i don't wanna go to work today. i wanna stay at home, watch the rest of the movie on HBO, order in chinese, read more didius falco's, take a nap whenever and just chill. i don't wanna go to work
arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
and then, there's the inevitable, unavoidable, insufferable presence of the toad.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
mehfooz
mehfooz. people on telly were discussing the connotations of the word and i thought it neatly captures my life at the moment. but then i see a young girl has walked out on life. everyone else's and her's.
a stranger's death shouldn't matter.
how much tired do you have to be? how much alone do you have to be? how much scared do you have to be?
or maybe the question should be how much more. when do the existential blues cease to be just so?
a stranger's death shouldn't matter.
how much tired do you have to be? how much alone do you have to be? how much scared do you have to be?
or maybe the question should be how much more. when do the existential blues cease to be just so?
Sunday, August 27, 2006
the cat, the hat and the spider had to move to the kitchen garden. the gardener is getting a new lawn and rosebeds ready for spring. ofcourse the bat tagged along to see where they were going, but they pretended not to notice him.
the spider being more used to sudden changes was the first one to settle in. but then again, he's always had that cool, sophisticated, spider-around-town confidence. just along the kitchen wall there is a nice lemon tree and the spider set up its home there. it put up its sixty-four cornered web, weaved in some magenta balsam petals to give it more colour and got some fireflies upside down in his web to complete the low-lighting arrangements. he also hooked up with the crickets in the basil bush to get a surround-chirping system.
the cat and the hat were very impressed with the spider's creative genius. and they agreed that unlike some creative creatures who go on moaning and throwing orders and tantrums at the same time, the spider was quite efficiently creative. however, the hat thought that the magenta was a bit too loud and would disturb the spider's sleep cycle and that stark white would have given the web a modern minimalist look. the cat disagreed. but the cat always liked flamboyance so...
they spent the first two days tearing around the garden, sun-bathing in the vegetable patch, making friends with the sparrows and the insomniac crow who lived on the window sill and who was fed cheese by the cook every night after dinner. and every evening they'd drop in at the lemon tree to admire the spider's new web and carry on talking there till even the insomniac crow fell asleep.
on the third morning, they went back to their old place to find that it has all been dug up. the gardener looked a bit shame-faced but told them that it'd all be worth it when the lawn goes velvety and the roses start blooming. he also promised to put in some white and pink roses to please the hat. the cat was feeling a bit lost. so the hat decided that they needed to get their own tree in the kitchen garden and stay there till the gardener gives them the green signal.
the cat knew they'd have to do that. but it was feeling a bit cross for not having thought of it earlier and it was also not used to moving about. so when the hat suggested the pomegranate tree, it told the hat not to be silly. the hat was a bit put out. see, the problem was that the hat knew the names of only three fruits - pomegranate, mango and lemon (just because the spider lived on it). since the lemon tree was already taken, and there were no mango trees in the garden, the hat didn't know what to suggest. so it punched the cat and asked it to find a tree since the cat was so clever. this last bit was sarcasm - which is when you say a thing and mean quite the opposite to irritate another person. but its not like saying white for black, that's just plain making things up.
now the cat was not much better than the hat at knowing the names of its fruits. it didn't even know what a mango is (and in its defence, cats are mostly not required to know about mangoes), but it did know what a pear is. since there were no pear trees in the kitchen garden either, that was out of question. so it punched the hat back and swished its tail about in a superior manner. they fought a bit more, without knowing that the bat was watching them and eaves-dropping for all its worth. finally, they decided to stay on the tree in the middle of the kitchen garden - a shortish tree with lots of low branches, narrow new-moon like leaves and a nice spicy smell.and the tree had a nice platformish space midway up its trunk, right where the branches started growing out.
however, after wrapping up the fight and a round of saying how sorry they were and that its alright, not to worry to each other, when the hat and the cat got to their tree, they found the bat there. the bat being the horrible creature it is, grinned at them and asked them if they liked his new home. the poor hat and the cat were so distressed that they could hardly speak, they asked the bat why he needed a new home, since its part of the garden was undisturbed. the bat grinned some more and said in sugary tones that it was missing them and when it heard them talking about their tree it thought it would move right in to keep them company.
