I hate how literal <i>and </i>figurative this is!) too much and to too much, but at least, now I know where the future does not lie. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's wonderful knowing that I have a full brand new year ahead of me, knowing with more-or-less certainty where I will be this year, knowing what I really need to accomplish.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Of course, there also remains the tingling suspense of 'Will-I-Won't-I!', its just lovely to vaguely dream about a whole year...the possibilities.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Here's bringing the new one in!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
PS: and learning to schedule publication ;) (okay, <i>not</i> learning to schedule publication.)</div>
</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-1168566192839871562013-12-19T14:57:00.000+05:302013-12-19T14:57:22.595+05:30Strange Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /><br /><i>"I know the last page so well I cant read the first." --</i>Nada Surf,<i> Inside of Love.</i><br /><br /><i>"And but for the sky, there are no fences facing." --</i>Bob Dylan, <i>Mr. Tambourine Man.</i><br /><br />Re-affirmation by a stranger.<br /><br />I was told by an absoltute stranger that I was "absolutely cute" :) which made me very very happy. And made me think of Skand. My first Metro Guy :D I wish I see him again some day and that I remember his face.<br /><br /><br />Eldie makes me very very happy too. I have been grinning at strangers and smiling myself silly these last 2 weeks. Because I am meeting her today. She is so harmless that when she says something to hurt me, which she does too often now, I cant help but smile. and believe that if I could be as happy as I am when I am only just fighting with her...life could be very very beautiful. :D<br /><br /><br />So long as your favourite singers are still singing, its not too late.<br /><br /><br /></div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-54487066975091811302013-07-02T17:14:00.003+05:302013-07-02T17:14:49.824+05:30Wide Eyed & Mortified.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Sometimes, amidst all the staring off into space, I wonder if the people I'm staring at are the Bloggers that I so dedicate-edly follow and slobber to the tunes of.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, when I'm talking to people (who may, or may not, be the aforementioned Bloggers) I speak very loudly. Excitement. Never did develop that voice-modulation-filter that adults aged 8+ seem to have.<br />
<br />
So I say, "HI!!!" like I haven't seen a human being in the past two years which I seem to have spent on Cast Away Island.<br />
<br />
I want to sound sophisticated. Atleast like a 13 year old. so much.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uHRf-mgSgxM/UdK8uO67yVI/AAAAAAAAALM/Cqs8xCXVmIo/s225/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uHRf-mgSgxM/UdK8uO67yVI/AAAAAAAAALM/Cqs8xCXVmIo/s225/images.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Image Courtesy: <a href="http://www.merchandisingplaza.us/Nintendo/NINTENDO-Super-Mario-Bros--Grow-Up-Tee-Shirt-37598" target="_blank">Mario Bros</a>. & the Lovely Magic Mushrooms.</span></div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-40282041575219742852013-05-31T00:17:00.002+05:302013-07-02T18:21:45.844+05:30Forgetron. Erase This Memory.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I remember this day, vaguely but with a familiarity of the emotions that causes my stomach to turn and my eyes to tear up.<div>
I was in 1st Standard. Mrs. Robinson, with her Joker-from-Batman lips all moulin rouge-ed up, was checking our copies (notebooks). I was standing in line. Ms. Poo was standing in front of me in line.</div>
<div>
It was just the two of us in line.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then Mrs. Robinson curled those lips in the nastiest grimace and curled up her nose like a pug. I felt a strange wetness on my cavas-shoe-ed foot. Strange. Very Strange.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The smell of shit pervaded our senses. </div>
<div>
Ms. Poo Shat on my Shoe.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Can you believe this?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'd repressed this memory under a ton of bricks and then some. I told Ms. Rosa (a gummy bear that walks and talks like a Laid-A) about this incident when I was in 10th Standard. I told her I was unsure of the veracity of the story -- maybe it was just a nightmare, maybe it was a lie I'd made up [it sounded like a lie I would make up].</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ms. Rosa asked Ms. Poo if this was true. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ms. Poo blushed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She blushed.</div>
<div>
Blushed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The Blush on Ms. Poo's face is evidence enough for me. </div>
<div>
I wonder how this story sounds, coming from Ms. Poo. A whole lot more amusing I'm sure.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She does not (neither do you.) understand the level of shitty that is accomplished in washing somebody else's shit off your shoe. Off your <i>Canvas Shoes.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
She had the audacity to say "<i>I didn't do it. She must have.</i>"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Makes my mind crack and my butt boggle.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I missed recess and games, standing in the sun, waiting for my shoe to dry.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--9jgA1VYZQM/UdLMG-LwvzI/AAAAAAAAALc/PQByxnLcaqQ/s576/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--9jgA1VYZQM/UdLMG-LwvzI/AAAAAAAAALc/PQByxnLcaqQ/s640/untitled.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Image Courtesy: Me and the World without Forgetron.</i></span></div>
