The Glass Onion

flickers in the night

2011-11-18T17:08:00.001+05:30

Tonight, the air is so clear, the half-moon turning from yellow to such dazzling light, you could close your eyes and dissolve into the thinness of it. Is this all there is, then? The nostalgia, the sadness of the sweetness of the past? The dreams were built up so much, it reflects in the eyes of everyone all around you, yet you know somewhere even deeper than your sense of self that they are false, that what lies inside is somehow more real, more full, more hollow than anything anybody could have ever dreamt up.

He taught her love--the passion and wild recklessness of it, of throwing yourself into it without thought of self or survival. He taught her the quietness of it, the easy joys, the unpretentious, unrepentant, un-self-conscious simplicity of it. She also learned of destruction, of pouring out and burning out, of building up just to tumble down; learned to despair, enjoy and destroy and be destroyed.

Sometimes, you long for those naive beliefs of childhood, those black-and-whites that were so comforting. It is easy to realize that there are those for whom those still exist, yet you can neither really envy them nor deride them, nor ever try to go back--we all belive what we do and there is no going back once you tread that fragile path to growing up. Yet, there is that wistfulness, always, of a fast-disappearing belief system, though you have no idea where it came from, leaving you with a well-ordered, well-reasoned one. Perhaps it will feel like it fits someday.

She taught her of love, that it could last longer than the toss of fate, that it could mean something deeper than togetherness. She reminded her that the fact that everything that touches you changes you is not as trivial as it seems--and love, when it touches, changes you in ways unexpected. No wonder, then, that shaking it off is never so easy. It stays with your forever. Your only choice, then, is to wear it on yourself, like a tattoo, full of colour and meaning--or like a scar, fading and ignored.

You can never again believe that your sorrow means anything except what it is--a simple feeling that will affect nothing unless you choose to let it. It is only in fiction and perhaps the fictions of your imaginary life that there are grand moments to any emotion, rather than the gentle troughs and peaks of a single long wave of feeling. And you realize that happiness is not something anyone or anything can give you or take away, that it constantly flows from inside you, like life--if you let it.

He showed her love--the unreason and the reason of it, the fleeting, wildly unordered nature of it. That it can multiply madly, gush forth like a storm and disappear like a rainbow, when you're still basking in its beauty, but not really looking at it. He showed her the discomfort of it, the fissures and the ruptures in it, that you can jump into it, immerse yourself in it, float and resurface, get lost, get found, taste the delicate hues of joy, pain, and a million other unnamed emotions and just be madly confused in its deliciousness. She let herself feel. Just feel.

Is this all there is, then? Just you, typing in the middle of the night, to strangers who are friends and friends who are strangers? Just you, being and becoming more you every time you struggle to be you, not be you, hide you behind a mask, escape every mask to reveal you, fear the thought of being you and not being you? Is this all? Just you. Not that there was ever anyone else to begin with.

Love and live

2011-11-05T04:36:00.001+05:30

I've decided that it's absolutely ok and in fact not at all uncool to blog about post-breakup things. Especially since said breakup is now ancient history and pretty much most of the world (and especially me) has stopped giving a damn. Therefore, a note on being alone. Somebody once told me that the hardest part of a breakup is the end of an entity you became a part of, the end of an "us". You return to the state of being "me" again, and in the meanwhile, if you've given enough time and energy to the relationship, you've completely lost track of who that is or even how to be that person. Much madness ensues--the inability to be alone, rebound relationships, etc.

Looking back, this seems like a horrifying way for relationships to work. We live in a culture (that includes a frightening percentage of humanity) that prioritizes the collective over the individual--our ideas of democracy, fashion and even society itself. And love just happily skips along into the party. The popular perception of love seems to be a noble giving up of the ego, of immersing your self in something "greater"--as if greater necessarily need be greater in number and not just scope. I'm all for the idea of building something "greater", but it does seem dangerous to give up being something you are just to be part of something else. Rather, I would imagine love to be something that lets you be exactly who you are and embrace something or someone else in all their uncomfortable, wondrous reality.

And let's face the hard facts--we are all ultimately alone, in body and mind. I'd hardly be the first to point out profoundly that everybody dies alone. Yes, the entire history of humankind, every power struggle and work of art somehow leads back to that fact. We may ignore it or try to erase it by building elaborate fantasies such as happily ever after, true love, and so forth, but there is no getting away from it, really. You are the only one who will ever be there, the only entity, sane or insane, that you will meet all your life. It's nice to have someone along for however long in the ride, but that's all it'll ever be--a little company.

Call me a cynic, but I'd rather face that and hold on to me. And still love and live.

Undone

2011-09-14T21:30:00.000+05:30

What if you stood before an enchanting lake on a hot summer day, a cool, enticing lake, and yet don't step in? All you have to do is strip off your clothes (there's no one looking, and you don't care anyway) and plunge yourself into the delicious water and you know you will forget the harshness of the sun, the thirst of your skin, the dust that coats you. You can imagine the water enfolding you in its embrace and you know instinctively that you can trust that you will enjoy every minute of it. Yet, you stand at the water's edge, looking in, looking around, half-longing, yet holding back.

It's not that you're afraid. You know you can probably swim the depths of this lake. Well, you're not really sure, the water has frightened you in the past--always that fear of drowning. Yet you know that you need to try before you know for sure whether you can swim or not. The only way to confirm or disprove your own fears is by facing them. Yet that's not why you hesitate. Sometimes you enjoy facing those fears, there is a certain excitement to that sense of drowning, almost running out of breath, before you break the surface and remember to kick your feet and move your arms and fill your lungs with oxygen, eyes stinging with water, yet unable to close them to the light that proves that you're alive. No, a little fear of drowning could never dissaude you from the rewards of a swim on a summer day.