the hat was so angry that it wanted to kill the bat right on the tree, but the cat dragged it away to the vegetable patch and calmed it down. the cat also pointed out that since the bat had got their first, it had a claim to the tree, whether they liked it or not. the hat said something extremely rude about the bat and its claim and settled in for a nap. this time they needed to count till fifty-three to go to sleep and the cat messed up twice and had to start afresh - once after he'd gotten to eleven and lost it and then the second time after having reached all the way to nineteen.
in the evening, they went over to the spider's as usual and the hat started telling him all about the bat even before reaching the foot of the lemon tree. the spider listened to it patiently and asked a few questions. it started frowning a lot and hummed a tune from one of those top of the chirp numbers that the hat didn't care much about. the spider also agreed with the cat that beating the bat to a pulp was certainly not a good idea. he told the hat that non-violence (which is when you don't beat up a person but make his life miserable anyway) is a better way of living life and gave it quite a bat-like grin. since the cat was still stuck on the idea of fairness, the spider drew the hat aside and the two of them had a long chat. the cat was horribly curious and was dying to know what they were talking about, but sat with its tail straight up and pretended to be above such things.
then the two of them strolled over to the basil bush and when they came back they wouldn't tell the cat anything. the cat begged and pleaded and threatened and left the tree twice to return back from halfway, but still they would only tell it that they'd been talking about fair means. when the cat was almost on the verge of crying , the hat and the spider relented and took him along to the tree. they found the bat sitting there with a sick expression on its face and a new band of crickets who were experimenting with trance and metal rock practising for their next gig. when the bat saw the spider it grew even sicker. the bat had highly sensitive ears and the when the crickets hit a particular pitch , the bat felt its head buzzing and spinning. he was on the verge of throwing up on the crickets and was waiting for them to finish so he could pick up a fight. but when it saw the spider coming, he knew it was pointless anyway.
without saying a word the bat flew away from the tree, though before he left he pulled a horribly rude face at the hat and swooshed down to tug the cat's tail. the crickets who'd stopped in the meanwhile, burst out laughing. but they were mostly laughing at the bat, so the cat didn't mind. they all went back to the kitchen steps for a small party, where the cook had put out milk and cheese bits. though the spider scoffed at the milk and said it was a confirmed dew drinker, it happily packed in the cheese morsels. later on, they went back to the lemon tree for a long discussion about decor and the crickets pitched in with a lot of suggestions because being in the entertainment biz they knew a lot about what's cool.
the spider being more used to sudden changes was the first one to settle in. but then again, he's always had that cool, sophisticated, spider-around-town confidence. just along the kitchen wall there is a nice lemon tree and the spider set up its home there. it put up its sixty-four cornered web, weaved in some magenta balsam petals to give it more colour and got some fireflies upside down in his web to complete the low-lighting arrangements. he also hooked up with the crickets in the basil bush to get a surround-chirping system.
the cat and the hat were very impressed with the spider's creative genius. and they agreed that unlike some creative creatures who go on moaning and throwing orders and tantrums at the same time, the spider was quite efficiently creative. however, the hat thought that the magenta was a bit too loud and would disturb the spider's sleep cycle and that stark white would have given the web a modern minimalist look. the cat disagreed. but the cat always liked flamboyance so...
they spent the first two days tearing around the garden, sun-bathing in the vegetable patch, making friends with the sparrows and the insomniac crow who lived on the window sill and who was fed cheese by the cook every night after dinner. and every evening they'd drop in at the lemon tree to admire the spider's new web and carry on talking there till even the insomniac crow fell asleep.
on the third morning, they went back to their old place to find that it has all been dug up. the gardener looked a bit shame-faced but told them that it'd all be worth it when the lawn goes velvety and the roses start blooming. he also promised to put in some white and pink roses to please the hat. the cat was feeling a bit lost. so the hat decided that they needed to get their own tree in the kitchen garden and stay there till the gardener gives them the green signal.