</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-23669142816189007122013-05-31T00:17:00.000+05:302015-08-18T11:53:27.625+05:30In the Darkness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In the Darkness.<br />
Awake--heart-thumping, brain-racing, blood freezing<br />
Afraid, Terrified.<br />
<br />
I wonder when it will stop.<br />
The cheating, the lying,<br />
the loving and hating.<br />
The hands-searching in the night,<br />
always knowing, always expecting,<br />
A response. Committed or Not-always waiting.<br />
<br />
Just a touch away from being<br />
stupid, rash, insensitive.<br />
<br />
In the Darkness.<br />
A heat, a magnet. A heart breaking tug.<br />
Hands & legs. Tangled thoughts and confused hearts.<br />
<br />
In the Darkness.<br />
Shadows cast-unknowing and unknowable.<br />
Imperceptible.<br />
<br />
Confessions of no-love.<br />
It breaks my heart-<br />
to be that person in the Darkness-<br />
hurtful, hurt.<br />
--<i>h.c</i></div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-18533821387016003142013-02-13T00:48:00.002+05:302013-02-13T00:48:50.189+05:30"Here's looking at you, Kid."<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
And here, is realization, looking at me.<br />
I have to confess. I Love You. And not the easy to ignore-somewhere in the back of my mind-sure someday-kinda love. I mean the kind that you need to capitalize each word in the sentence for-kind of love. I love You. I Love you. <i>sigh.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I wish I never have to see your face, never have to see you smile. never have to see you not. never have to hear another joke about your love. I wish I never have to sense it or feel it. and I would die to be able to avoid that. I hate <i>that</i> I love you much more <i>than</i> I love you.<br />
<br />
Its giving me a sense of morbidity and a derivative peace to keep repeating the phrase.<br />
<br />
<dd style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-right: 0px;"><b><br /></b></dd><dd style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-right: 0px;"><b>"Rick</b>: I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.</dd><dd style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-right: 0px;"><b>Ilsa</b>: But what about us?</dd><dd style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-right: 0px;"><b>Rick</b>: We'll always have Paris. We didn't have it before...we'd...we'd lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.</dd><dd style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-right: 0px;"><b>Ilsa</b>: When I said I would never leave you...</dd><dd style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px; margin-bottom: 0.1em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-right: 0px;"><b>Rick</b>: And you never will. But I've got a job to do too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that. Now, now. <b>Here's looking at you, kid."</b></dd></div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-1013237368880206952012-12-17T00:58:00.001+05:302012-12-17T00:58:39.625+05:30Films & I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I could fool myself for a long long time really. I could go on believing we could be friends and the practical earthy side of me would just be ok.<br />
That romance was not something <i>I</i> felt at all, just something intellectual that I thought about but never ever touched.<br />
<br />
But THAT isn't true. There is a lot of hot drama brewing inside. Steaming me up. I wish I could kick you. Fists against your flimsy chest and cry in a pathetic filmy voice. All the while screaming...aisa kyun kara aisa kyun kara and nahi nahi.<br />
<br />
But then practical earthy me would start laughing at pathetic filmy me. and that would be how the scene ends. Curtains.</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-3463582824163582712012-12-17T00:29:00.000+05:302015-08-18T11:54:08.727+05:30say.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Yesterday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">You said<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">I will call you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">And we would talk about<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">The past,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">The Future,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">The world as it slept,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Friends and family,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Your past,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Those other things,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">The world as it awoke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">But.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">You never called<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">And I find myself awaiting,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">A call that doesn’t ring<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">A letter that never arrives<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">A message in a bottle<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">A whisper in the night<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Mornings have dawned<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">And I haven’t slept a wink<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">And I’m barely alive<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">And I’m dying with every blink.