But the fact is that you would rather stand here and stare at the sparkling water. There is a hint of a quiet breeze rippling the surface of the lake on the otherwise quiet afternoon, but it doesn't touch you--only stillness all around. The sun is beating down and the grass is letting out that hot humid smell of summer green. Insects dance in a huge column in areas over the grass. And the water beckons. And somehow, this moment is enough. It's enough to know that the water is there without having to throw yourself into it. It's enough to imagine the depths of that pool, imagine being deep in its belly and look up to see the sun streaming in, oddly distorted and pretend you're a fish. It's enough to imagine all the pleasures of finally escaping the dreadful, sultry day and giving in to the beauty of the water. Somehow there is enjoyment in knowing that this is all the moment will be, that it will remain unfulfilled. Yes, this is enough, just this feeling of anticipation.

Not everything must reach its logical or desirable conclusion, must it?

The Hostel Mess Cheatcode

2011-08-30T04:36:00.000+05:30

Perhaps it’s best to start with explanations. A lot of things in life might be more pleasant if an explanation preceded them instead of us gamboling through events like happy things that gambol (?) blindly and get really confused about why water’s wet, love is just not enough (no matter how much really quite awesome songs may claim otherwise), the chicken crossed the road, etc. Life might be a little more enjoyable if it were a little more like this post is going to be and a little less like trying to learn a game of cards you don’t know by observing a bunch of Bengalis playing (i.e., completely incomprehensible, and just when you feel like you’re maybe getting the hang of it, somebody wins and you realize the goal was the opposite of what you thought, and most of the time, you don’t get what people are saying). So. Explanations are in order. Two fact about me should do, I think.

Fact 1: I am lazy. Like really. Like it pisses people off kind of lazy. But as you shall soon see, laziness is not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s quite a lot of work. So, on to…

Fact 2: I tend to over-think things. This, combined with a slight tendency to geekiness and mild OCD of the pattern-finding variety, makes things interesting.

So the explanations are done. (But I now realize that the whole explanation thing is futile because explanations make less sense than the things they explain before the things they explain unfold. Wait, I think I might have said something profound. Let’s examine that… Ah, never mind, too lazy. So, moving on.)

I live in a hostel that’s built like a pyramid. No, its construction didn’t (exactly) involve slave labour and it’s not full of dead people and fabulous wealth (snort) so the pyramid thing refers to what you first thought it referred to, before I distracted you with irrelevant details–the shape. Each floor is slightly smaller than the one below it. I have no idea what the architectural significance of this is, but since I live in the second floor, this creates many, many puzzles and challenges for me. One of the challenges revealed to me that if I were a civilization all by myself, I’d be in what Douglas Adams calls the Survival stage, for the challenge is, “How do I get to the mess to eat?” This may seem like a trivial question. But this is where I ask you to turn your attention to Facts 1 and 2.

Living in the second floor means I expend a lot of energy climbing up and down stairs. And to have to do this for every meal and water refill creates unspeakable anguish for my lazy side. To reduce the monotony and make myself feel better, I decided to over-think things. Fun. So, there are many ways in which you can reach the mess from my room. Cross the corridor, take the stairs at the end, climb down two floors, exit. Cross half the corridor, take the stairs in the middle, cross the other half at the ground floor, exit. Take the stairs in front of my room, cross the corridor at the ground floor, exit. The last option might sound good because the stairs are right in front of me, but the fact is, this is out because it would involve crossing the whole of the ground floor, which, in the pyramid structure, has the longest corridor. So, the first option? Nope. Wrong again. It IS in fact the shortest route, but there are problems. The staircase at the end of each corridor (except on the ground floor) plays host to a lovely little thing called the common dustbin. This is generally a huge plastic drum, and is often filled with… well, let’s say the cats and flies love it. It’s smelly and quite effective in killing any appetite that dares to pass it without the answer to its impossible riddles and it also has to the power to send any satisfied appetite to go commit suicide. The ancient Egyptians, had they met Mr Dustbin, would not have bothered with pressurized acid and such to keep marauders out of their tombs.

It took me just two weeks to figure it out, and the funny looks I get from other, more unadventurous, weary dinner-time travellers were answered with looks of smug superiority. I had the keen intelligence, the courage, the perseverance to figure it out! All you have to do is: Take the middle stairs, thus cleverly avoiding the dreaded Dustbin, cross the other half of the first floor corridor (which is still shorter than the ground floor’s, ha!), take the stairs at the end of the corridor, exit and reach your destination, thus achieving high score of sheer genius.

And then, you go eat mess food.

Sigh. Maybe all we do need is love :D

24

2011-08-26T11:06:00.000+05:30

It is now down to the last hour of my life at 23. It’s been a funny year, brilliant, breathtaking (in happiness and in sorrow), fun and life-changing. I’ve loved the year but I don’t think I’d be able to survive another one like it. The one thing it’s not been is boring. Friends have come and gone faster than imaginable and ideas changed like lightning. Weight was lost and (unfortunately) regained And all the usual inconseqential things that we call life–dinners, breakfasts (yeah, there were quite a few of those, believe it or not), haircuts, heartaches, hobbies, deadlines, books, songs, poetry, papers, languages, roommates, dresses, parties, trips, weddings, breakups, diets, social networks, hugs, gossip, discoveries, rediscoveries, re-rediscoveries… lots and lots of lessons learned.

The chief lesson has been to never plan too far ahead, and for crying out loud, stop the crying out loud and whinining! And spend less time on Facebook. And party more. And talk to more people. And exercise more. And waste less time. And go see the world, there’s bound to be a lot more to it. And hold on to and HUG the people you love. And don’t change anything about your ice-cream consumption habits. But really, mostly, just to never, ever try to guess the turns and trends. So, 23, here’s looking at you, and 24, looking forward to you.

PS. No, I don’t feel like I’m growing old… Am I supposed to?

PPS. If every year of my life were an hour, then 24 would be the perfect year, my favourite time of the day!

And so...