the cat knew they'd have to do that. but it was feeling a bit cross for not having thought of it earlier and it was also not used to moving about. so when the hat suggested the pomegranate tree, it told the hat not to be silly. the hat was a bit put out. see, the problem was that the hat knew the names of only three fruits - pomegranate, mango and lemon (just because the spider lived on it). since the lemon tree was already taken, and there were no mango trees in the garden, the hat didn't know what to suggest. so it punched the cat and asked it to find a tree since the cat was so clever. this last bit was sarcasm - which is when you say a thing and mean quite the opposite to irritate another person. but its not like saying white for black, that's just plain making things up.
now the cat was not much better than the hat at knowing the names of its fruits. it didn't even know what a mango is (and in its defence, cats are mostly not required to know about mangoes), but it did know what a pear is. since there were no pear trees in the kitchen garden either, that was out of question. so it punched the hat back and swished its tail about in a superior manner. they fought a bit more, without knowing that the bat was watching them and eaves-dropping for all its worth. finally, they decided to stay on the tree in the middle of the kitchen garden - a shortish tree with lots of low branches, narrow new-moon like leaves and a nice spicy smell.and the tree had a nice platformish space midway up its trunk, right where the branches started growing out.
however, after wrapping up the fight and a round of saying how sorry they were and that its alright, not to worry to each other, when the hat and the cat got to their tree, they found the bat there. the bat being the horrible creature it is, grinned at them and asked them if they liked his new home. the poor hat and the cat were so distressed that they could hardly speak, they asked the bat why he needed a new home, since its part of the garden was undisturbed. the bat grinned some more and said in sugary tones that it was missing them and when it heard them talking about their tree it thought it would move right in to keep them company.
the hat was so angry that it wanted to kill the bat right on the tree, but the cat dragged it away to the vegetable patch and calmed it down. the cat also pointed out that since the bat had got their first, it had a claim to the tree, whether they liked it or not. the hat said something extremely rude about the bat and its claim and settled in for a nap. this time they needed to count till fifty-three to go to sleep and the cat messed up twice and had to start afresh - once after he'd gotten to eleven and lost it and then the second time after having reached all the way to nineteen.
in the evening, they went over to the spider's as usual and the hat started telling him all about the bat even before reaching the foot of the lemon tree. the spider listened to it patiently and asked a few questions. it started frowning a lot and hummed a tune from one of those top of the chirp numbers that the hat didn't care much about. the spider also agreed with the cat that beating the bat to a pulp was certainly not a good idea. he told the hat that non-violence (which is when you don't beat up a person but make his life miserable anyway) is a better way of living life and gave it quite a bat-like grin. since the cat was still stuck on the idea of fairness, the spider drew the hat aside and the two of them had a long chat. the cat was horribly curious and was dying to know what they were talking about, but sat with its tail straight up and pretended to be above such things.
then the two of them strolled over to the basil bush and when they came back they wouldn't tell the cat anything. the cat begged and pleaded and threatened and left the tree twice to return back from halfway, but still they would only tell it that they'd been talking about fair means. when the cat was almost on the verge of crying , the hat and the spider relented and took him along to the tree. they found the bat sitting there with a sick expression on its face and a new band of crickets who were experimenting with trance and metal rock practising for their next gig. when the bat saw the spider it grew even sicker. the bat had highly sensitive ears and the when the crickets hit a particular pitch , the bat felt its head buzzing and spinning. he was on the verge of throwing up on the crickets and was waiting for them to finish so he could pick up a fight. but when it saw the spider coming, he knew it was pointless anyway.