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">The weather’s getting colder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">The Fog is getting thicker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Life is getting harder<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">And dreams are long dead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">The whispering night wind<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Brings me no peace<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">The flying papers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Bring me no news<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">I feel utterly alone--<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">The train as it weeps in the distance—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">And tomorrow will find me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Cheerful and chatty<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Drowning out the quiet of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">A call that </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">doesn't</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"> ring<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">A letter that never arrives<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">A message in a bottle<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">A whisper in the night<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">And the weeping train and the whispering night winds and the rustling papers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">They bring me no rest.</span></div>
--<i>h.c</i></div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-8908074938093989572012-11-25T01:39:00.001+05:302012-11-25T13:15:50.881+05:30Untitled.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Slow deliberate writing. Explaining itself. Taking its time, apologetic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">I am disappointed. Good writing is rare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">A Picture of Dorian Gray </span></i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">is the funniest book I have read in the longest time. The kind of joy and silly realization that you cant hold in despite the self conscious embarrassment of looking like an “affected” person.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Good writing inspires good writing. The trick to writing well, is reading great. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">I fancy myself as Lord Henry. A good narrator will always make you feel like its your thoughts being voiced, you view established and published.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><strike>One </strike> Another one of my loves has found a woman I believe. And though he probably doesn't know my name, I am heart broken.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">wait. Regardless of what he knows or doesn't, what I know is painful. dramatically so.</span></div>
</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-57440664433119257272012-11-13T01:09:00.001+05:302012-11-13T01:09:08.857+05:30Mimic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I realized some while back that I was completely incapable of hating people. Regardless.<br />
Today, I realized the sad sad corollary...I can't love people.<br />
<br />
Lukewarm, Lukewarm. I am too complacent.<br />
<br />
Like a fanny fart. neither here nor there.<br />
<br />
_____________________________________________________<br />
<br />
Because I realized today that Ms. Sunshine is not the love of my life because:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Because there's so much water under the bridge that the bridge is floating on it...and at risk of going under</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Because i think i love him today but i may change my mind tomorrow</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">00:29 </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Because life is too complicated n my few friends are too precious to throw at the whim of love n its intricacies</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Because im super scared that he will b hung up on her n i cant have him preoccupied about someone else</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">00:30 </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Because he will always belong to a million people n never just to me</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">00:31 </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Because i dont do sharing well n im afraid to venture into the area of hpw much i may love him...or how little</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">00:32 </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Million n one reasons but the top most being that at this stage weve both fucked around n mucked up so much that 'simply us' wont be simple or us for him or for.me...</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">There are too many ppl involved n i love all of them</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="1" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: start;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="margin: 0px; width: 683px;"><hr color="#cccccc" noshade="" size="1" />