2011-07-08T23:41:00.001+05:30

...life goes on. I come back to this place and look around, at what I created years ago, and filled, in my naivest and most un-self-conscious moments. What brought me back? An email alert for a comment from a stranger on a post I wrote ages ago--he calls me incredibly stupid, this person I don't know from a country I have never visited. My own coldness and lack of reaction to this surprises me. All I really feel is puzzlement, and curiosity. For a few seconds, I stare at the comment, wondering how I should react, what I should feel. Should I delete it? It's insulting and completely unnecessary addition to a space I consider my own. Yet, I cannot bring myself to hit the delete button. I re-read this post, one that seems to me to have been written in a different lifetime, by a different person. It is kind of stupid, I begin to tell myself and then I stop. This is who I was. I'm not going to judge myself, just because this person did so. This person who randomly comments on an old post in the blog of a person he doesn't know and cannot understand. This person who has taken the effort to actually type all that out, only to say something that makes no meaningful contribution to... well, anything. I visit his blog, and realize that even if I wanted to, I could't come up with a vicious retort on his post because it's almost like we're from different species and he's rambling on and on about things that simply don't interest me, the everyday minutiae of his average married (American?) life.

But life does go on. We grow up, we look back, and I, for one, read old comments from friends who are now strangers, strangers who are now friends, and random disturbing people who waltz into your life for short intense periods and disappear forever. We struggle with ordinary, everyday things and we celebrate, we cry, we discover music and we write blog posts. One day, maybe I'll read my own, now juvenile-seeming blog posts and be at a complete loss for things to say. One day, our past selves will be strangers to our present selves. All the pangs we feel for broken romances and broken friendships, the unexpected turns of life, the stomach-clawing excitements, the breath-stealing sorrows, will all just be distant memories and would make about as much sense to our future selves as the blog of this random stranger did to me.

Metaphor

2011-06-08T04:54:00.004+05:30

Everything is metaphor. This fact was suggested to me in a course that was called (loosely) Post-structuralism in connection with language, but the more I think about it, the more it seems to apply to everything under the sun. Language, in whatever form, be it music, dance, or Tamil, is metaphor. But so is everything else we do. Advice is metaphor--my life was like this, so life is like this.

The past is also metaphor. It's built up of our ideas of ourselves, of sense experiences and our own memory, which is never too reliable anyway. The past is a memory of our own selves and our world-view. Everything we believe about the past is built up on our narrative, the grand story of our lives. The past is a metaphor that represents us as we perceive ourselves. When that metaphor is jarred by reality, it is a hard fact to reconcile with. But the metaphor is perhaps the most resilient creature in all of creation. It builds itself up again, till all is in order.

:D

2011-04-03T14:26:00.001+05:30

We won.

A post on a dead blog just to mark this day.

Because we won.

crosses arms, sulks

2009-12-31T19:48:00.002+05:30

I refuse to allude to this silly little event today that everyone else is talking about, especially since it's such a non-event. Talk about humans getting all worked up over a human fabrication, created just to mark another human fabrication (time). Of course, it might be true that nobody but humans are going to get worked up over their own inventions... But still!

See, it's rarely that there is any internal unity in this so-called unit of time. Our life doesn't naturally fall into a pattern and fit into our units. Units are, after all, just arbitrary and if you get enough people to agree that "poop" is a new unit that measures the... er... quantity of bad writing in the world--wham! You have a brand new unit. You would have news reporters saying things like, "In this quarter (there's another annoying unit again!) we've seen at least 45 Poops being generated in one blog alone. That works out to a nearly 65% increase in Poop levels since the last quarter."

So really, what's all this hullabaloo over the-unit-that-shall-not-be-named? Is it really an occasion to be all be all happy and new? Our lives have changed in completely nonsensical ways in these 12... sub-units... (Damn, I'm really beginning to regret having made that dramatic statement in the beginning of this post--the one about not mentioning that thing I said I wouldn't mention!) with no respect for our attempts to order our existence. So you see, I refuse to allude to that silly little non-event.

I will, however, party.

Happy Human Fabrication!

P.S.: Whoever points out that I seem to have spent a considerable amount of time and space not-alluding to "it" will be studiously ignored.

Some more streams of conscious nonsense

2009-11-18T18:02:00.003+05:30

Is it truly courage if you do something difficult when you're forced to? If you have no choice in the matter, how is it courageous? I mean, what's the other alternative that you could choose that would be not courageous? I'm not being (very) judgemental of anyone here. In fact, I've been congratulated myself for my "courage" in such situations and I've always found it odd. The situation is thrust upon you and it's either do what you have to or... well, die, I guess. And that's not really an option, is it?

On the subject of courage, why is it that some people always, always prefer to run away from problems rather than face them while some others just can't leave problems alone?

What's really fascinating (and scary) about meeting new people is that you realize how much you don't know. A huge number of facts, to start with, and let's not even get started on life experiences--the other person might just take these for granted but you've probably never even dreamt of them. It's at times like these that you're left wondering how you could ever have believed there's one single, shiny white Truth that you can possibly reach out and grasp.

I seriously can't decide if subjectivity is a good thing or bad. I'm not denying that it's an inescapable fact of life. Even the most seemingly objective things ultimately do have a subjective basis. And subjectivity is wonderful when it comes to any kind of art or sometimes, even the sciences. But when it comes to personal choices, it's a whole different question. Most of our heads have been filled with certain ideals, I think, which depend on being "objective". And when you're forced to make difficult personal choices, do you let go of these and say "Screw objectivity: My life, my views!"? Or do you stick to "objectivity" and feel miserable? Often, it's an uneasy compromise.

The worst part about growing up is that it makes you realize how foolish innocence was... And the worst thing about the past is that you just can't change it, no matter how hard you wish.

After a short break...