without saying a word the bat flew away from the tree, though before he left he pulled a horribly rude face at the hat and swooshed down to tug the cat's tail. the crickets who'd stopped in the meanwhile, burst out laughing. but they were mostly laughing at the bat, so the cat didn't mind. they all went back to the kitchen steps for a small party, where the cook had put out milk and cheese bits. though the spider scoffed at the milk and said it was a confirmed dew drinker, it happily packed in the cheese morsels. later on, they went back to the lemon tree for a long discussion about decor and the crickets pitched in with a lot of suggestions because being in the entertainment biz they knew a lot about what's cool.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
harassed by parents obsessed with the idea of support, harangued by neighbours in their car-pool-to-school santros, crowded out by young parents hogging the best tables at your favourite restaurants, looked upon by concern by acquaintances who are on the verge of popping out the progeny by the time they hit the next traffic signal, deemed as unsightly adult-acne like blemishes on the society by potential landlords and employers - life is hard indeed for the singletons. we need to stick together to survive the onslaught.
yet it is those very people who undermnine the cause giving the the smug-marrieds their unfair advantage. shaadi.com and
8-minute dating services, times matrimonial and casual hook-ups, enduring abuse and living with neglect, ceasing to be meaningful to another person yet clinging on to the EMI-enabled shared life - just how much do people fear being alone?
there is something very sad when a person begins to think that by himself or herself, they can't claim a complete life. not that they have to be resigned to being lonely for the rest of their lives, not that they have to forget how nice it is to get an unexpected daisy, not that they have to deny how nice it is to wake up to someone holding them.
but to think for a moment that you are not good enough for you is a great injustice to life.
and no, most people are not likely to end up dead on the durry with red ants eating their left eye.
yet it is those very people who undermnine the cause giving the the smug-marrieds their unfair advantage. shaadi.com and
8-minute dating services, times matrimonial and casual hook-ups, enduring abuse and living with neglect, ceasing to be meaningful to another person yet clinging on to the EMI-enabled shared life - just how much do people fear being alone?
there is something very sad when a person begins to think that by himself or herself, they can't claim a complete life. not that they have to be resigned to being lonely for the rest of their lives, not that they have to forget how nice it is to get an unexpected daisy, not that they have to deny how nice it is to wake up to someone holding them.
but to think for a moment that you are not good enough for you is a great injustice to life.
and no, most people are not likely to end up dead on the durry with red ants eating their left eye.
i wish i could make things better for the superwomen and men (not supermen, there was only one superman and he wore his undies on the outside, so less said about that, the better) in my life.yes, i have quite a few of them and i rely on them to make my existence as a mere mortal better. do i thank them for it? hell, no. it's their job to take care of me.
they are intelligent, sensitive, articulate, creative and mostly people that are very nice to know. not for them is the bland cover-all phrase - great personality - they are super-fucking-awesome people.they are vibrant, interesting and as warm as melted marsh-mallows on cocoa. they know how to balance ambitions with dreams. and they are a reservoir of knowledge on pop trivia and coolest club wear, they can dance a mean salsa and can make sense of george orwell, not to say anything about steamed pomfret maach, tax returns, mutual funds and equities. yet, sometimes they get handed a raw deal in life. happens.
but what bothers me is that these women and men have a complete inability to look beyond themselves when it comes to figuring out what went wrong. why they can't stop apologising for mistakes other fuckwits make, why they can't stop feeling inadequate because of the lack of perception of some pea-brained moron, why they can't recognise the fact that they do not HAVE to put up with shit - is completely beyond me. i wish for once someone would have it in them to say it oud and clear "look, it's not me, it's you. that's what the problem is. you are just not good enough and i know it."
people should never be apologetic about being nice. god knows and they know, there's not enough niceness around.
they are intelligent, sensitive, articulate, creative and mostly people that are very nice to know. not for them is the bland cover-all phrase - great personality - they are super-fucking-awesome people.they are vibrant, interesting and as warm as melted marsh-mallows on cocoa. they know how to balance ambitions with dreams. and they are a reservoir of knowledge on pop trivia and coolest club wear, they can dance a mean salsa and can make sense of george orwell, not to say anything about steamed pomfret maach, tax returns, mutual funds and equities. yet, sometimes they get handed a raw deal in life. happens.