</td><td nowrap="" style="color: #aaaaaa; font-size: 10px; margin: 0px;">19 minutes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">00:52 </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">N i like that i have such precious people in my life...people ive held.on to for so long that the thought of not having them is unfathomable n horrible as far as fathomable</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">00:53 </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">N i like his woman</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Like...ive come to genuinely like her...n as an outsider i like their relationdhip n wouldn want to do them any harm</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span style="display: block; font-size: 13px; padding-left: 6em;">Im stepping back :) n thats that</span><span style="display: block; font-size: 13px; padding-left: 6em;"><br /></span><span style="display: block; font-size: 13px; padding-left: 6em;"><br /></span><span style="display: block; font-size: 13px; padding-left: 6em;"><br /></span><span style="display: block; font-size: 13px; padding-left: 6em;">____________________________________________________________________________</span><span style="display: block; font-size: 13px; padding-left: 6em;"><br /></span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">and then i felt...so grownup. </span></div>
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handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-37842940429902291242012-11-01T01:54:00.002+05:302012-11-01T01:54:50.647+05:30Thoughts in Abstraction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Like sitting in a room and watching a giant Dog curl, oblivious to you.<br />
<br />
A Dog because of the familiarity and the homeyness they inspire.<br />
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A giant because it makes you feel so small. delicate. fragile. not entirely real.<br />
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Abstracted abstract thoughts.<br />
<br />
Even with you, such a vast space of thoughts in between. A gap where your thoughts lie. in wait. I can never reach across this to you...<br />
<br />
Are you there?</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-38603222659120042592012-10-25T00:43:00.000+05:302012-10-25T00:43:24.122+05:30Just a Narrative<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The Doctor came by today.<br />
I have decided to follow her advice: Think in narrative, dont stress the fools.<br />
<br />
So basically, not thinking about the actions of sunshine while sunshine plays around and brightens someone else's day. It is quiet the effort.<br />
<br />
The Doctor, after approximately 3 years, opened her heart to me...poured it right out. She says she realizes, after all this time, that she is not the victim. Mr. Lonely is. Mr. Lonely is to be left alone and the doctor, not stressing the fool that is Mr. Lonely is to proceed to not think about it and well, think only in factual narrative.<br />
<br />
The Doctor is working harder than ever ignoring the stressors.<br />
I will too. Work is the greatest distraction so I will now return to the Moroccan Labour Code.<br />
<br />
The Narrative:<br />
Wakes up in the afternoon. Heart to heart with the Doctor. Proceed to waste the entire day. Proceed to invite 2 friends over. Sunshine breaks my heart. Proceed to not stress the fool. Proceed to hugging them goodbye. Proceed to waste some more time on the computer. Proceed to being ignored by Lil Miss. Proceed to lick wounds. Proceed to Sleep.<br />
Gnyt!</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-41231264036408752872012-10-21T01:21:00.002+05:302012-10-21T01:21:17.852+05:30Inspired By Raji.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Everything she saw became a symbol of the life she had chosen not to take, her anti-existence.<br />
The children in the streets, the groups of friends by the chai stalls, the dogs playing in the streets. Even the beggars in all their aimless, wandering glory who seemed satisfied to sit under the eaves and out of the slight drizzle.<br />
<br />
For a minute she regretted choosing to never be satisfied.<br />
<br />
But she just wasn't happy with that thought.</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-67130014309215276112012-09-03T00:03:00.000+05:302012-09-03T00:03:49.662+05:30All in one<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last week on the Metro I saw a stranger. She reminded me of a friend. A friend I've long since lost touch with. But there was something about the back of her head and the way she moved....a vague recollection of an old friend. Vartika. I miss you sometimes. I wish we were in touch.<div>
______________________________________________________</div>
<div>
My life has been divided into 3 segments now that I am full time employed. </div>
<div>
1. The work life: Fucking starting from 8 in the morning to 11 in the night and sometimes in my mundane and unbelievably "keep-it-real-just-another-boring-day-at-work" dream sequences. The work life is tiring and it has changed my life philosophy from "smile a little" to "just get it done." blech. The work itself, I like. The hours, O God.</div>
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<br /></div>
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2. The Home Life: This I can do in one word only: Sundays. Sundays are the only little bit of time when I am not rushing to or from work. And my life has become an endless pursuit of The Sunday. I make plans as early as two weeks, three weeks in advance. Because I know I'm only free on sundays. So it is quite easy to keep my social calender very full.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
3. The Metro Life: The In-Transit period is the MOST fun I have on an average day. And the Metro, to be truthful, has been a source of much mirth. Once this guy accidentally held my hand when I got off the yellow line...so I gave him a very dirty dirty burn-in-hell look. and he was so SHOCKED. He'd genuinely been distracted (by the same passenger-security fight I'd been distracted by) and thought it was his girlfriend's hand. And the kicker is that the moment of confusion was broken by his girlfriend's laughter. </div>