2009-11-13T16:03:00.003+05:30

Ok, I haven't updated in nearly nine months but I just came across this blogpost I had written and not published a long, looong time ago... No idea why. So while I continue to neglect paw prints for a while longer, here it is:

I have not updated in more than a month. This does not bother me however, because certain changes in my living arrangements have driven me to distraction. I now live:

1. in a hostel that has a strangely yet appropriately misspelled "Dinning Hall".
2. in a hostel where not only spellings, but punctuations also suffer and I wince every time I enter the "Girl's wing" where no "male's are allowed". Some noble soul has noticed the misplaced apostrophe in the word 'males' and made attempts to remove it but I still itch to have at the "girl's" bit of it. Argh.
3. with two roommates, only one of whom is human. I have not observed this wonderful human being washing a single item of clothing in all the time I have occupied Room No. 229. And I can't say I'm particularly surprised by this as I had to do a LOT of cleaning of my side of the room when I moved in, including scraping away for what felt like two years at a piece of chewing gum that was stuck to the floor. And then found two more such spots. Thankfully, these were on the other side of what I think of as "LOC"--her side of the room, HA!
4. with my other roommate, too, Karma Chameleon, aka Cameo aka Unwaba aka Sojakutty, who is, you guessed it, a chameleon. "Sojakutty" was, of course, the suggestion of a mallu friend, after reading a certain mail about the ancient secrets of Mallu Christian naming practices. The names of the two human occupants of the room were shortened and mixed in order to come up with "Soja". "Sojamon" and "Sojamol" were rejected due to our inability to determine the gender of said chameleon (although s/he DOES seem to enjoy climbing onto my bed. Hmm. Which really doesn't prove anything.) Anyway, this name also has the added advantage of capturing the somnolent atmosphere of the room ("So ja, munna, so jaaa...") But I'm still open to suggestions from the gentle reader.
5. in the farthest point from the academic building, with the closest dhaba also a good distance away. This means I have to a LOT of huffing and puffing all over campus to get anywhere. And with most of my friends living in much more pleasantly placed areas, I end up walking at LEAST four kilometers a day. I console myself by thinking about the fact that my jeans are becoming looser and looser ;)

I would like to conclude, at the end of all this, with absolutely NO sarcasm,

I LOVE HOSTEL LIFE! :D

----

Interesting to read this old post... I've since moved into a new room with really the perfect roommate :) I do miss Cameo, though! Ah, such is life...

Come on, work with me here!

2009-02-01T15:24:00.002+05:30

Ahem. So we all need a little bit of change. Life can get so monotonous. Doing the same things over and over everyday... Looking at the same faces, the same books, the same... Ok, ok, I'll get to the point.

See, here's the thing. I like trying new things (not like THAT, you dirty minds!). I mean, new things especially if it is related to technology, the internet, that way. And in my defense, this blog has been going for nearly 3 and a half years now! (Ok, ok, I killed it once in that duration and haven't been too regular either. But...) Everyone needs a change, don't they! (ok, I'm beginning to whine, I know. Time to cut to the chase.)

http://pawpaint.wordpress.com

So there, I said it. The new address. Admittedly, it's still experimental. So you can either adjust your blogroll (if you have me blogrolled) or just keep that in mind. Pretty please?

I wuv wordpress! (aw, I love you too, Blogger. But you know, people change, move on. These things happen... *excuses continue, fade out*)

'appy nooo earrr!

2008-12-31T19:17:00.002+05:30

No, I'm not drunk. But have a nice one anyway.

2008, compared to the average year, may be described as humongously crappy. From Jan to December, June to... well, December. A few nice things happened of course. I became a graduate. I got into... well... a pretty cool institute for my M.A. (big grin). I've met some VERY nice people who I hope will remain in my life till--oh, ok, I won't be greedy, just till I'm 120 or so. But despite all this, I'm saying goodbye to the year with great relief and hoping I don't have to live through one like it for--again, being very restrained, 100-odd years.

I'm really tempted to write something philosophical about how life goes in unexpected ways but enough already!

Have a ball!

(Or a bat... Or even a hockey puck for that matter.)

At the end of the day

2008-12-21T23:00:00.002+05:30

Everything goes. It's not depressing, nor cynical, nor greatly philosophical. It's like the wind, the ocean, the million stars.

It just is.

Homecoming...

2008-12-09T15:01:00.003+05:30

Home coming is sweet, with bittersweet tinges to add to the interesting experience that it is. When home is a whole city, your joys multiply till you are overwhelmed. You can breathe in and wallow in all that is familiar, those things that were so easy to take for granted but are now so precious. The curl of your mother's hair, your sister's silent creeping-out-of-bed early in the morning so as not to wake you. The silence of the night, comfortable and unchanged since when you were thirteen. The feel of the floor, hard and reassuring, beneath your back. The sofas that echo with the assurance of a hundred memories. The tiny bathroom that remembers the yowls that you called singing, your conversations with the taps, your tears that the shower couldn't drown, your secret phone calls.

Of course, the little bittersweet tinges are there to make sure the sweetness doesn't become nauseating. Those people you miss, whom some part of your illogically expects to find, just aren't there. The little changes that you hardly notice in the beginning make you realise that home is not the static place in your head but is changing, has move on beyond the day you left. That roll-top desk has moved into your room. Your childhood dolls smile down at you from the shelf where they're newly on display. That particular road has a few extra ruts and a whole flyover looms in that familiar horizon. And you must relearn home, rediscover it so that it's exactly what it was to you: completely familiar.

And then you must leave again.

a slice of time

2008-11-25T20:24:00.003+05:30

Riding on the bus on a cold winter evening... The sun has set and it is dark outside. You surprisingly have a seat all to yourself. A jacket keeps you warm and toasty while soft, guitary music plays on your headphones. You slide to the closed window and look out... The world is rushing by in a series of silhouettes lit up in flashes by lights from warm homes and warm windows. You feel a moment of peace and satisfaction as you sit there in the dimly lit bus. With your fellow passengers all around you, the sense of simultaneous comfort and aloneness is heightened, like you're in your own cozy bubble among a million bubbles.

The song ends as your ride ends and you walk smiling towards something like home.

Emptying My Brain

2008-11-21T23:42:00.006+05:30

The next time someone tells me that Tamil is a difficult language to learn, I'll thank them and feel flattered. After all, I must be pretty smart seeing that I learned most of this "difficult" language by the time I was four!

How do some people talk literally for hours on the phone?! My roommate holds a Master's Degree in this and just listening to her yak at all times of the day and night exhausts me. Imagine holding a phone to your ear ALL the time. Or talking for hours to someone whose facial expressions you cannot see. Creepy.

It's strange to think that no matter what opinion I express, someone somewhere at some time disagrees with/disapproves of/violently opposes every word. So why this obsession with political correctness and being agreeable?