but what bothers me is that these women and men have a complete inability to look beyond themselves when it comes to figuring out what went wrong. why they can't stop apologising for mistakes other fuckwits make, why they can't stop feeling inadequate because of the lack of perception of some pea-brained moron, why they can't recognise the fact that they do not HAVE to put up with shit - is completely beyond me. i wish for once someone would have it in them to say it oud and clear "look, it's not me, it's you. that's what the problem is. you are just not good enough and i know it."
people should never be apologetic about being nice. god knows and they know, there's not enough niceness around.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
i saw a stranger smile to himself; the auto-wallah bought jasmines at the traffic signal. there's something incongruous about noticing the smell of rain on earth after it's been raining steadily through the day. there's something incredible about smelling the faint fragrance of lilies in full bloom through the rain. there's something inevitable about life. there's something ineveitable about how fulfilling life can be, for no good reason.
i don't want no respect
There are women who age gracefully and there are women who spend their lives trying to look ten year’s younger and end up in the opposite direction. Well I thought I didn’t have to think about which group I fall in, at least not yet. I try not to gouge out the eyes of the odd person who calls me baby or baba. And people certainly do not score points with me for telling me I look some odd years younger than what they think would be a flattering figure for my age. I’m happy enough being me. Occasionally I regress a bit, but that’s allowed. However I admit my parents got a bit shortchanged when it came to the intellectual capacity of their youngest offspring. My mental growth is a bit stunted. What to do? I am like that only.
OK, so the brother was here and I reveled in my younger sibling role, got a lifetime's supply of fantasy volumes, stole a plastic glow-in-the-dark sword from a child's birthday booty and was feeling what the Cow would say "securely ensconced" in my peter pan complex. Then, THEN, on my way to work the taxi driver called me auntie. Bruised and battered in spirit, I smoked my last YSL menthol from the secret stash, had a cup of extra strong coffee and dragged myself upstairs to key in a short, pithy email describing my trauma to people who should rightfully care about me. Its only fair - if I care about you, you care about me. Except life doesn't follow such simple rules. The buggers started a laughathon and my plea for psychological support was met with helpful and kind responses in the line of
"Aunty Aunty... as in tht Hair Dye ad...."
"you have now officially become part of the generation that doesn't understand people like you"
"The minute I read that the taxiwallah called Rhea aunty, I laughed out so loud one of my colleagues had to apologise to someone he was talking to on the phone. Ooof...Rhea Aunty"
I preferred to make a dignified retort. So I asked them to piss off. Needless to say, this also fell on deaf ears. I was also told that it’s been a long time since I was last insulted, not counting the beggar, and it was high time I had another one coming. Well thank you very much. More hilarity and what certain people think is a dazzling display of wits followed. AND THEY STARTED PICKING ON MY NEW HAIRSTYLE!!!
"Your haircut made respect emanate out of the taxi driver, which is why he called you aunty. You're still a goddess to us in mind and spirit, irrespective of haircuts"
"Yes, Rhea, you are my favorite goddess Aunty. In mind, spirit and haircut, you are the auntiest of all aunties. The epitome of aunty-hood is found in you, and your haircut. When I think of women in ill-fighting nighties, cooking mangsho and bhaat for Laltu (Shona) and Bulu (AKA bablu), I see you."
I decided that maybe I wasn’t being able to put across how traumatised I was. Still expecting the better of people (I AM dumb. I said so!) I laid bare my tortured soul. ( I also told them they are not going to be invited for my bablu’s onnoprashon). I conveyed to the best of my abilities that I was now being reduced to a quivering bundle of nerves now and how I can't stop looking at mirrors. What next? anondobajar alliance, digha for honeymoon, sea-bathing in salwars, and of course the ill-fitting nightie with a dupatta across if someone comes to the house, standing guard in front of nursery schools and tutorials, pujor bajar at hatibagan, a little flirting with pintu the cablewallah, dokkhineshwar every now and then and city centre for a special treat... it’s all flashing in front of my eyes.