<div>
Also, this other time, a fellow passenger kid started screaming in the most "paranormal activity" way when a firang smiled at him. THAT was hi-larious.</div>
<div>
Yesterday, I was walking towards the ladies coach and this guy asked me if he could have some water since I was carrying the bottle in hand. So I handed it to him and asked him to hurry up because I wanted to board the train. He said "no, its okay." and fucking walked away with my bottle of water.</div>
<div>
O metro!</div>
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_______________________________________________________________</div>
<div>
In other news. My life right now is the worst kind of ride. I am tired Allll the frikkin time and there's no going home and just sleeping. To top it all off, I've personally ensured that I am in the middle of oh-so-many dramas that I doubt I will ever have thinking space inside my head again. A little bit of me is dying...that distant voice echo? That's me. Help.</div>
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_________________________________________________________</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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And not that it needs saying, or that ANY woman on Earth needs a reminder.</div>
<div>
Men are absolute fucking douchebags. I am currently...tussling?...with three completely independent and absolutely snow-flake unique kinds of Douches. Three. </div>
<div>
Apart from the Delhi skill of never looking a stranger in the eye, always listening to your music so you can drown out the lech calls, and generally passing through the entire outside world as if you're the only one in it. Never make eye contact with strangers in Delhi. They think its an invite. Theyre very uninitiated in the ways of a woman.</div>
</div>
handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-67222137737921118972012-07-29T14:29:00.001+05:302012-07-29T15:08:58.096+05:30Show me a Human Being with Balls and I will show you genuine surprise.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white;">I recently came across this: </span><span style="background-color: white;">
</span><a href="http://blog.blanknoise.org/2012/07/guwahati-shame-on-your-blame.html">http://blog.blanknoise.org/2012/07/guwahati-shame-on-your-blame.html</a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
and it pained me for ...well...it still hurts. It seems like an inadequate response....hurt, or sorrow. Anger. now <i>that </i>I could accept, I could work with being angry. But it just made me feel so defeated and sad. whats worse is that I can continue living my life, I can still pretend that this did not just happen in my country in the past month. I can pretend this does NOT reflect on ME. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But it does. It does reflect on me, on my inability to create a better world, on my inability to do more, on my inability to even know, or imagine what I could have done in these circumstances, on my inability to effect change. If i witnessed it...what would i do? who would i call? would i also think that the best thing to do is record it? does writing down my thoughts like this help anyone?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was upset and I told one of my friends that I just found out about this...he said "you're finding out NOW?" emphasis on my lateness in apprising myself of the news. Seriously? what good did it do for me to find out <i>even </i>then? I have not done anything. You have not done anything. This article dates back to 15th July. half a month has passed. we have done nothing. this reflects on me. </div>
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</div>handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-28105731763604669492012-04-29T22:43:00.001+05:302012-04-29T22:43:23.691+05:30On a High<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Happy Birthday! May the sun shine in the corners of your mind, may every decision you make take you closer to a deeper meaning & purpose, and may your smile never falter.<br />
I haven’t felt so happy in a long time. The sun is out again. The rains are dancing on your fingertips and everything is exactly where it should be.<br />
College makes me feel so self conscious. I find that in the past five years I’ve become less and less spontaneous…I’m scared, paranoid, and overly conscious. But this last semester has been about living out my new year’s resolution, making a fool of myself at every given opportunity and I have done it well. :D. I am proud to say that people think I am an inefficient, unfunny, uncouth, nincompoop. I am happy.<br />
</div>handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8278855110214684985.post-56556299743019650702012-04-29T22:40:00.003+05:302012-04-30T03:06:25.807+05:30Snap Happy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
Each good book is like an acid trip…once is never enough. Every subsequent good book will remind you of your previous trips and make you wanna relive them all…make you want to spin with your thoughts like they made you…make you wanna forget who you were & be a character instead…make you wanna cry though nothing is wrong, make you wanna smile when life loses meaning, make you wanna pull punches against the wall in mad frustration when you’d just found your zen. Sigh. A good book can change your life. And each good book is reminiscent of all the others. & every time you read something worthwhile, you’ll wonder how you thought you didn’t have the time!</div>handscleanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03123268367721518378noreply@blogger.com0