I feel all weird and eerie if I think about the world getting wiped out suddenly tomorrow. No one would know. There wouldn't even be a question of caring. Even the most self-centred people would not (be able to) give a damn. And even if we whip up a frenzy about the world ending today, when it does, well, all in vain, eh?

I'm sometimes freakishly possessive. I feel like people, books, movies, even SMELLS belong enclusively to me. Hmm. Weird. And creepy again.

We, as a species, are all morbidly (if unconsciously) obsessed with death and yet seem experts at ignoring this fact. Born astride the grave indeed. Existentialists rock!

Vina nooru kanaavum nooru, vidai solladi...

What is aliens are all around us but we have no clue cos we don't have the right kind of senses to... sense them? It might explain a lot of unexplained phenomena. An alien could be reading this right now and pointing at me and laughing. And now reading <--- that and frowning. And reading <--- that and... ok, this can go on forever. I'll stop.

Brain transplants would be, like, todally coo-uhl!

Would I be a wimp if I wanted to wear gloves already? Freaking frozen fingers!

A dimly lit room seems pitch dark as soon as your enter it and in just half a minute you wonder how you ever thought it was dark. I'm sure there's a deep and significant metaphor in there but too lazy to look for it now.

Why is it so hard to stop looking for approval, either peer or societal or parental or familial or whatever-al, even when you know in your head it's stupid and you must be who you are?

Darn mosquitos!

There's something strangely fair in the fact that life isn't fair, you know?

Life is absurd. The sheer absurdity of the fact that I'm sitting here and pressing down on these weird protrusions that in turn produce some weirdly shaped marks on a weird-looking flat surface which stand for some chemical impulses in my head is absurd enough. Add to that the fact that you are looking at these weird-shaped marks and they stand for something in your head which may or may not be what it stood for in my head. Uh.

It's past midnight. No wonder I'm treading the thin line between randomness and sheer nonsense. G'night then.

P.S.: Brain nice and empty now! :)

Waning Lyrical...

2008-11-15T21:35:00.004+05:30

(... As opposed to waxing, get it? Sigh. I must stop explaining my jokes.) You may ignore this if you a like. Just a little parody for my amusement...

I've just eaten my fill and
I'm ravanous
I've just woken and
I'm already sleepy

every hour I'm away seems
like a second.
the minute I return
stretches for hours

your eyes are like endless pools of warm honey
but really, closer to molten lava in hell
your voice is dark and smooth like chocolate
or rather like a blackboard when nails rake it.

serious symptoms of an illness, you'd think
but my love, these are symptoms
of the long-awaited cure:
I'm falling out of love!

appa

2008-11-11T01:07:00.002+05:30

Why would I miss you? You are in my every word, every action. Your blood flows through my veins. I quite literally carry half of you in me. One of the only two privileged people in the world to do so, in fact. Everything I am today somehow leads back to you. Those words of wisdom that you gave me always guide me--perhaps because you so rarely gave them and when you did, they were always so honest and something I could see you live by everyday. Moments of laughter, anger and so much else are saved in my mind, forever frozen, like a photograph, only much more real. The way you would shake your leg while reading the morning paper. The way you would just look out the window, lost in thoughts. The way you would muss the hair at the back of your head. The way you would give me your little finger back when I was small enough to reach up for it. The way you would demand I vacate your bed when you returned home from the office on sleepy Saturday afternoons.

So much of you lives on in me: your love for photography, your kadi jokes, your forgiving ways, your generosity! How can I ever have these without always having you with me? Is it any wonder that I often think you're just a phone call away? It's not so strange, then, that I still picture you as being "there", when I think of family and home. Yet, I still feel you here, with me. I believe you're here with me. Always. So why would I miss you?

Why do I miss you?

Things That Were Created Exclusively to Drive Me, yes, ME Absolutely NUTS!

2008-11-06T23:20:00.001+05:30

--Cooling off in the middle of a darn good temper tantrum!

Come on, we all love a good temper tantrum once in a way. Ok, why the blank look and raised eyebrow? You don't?! Well, I do! And let me tell you, there is nothing worse that working yourself up to a good sulk or outright tantrum and then realizing you've stopped being angry with whatever or whoever it is that gifted you with just that mood. You just feel so... betrayed and let down by yourself, but not enough to inspire another sulk. It's like being offered a whole bar of chocolate all to yourself and then, when you're halfway through it, being told that's all you can have. Oh, the cruelty of it!

Sulk Rating: 8 FF*

-- Morning People!

Ye gods! These creatures actually believe in such concepts as "Early to bed and early to rise", "Humans are not nocturnal creatures", "Breakfast at 7 am" and even "11 o'clock is nearly afternoon", for crying out loud! I mean, come on! I go to bed early and rise early too--in the morning and evening respectively! Breakfast at 7? Brunch all the way. And 11 a.m. is the time you crack one eye open and decide to set an alarm to wake you in an hour! And humans, NOT nocturnal? Then how exactly would you explain the reason for the stars and the moon to exist other than to light up our nights?! Hello? Go read up your science. Sheesh.

Ok, having to put up with these creatures' quaint ideas is bad enough. But to endure their cheerfulness when you're forced to rise before noon and rummaging about the room (if you share one with them) when you can sleep in, it's just tooooo much I say!

Sulk Rating: 8.5 FF

--The bus starting just before you get off!

This happens more and more to me these days. I, of course, am always the LAST person to get down at any given stop and the drivers take perverse pleasure in starting the bus when I'm one foot on and one foot off. As a result of which, I step down and have to do an ungainly little dance to the amusement of everyone (including the people in the bus, people on the streets, the snoozing street dog and the lamp-posts.) Foooh! (The sound of steam coming out of my ears)

Sulk Rating: 6.5 FF

(And while on the topic...)

--Having to travel half an hour to get to a place that's ten minutes away.