I was told i'm funny. Funny? Man, I’m bleeding here. I was also told not to forget to include in my vision of future "getting the parar women together for pujo celebration and group meals, taking overt interest in the young women in the neighborhood ("Sonali, Tor ar amar boyesh beshi difference nei. Tuir amar kotha shon, Raju toke bhalo bashe na. tor mon ekhon poda-sona e thaka uchit"), getting all excited about watching a hindi cinema in the theater ("oof, Abhishek Bacchan ki acting korlo. Bablu, tor babar hairstyle ek-dom Abhishek-er moto, na?")"
Ogo amar ki hobe go?
OK, so the brother was here and I reveled in my younger sibling role, got a lifetime's supply of fantasy volumes, stole a plastic glow-in-the-dark sword from a child's birthday booty and was feeling what the Cow would say "securely ensconced" in my peter pan complex. Then, THEN, on my way to work the taxi driver called me auntie. Bruised and battered in spirit, I smoked my last YSL menthol from the secret stash, had a cup of extra strong coffee and dragged myself upstairs to key in a short, pithy email describing my trauma to people who should rightfully care about me. Its only fair - if I care about you, you care about me. Except life doesn't follow such simple rules. The buggers started a laughathon and my plea for psychological support was met with helpful and kind responses in the line of
"Aunty Aunty... as in tht Hair Dye ad...."
"you have now officially become part of the generation that doesn't understand people like you"
"The minute I read that the taxiwallah called Rhea aunty, I laughed out so loud one of my colleagues had to apologise to someone he was talking to on the phone. Ooof...Rhea Aunty"
I preferred to make a dignified retort. So I asked them to piss off. Needless to say, this also fell on deaf ears. I was also told that it’s been a long time since I was last insulted, not counting the beggar, and it was high time I had another one coming. Well thank you very much. More hilarity and what certain people think is a dazzling display of wits followed. AND THEY STARTED PICKING ON MY NEW HAIRSTYLE!!!
"Your haircut made respect emanate out of the taxi driver, which is why he called you aunty. You're still a goddess to us in mind and spirit, irrespective of haircuts"
"Yes, Rhea, you are my favorite goddess Aunty. In mind, spirit and haircut, you are the auntiest of all aunties. The epitome of aunty-hood is found in you, and your haircut. When I think of women in ill-fighting nighties, cooking mangsho and bhaat for Laltu (Shona) and Bulu (AKA bablu), I see you."
I decided that maybe I wasn’t being able to put across how traumatised I was. Still expecting the better of people (I AM dumb. I said so!) I laid bare my tortured soul. ( I also told them they are not going to be invited for my bablu’s onnoprashon). I conveyed to the best of my abilities that I was now being reduced to a quivering bundle of nerves now and how I can't stop looking at mirrors. What next? anondobajar alliance, digha for honeymoon, sea-bathing in salwars, and of course the ill-fitting nightie with a dupatta across if someone comes to the house, standing guard in front of nursery schools and tutorials, pujor bajar at hatibagan, a little flirting with pintu the cablewallah, dokkhineshwar every now and then and city centre for a special treat... it’s all flashing in front of my eyes.
I was told i'm funny. Funny? Man, I’m bleeding here. I was also told not to forget to include in my vision of future "getting the parar women together for pujo celebration and group meals, taking overt interest in the young women in the neighborhood ("Sonali, Tor ar amar boyesh beshi difference nei. Tuir amar kotha shon, Raju toke bhalo bashe na. tor mon ekhon poda-sona e thaka uchit"), getting all excited about watching a hindi cinema in the theater ("oof, Abhishek Bacchan ki acting korlo. Bablu, tor babar hairstyle ek-dom Abhishek-er moto, na?")"
Ogo amar ki hobe go?