Yes, you read that right. Bizarre, right? Well, apparently the Delhi Transport Corporation and its sister private concerns have managed to bend the laws of time and space. Remember the straight-line-shortest-distance-between-two-points rule? Apparently, there is another law of the universe that overrules this--There can be no direct bus from the abode of this blogger to her university. Therefore, to get to the university, I am obliged to hop two buses--which are timed in just such way that if one arrives on time, I'm sure to have to wait at least 15 minutes for the other and if the first arrives late, I JUST miss the other. Sigh. The relatively low Sulk Rating for this is owing to the fact that I actually enjoy bus travel. Go figure.

Sulk Rating: 4.67 FF

--Finding that thing you were looking for for so long! [For for? :D ]

Ok, you might be puzzled by that. But what your forgetting is that, according to the Holy Murphy's Laws (which sometimes seem more verifiable and relevant than Newton's), this can only mean that you'd given up looking for that thing only a few days/minutes ago and bought (or married!) something else... Ah, the look on one's face then in priceless.

Rating: 8 FF

--ZITS!

Zits are not as innocent as they seem. They have a secret cult for they are all from the invisible 9th planet, Elp-mip. (Pluto, apparently, is not a planet but actually just a huge, infected acne.) This cult has its sinister rules and rituals. Rule No. 1 is... (No, it's not "Never talk about the Zit Cult") Always appear when least expected, i.e., when the Host is heaving a sigh of relief at their clear skin and laughing at "those pimply, awkward adoloscent days". Rule No. 2: Appear in an area most likely to be accidentally scratched or most tempting to scratch. Rule No. 3: Itch. Itch more. Itch like crazy. Then refuse to leave.

Rating: 8.9 FF

--Poor punctuation

Enough said. (And no, learning all about descriptive-not-prescriptive grammar has not changed this is me!)

Rating: 9.98 FF

____________________

*All values in the standard Frowney Face (Metric) Scale of Ten. For conversion, (these calculations must be done on paper only!) to Grumpy Face scale, add 5968, multiply by 4.943608, divide the result by 94, strike the whole thing out and write the original FF value, this time replacing 'FF' with 'GF'. (Calculations suggested by the Gunther & Ames' Moody Society of Cranks)

The "Moment"

2008-10-29T00:07:00.003+05:30

Falling in love...

I think the experience has been so publicized and romanticized by everything from poems to movies to novels to endless discussions that we often forget or never realise that falling in love is something so... full of freedom.

I don't mean falling in love sets you free. I mean falling in love itself defies any fetters and is open to everything. Why is falling in love immediately associated with a member of the opposite (or same) sex? Admitted, it's also often the case that we say "I fell in love with that song/painting/poem!" But I believe falling in love can go even beyond that--you can fall in love with a moment or a person in a particular moment, after which you may not be in love with them. You can fall in love with a certain emotion or a particular piece of stone or... anything! You can fall in love with a person who may or may not even exist, as in the case of this poem (which I've fallen in love with.)

And that moment is as beautiful and memorable as falling in love with a person is. Every time you recall the moment, you feel the warmth and the sheer thrill all over again. Would it be too weird if I said that there is a certain almost... sexual satisfaction in it? The moment doesn't happen a lot but it does take your breath away when it does, cliche as that sounds!

Why so serious?

2008-10-26T00:44:00.002+05:30

It's now that time of the year when I spread some cheer... In the following blog entry, I will radiate optimism and goodwill, enough to put Murphy to shame. So here we go... stuff people won't tell you but I, your best friend, cheerfully reveal... Enjoy!

The fact is:

That thing you’re waiting for so desperately? It’s never going to happen. And even if it does, it’ll never be as great as you imagined it would be.

At the end of the day, everyone is a loser. You might feel good, clever… on top of the world sometime or the other. But you truly are a loser when it’s all said and done. But don’t worry, you have lots of company. As I said, EVERYONE is a loser.

Love doesn’t last. You have to keep renewing it and sometimes you don’t feel like it so it slips away then and may never come back. That’s why humans look for it… because we seem addicted to the futility of it.

You will stub your toe. Again and again and again. Each time it will be the same I-can’t-even-swear kind of agony.

Things keep changing… The bad may change to the good, yes, but don’t fool yourself. The bad’s going to come back and bite you in your behind.

Bad things definitely happen to good people. So unless you can’t help being “good”, why try?

Every time you finally forget that tune that’s stuck in your head, someone is going to hum it. Killing that person, unfortunately, will not change the fact that it’s stuck in your head once again.

You WILL do that one thing you swore you’d never do. What’s more, you’ll enjoy it and then hate yourself for it.

Fairy tales have magic, and happy endings, for a reason—to distinguish them from reality. Take the hint.

There. I'm done... Take a moment and remember to...

SMILE!

You Really KNOW You're Missing Home When...

2008-10-01T13:15:00.002+05:30

You keep wrinkling your nose and sniffing beacuse clean air seems... wrong... somehow!

You think fondly of fights involving aruvals and kattais

You salivate at the thought of mom's pavakka which you thought you'd never touch with a stick... (Hmm, on second thought... pavakka? Ok even I'm not that desperate... yet.)

The name of a shop written in Tamil gets you as ecited as the know-it-all kid in class when he wants to answer a tough one.

You suddenly realise that the shower, not the wheel, was the greatest human invention--and the bucket, probably the most cursed!

The beach--which you visited maybe once a year back home--is suddenly the one thing that could set right every problem in your life.

You miss those chatty, know-it-all auto karans who routinely and shamelessly try to rip you off.

You watch the crappiest Tamil movies and songs in the history of mankind just so you can hear the language.

You actually honest-to-goodness DREAM of the Coovum!

You mouth the most galeejana Tamil words in your head cos you're afraid you'll forget them!

A Little Amusement...

2008-09-29T17:53:00.007+05:30

Blog comments...

...and laptops

And finally, just cuteness...

Courtesy xkcd.com (check it out, it has some brilliant stuff)

A Glitch in the Brain

2008-09-18T11:10:00.003+05:30

I always get a strange, surreal feeling when I think that the whole of my past is just memory. Every moment of pain, wonder, joy, confusion, every crush, every unforgettable feeling of knee-knocking fear, every betterfly in my stomach, every stubbed toe is now not even real or verifiable. Those moments are just grooves in a soft, easily squishable brain, folds in my cerebrum. That friend who betrayed me and who I haven't spoken to in more than a year may as well be a ghost. She exists as I saw her only in my memory. My uncle, grandmother, aunt, grandfather... even my father... are all just memories now. From a child's impressions of popcorn and poppins to a young woman's helplessness at pain suffered, these people, once easily hugged and spoken to, are just memories now.

My life so far could've been a wasteland--I'd never know if all that I've felt is real or the drug-induced hallucinations of a crazed mind. And tomorrow, my life so far could just be wiped out by a careless blow to the head and then where would I be? Where would you be?

Does this sound like pseudo-Matrix-existentialist crap? Well, once I hit the "Publish" button, how can I even be sure I wrote it?

Random Experiences...

2008-08-16T00:16:00.007+05:30

Moving to a new city, starting a whole new kind of life, etc., often causes the profoundest, most moving thoughts and experiences. You look back your old life, amazed at the new experiences open to you... you look with wonder at the suddenly wide horizon even as your heart swells with...

Haha, excuse me a minute. I'm laughing too hard to keep that up. Lemme tell you some of the things I've learned, said, thought and wondered about since moving into JNU:

--On the first day, after class, I went to the warden's house where I'd left my luggage, to move into the hostel. Oh, hi doggie. Er... didn't notice you there... Aw, you're a cutie pie, aren't you? Coochie coochie... Hmm your tail isn't wagging. Oh...kay... I'll just ring this bell here and wait for the warden to open the doo--oops! Ok, ok, calm down, no need to stand right next to me and bark at me. Er... nice doggie? Ok... not so nice doggie... Ok, STOP! HAAALP!

At the end of this internal monologue, the warden's son comes and opens the door. He's gaping at me and goes "You just came in? And the dog didn't DO anything to you?" I'm shaken, and feeling all alone, scared in the I-want-my-mommy way and all I can do is chuckle nervously and say, "Er, no... As you can see by the lack of missing chunks of flesh on my legs, he didn't, in fact, take a bite out of me, as he wanted to. And you seem shocked and even... disappointed?... that he didn't."

Ok, I'll admit I stopped at "Er, no," but I swear I wanted to say the rest. And he keeps asking the same question every few minutes. And no, in case your interested, he wasn't cute enough to make such a question more palatable. But he'd just had some kinda minor operation so I couldn't pound on him either. sigh. Moving on...

--Hmm ok... Can't I just give in my own, decent looking passport-sized photo for a buss-pass? All right, fine then. I'll just sit here on this dirty chair and smile at the weird looking web cam... Ah, it's done... Ok, I can wait, it's just a buss pass. La la la la... Hmm hmm hmm... Tralala--AAAARGH! No! That monster in the photo can't be me... Nooooooooooooooooo....

But, as in most of the difficult and life-changing experiences we go through, I had to accept that it was, indeed, me, and now I'm stuck with this wonderful little thing that's going to take me all over Delhi. And NO, I'M NOT SCANNING IT AND PUTTING IT UP HERE SO YOU CAN POINT AND LAUGH!

--Ah, lunch! I could dig into some roti-and-subzi, some dhaal-and-chaval now! Ah, bring it on... Now, what is that thing? Hmmm... Looks familiar! Why, it looks like a--COCKROACH!!

Suddenly, I wasn't so hungry any more...

--Ah, after a long and difficult day of walking about, it's good to kick back and relax alone in my lovely, dark, quiet room. Zzzzz... huh? wha--? Where's that barking coming from? Ooooh-kaaaay...

Sigh. Yes. I had, indeed, been alotted the room just above the warden's house and ole fluffy, my fuzzy, furry, furious feline friend was going to be my constant companion if not in full physical form, at least in voice. (Yes, yes, I know dogs are canine, not feline. But I had a nice "f" alliteration going there [You could even say I was "effing" hehe]. Plus, you know dogs hate cats and this was my sneaky, insulting, degrading revenge on ole Fluffy. Yes, I'm really that pathetic.) Perhaps I could hang outside the balcony on moonlit nights and go "Fluffy, fluffy, wherefore art thou so un-Fluffy?" (For the record, his name's really not Fluffy. That's just my pet-name for him, after his cheerful disposition [Haha, "pet"name, get it? He's a pet so... Ok, you get it.])

Ah, more adventures later. A whole lot to say about clothes turning moldy while waiting for me to wash them, walking about in a campus bigger than a small British colony and getting utterly lost, etc. What fun.

Poyittu Varen...

2008-08-02T20:06:00.002+05:30

Leaving chennai. Will be back only in December.

Time only for a quick goodbye.

Bye then.

Fun Things (and Not-so-fun things) I've Learned In Recent Times

2008-06-03T16:13:00.004+05:30

So yes, the summer has been upon us for a couple of months and, unfortunately, as summers tend to be, I have started LEARNING things. Sigh. An unfortunate side-effect of being utterly vetti I guess. It's most disappointing. I never went about arbitrarily LEARNING things when I was in college! Why should I now, when the days should be spent in decadent wastefulness? Sigh again. Anyway, here are these great lessons:

- Celebrity Crushes Are Fun!
Beside the garden variety everyday crush, which is often painful and almost always embarrassing, there is the Special Realm of the Celebrity Crush (hmm, what's with the capitals, you ask? No idea!) Now, the thing about the CC is the ridiculous ease of accessibility to the object of your interest/affection/desire/lust (ha!). One google search for certain strangely attractive cricketers and there are about a million pictures to go ga-ga over. One foray of television channels and there's Hrithik Roshan, bulging muscles, yummy eyes, cute extra digit et al! Now, a few heart aches could be caused by little factors such as... "Oh no, (dramatic hand-to-forehead) Christian Bale is married!" or "Damn that Deepika Padkone, trying to steal my guy!" or "Ah, if only my lowe wasn't straight..." But overall, your friends tease you and you grin along, safe in the knowledge that you'll never get caught in THAT trap, at least!