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
i saw a lot of broken things today - broken people, broken dreams, broken promises to a broken child. there was nothing i could do except feel helpless.
the unfairness of life and the baser side of human nature always win. and it seems so futile to try and repair the damage, because you know, more than anyone else, you know some things can't be mended. no matter how much you try. yet, you still have to go through the motions, you still have to pretend that you hope things can be better, sometimes you even fall for your own pretenses.
but i stopped short at feeling angry. even before i could realise the futility of it, i was asking myself how many people and promises will i walk away from, when its my turn.
the unfairness of life and the baser side of human nature always win. and it seems so futile to try and repair the damage, because you know, more than anyone else, you know some things can't be mended. no matter how much you try. yet, you still have to go through the motions, you still have to pretend that you hope things can be better, sometimes you even fall for your own pretenses.
but i stopped short at feeling angry. even before i could realise the futility of it, i was asking myself how many people and promises will i walk away from, when its my turn.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Sunday, August 13, 2006
i didn't realise how long i've been out of my usual groove of things. every unread e-mail, every unanswered text, every unreturned call kept piling up. i never felt the tomorrow bit of "i'll do it tomorrow" passing me by. and then when i got back to my usual pace, i find i've been causing some alarm. but before i could be properly apologetic about it, i felt a teeny bit happy that i AM actually missed.
not that i am reluctant to take my friends for granted or vice versa, not that i don't know where i stand with them , but once in a while it feels nice to know. like an unexpected present.
and while i'm on that topic, i read a blog. i'd ask the blogger to check her facts twice. the blogee (i.e. the object of the blog) matches nowhere near that description. i'm embarassed, concerned and overwhelmed.
and doll?????? puhleez. i wanna be a ninja.
not that i am reluctant to take my friends for granted or vice versa, not that i don't know where i stand with them , but once in a while it feels nice to know. like an unexpected present.
and while i'm on that topic, i read a blog. i'd ask the blogger to check her facts twice. the blogee (i.e. the object of the blog) matches nowhere near that description. i'm embarassed, concerned and overwhelmed.
and doll?????? puhleez. i wanna be a ninja.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
what's happening to me?
managed to salvage a part of my life by walking away from work early and felt horribly guilty. what's happening to me?
anyway, went and had a haircut. just when i was getting used to the compliments, certain people with a saturday off and an afternoon of shoe-shopping out of the way told me that i look like a kid with a 70's rajesh khanna hairstyle. and instead of blow-torching them as i should rightfully have done, i was so pathetically glad to see my friends that i couldn't stop grinning the whole afternoon. what's happening to me?
couldn't take more than ten minutes in the pub, came to barista to have a cup of coffee and beat it - felt all the better for it. what's happening to me?
and after i came home, i looked in every mirror in the house trying to see if i look like a baby-faced imbecile. it bothers me. what's happening to me?
anyway, went and had a haircut. just when i was getting used to the compliments, certain people with a saturday off and an afternoon of shoe-shopping out of the way told me that i look like a kid with a 70's rajesh khanna hairstyle. and instead of blow-torching them as i should rightfully have done, i was so pathetically glad to see my friends that i couldn't stop grinning the whole afternoon. what's happening to me?
couldn't take more than ten minutes in the pub, came to barista to have a cup of coffee and beat it - felt all the better for it. what's happening to me?
and after i came home, i looked in every mirror in the house trying to see if i look like a baby-faced imbecile. it bothers me. what's happening to me?
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
i can't believe i have been this time-starved. i feel like hanging me head low in shame and whisper softly - from thee i have been absent in the spring or something in the same vein to put across how miserable i feel being a stranger to my own blog. but a) there are too many people - real, live, non-virtual people - who i need to tell the same thing (less dramatically) and so i can't let a blog take precedence; b) it is not spring and c) for the past few days i've been living a botic existence. so for the time being i remain unapologetic.
i will instead record for posterity how much interesting it is to take a day off from work and get to have your senses tuned at a superhuman level. ever noticed how a fever accentuates all sensations - colour of the leaves, sightof a first orange rose-bud, long-ignored sounds of the resident sparrows, geometric patterns of damp spots on the ceiling, feelings of sadness during a long evening with no-one to smile at? i have.
i will instead record for posterity how much interesting it is to take a day off from work and get to have your senses tuned at a superhuman level. ever noticed how a fever accentuates all sensations - colour of the leaves, sightof a first orange rose-bud, long-ignored sounds of the resident sparrows, geometric patterns of damp spots on the ceiling, feelings of sadness during a long evening with no-one to smile at? i have.
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