- It's Possible to Do a Lot of Nothing
Now this might sound like something Garfield would make up, but it's true! You can pretend to read... while doing nothing. You can pretend to watch television... while doing nothing. You can pretend to be online, doing important things... while doing nothing. Well, you get the drift! It's a glorious feeling when you look back at a long day of doing nothing. In fact, I plan to write a book about it, Doing and Nothingness. I'm sure it'll be more popular and... "experienceable" than Sartre's similar ramblings.

- The Sad Truth about People
It's a sad truth that people have an endless capacity to deceive themselves. Some (no links here, sorry :P) would even sink into melodrama and self-pity rather than admit that they might have done something wrong or work at a compromise. Ah, well, it takes all sorts of nuts to make a fruitcake.

- The Happy Truth About People
You know there's always another side to the grass but both the less green and the greener sides can be on your own lawn! Ok, ok, I'll stop talking in metaphors before you throw something at me. It's just that the happy truth about people is that PEOPLE CAN BE WONDERFUL! Sure, we're all full of faults and no way is anybody perfect but still, there are people who will understand you and respect you for what you are and bother to stick with you even when you're being a total loser or completely lame :D That's what makes the fruitcake sweet, after all! (Ok, I promise, no more cliched metaphors!)

- Being a Girl is Fun
Yes, yes, we all know it's a hard world to be a woman in. Men constantly come up with trivial complaints about how difficult life is for men but it's obviously just men being men. It's often the case that women wish they were men but at the end of the day, I realise it's fun to be a girl! I mean, womes are so comfy in fun sleepovers where previously mentioned objects of interest/affection/desire/lust are drooled over, fashion, world affairs and everything else are discussed, clothes and weird hairstyles are tried out, crazy pictures are taken and hysterical laughter goes on for several minutes over nothing. Now, not being a man, I can't imagine what male sleepovers (sorry, is that an oxymoron? Let's call it something more MANLY... Hmm, ok BOOZE PARTY!) are like but I doubt there's any of the emotional sharing that women do. Wow, I'm being so sexist. It rocks! :D So yeah, go, girlpower!

- Coo-coo-cooking!
Ah yes, I have leanred rudimentary skills at the kitchen. Never thought the day would come when the old family joke about me having to marry a chef could be shelved. Well, I still wouldn't go THAT far but I've learned some basics. Such as how to make scrambled eggs (ahem, the broken eggs and the weird smell in the kitchen will NOT be mentioned, atomic!) and chapati and dosa and rava idli! So yes, I might survive on my own, provided there are convenient Spencer's Dailies in every corner to buy bread, idli/dosa mav and eggs from. Hehe.

Oh, there's more but all this writing really is getting in the way of my "doing nothing" campaign. So it's bye-bye for now :)

Hairy story

2008-04-24T17:03:00.001+05:30

I don't usually upload videos but I thought this was worth making an exception :)

AtTAGed!

2008-04-18T14:49:00.005+05:30

I have been tagged. Sob. Grumble. No, no, no!

Hehe, actually, I'm secretly pleased about the fact that I've been tagged... I've always wanted to be but never have :( The above is the kind of reaction that other people seem to have when tagged so I'm just trying to be all blase. But otherwise I'm happy as a clam! (Hmm... are clams really that happy? Do they just not get depressed? Even with the global warming and the water pollution n all? I see another post forming here so I'll close this paranthesis [I've been notorious for them from my very first blog post :P])

Ok... Where was I? Happy as a clam... So, thanks atomic, crazybugga!

First, the rules:
- Post the rules on your blog.
- Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
- Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
- Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

Hmmmm... There's not much people don't already know about me but here goes:

1) I'm an obsessive punctuation freak... It's a serious illness that could be fatal if allowed to develop. Wouldn't be surprised if I have to seek medical attention soon, especially due to rising blood pressure cause by reading badly punctuated blog posts (hint, hint) :D

2) I can eat any kinda food... And I mean ANY kind... I'm not even averse to trying frogs or snails or even... gasp... tomatoes! A serious foodie.

3) I like knowing how things work... Languages, machines, people, whatever.

4) I wear a belt with jeans. The stupid jean-makers seem to be incapable of making pants that fit me. Either too loose or too tight. Waaah.

5) I catch a cold overnight, every night of every week of every month of every year. These colds generally disappear in the morning about 20 minutes after waking up.

6) I love buying books... Not just reading them but BUYING them, holding them, smelling them. They can be in any state... First hand, second hand, crumbling and falling apart, pirated... It's such a rush to buy them, somehow.

Five People You Will Meet in Hell (aka...)

2008-03-09T16:55:00.000+05:30

Driving on Chennai roads is an interesting... experience, to say the very least. Forget the roads (which your back never really forgets) and the pollution (which your lungs never forget) or even the congestion (which your vehicle never forgets). There is a whole different aspect of driving in Singara Chennai (named so by someone with a healthy sense of irony, methinks) that is more fascinating... I am, of course, talking about the fellow travellers... Who else but humans could leave such a mark?!

Driving in Chennai, you will meet certain standard "stock" drivers whom I have neatly classified. Unless otherwise specified, these "types" extend to both genders and across all age-groups. I have used the masculine pronoun for convenience:

1. The Overtaker: We've all heard of the Undertaker, of course. This type of driver, the Overtaker, is equally lethal. And would probably fit right into the profession of the undertaker, so eager does he seem to send people on their way to the hereafter. The Overtaker's M.O. involves sneaking up on people unawares, (he has perfected this art to such... perfection that he doesn't even appear in the rear-view mirror of the Overtakee) then out of nowhere, zip past the overtakee as close as possible, preferably with a (very loud) horn honking in the ear of the poor unsuspecting victim who will promptly jump, swerve, swear or lose balance--or do all of these simultaneously. The Overtaker takes pleasure in these very actions and his helmet probably muffles a chilling, Psycho-like laugh as he zooms away.

2. The Tortoise: The name Tortoise, I believe, sufficiently describes the nature of this driver. As may be expected, the Tortoise is the anti-thesis of the Overtaker. The Tortoise typically drives/rides a large and ungainly vehicle, and seems to believe that it is best driven at 10 kmph and in the middle of the road. While the Undertaker hones his skill into an art, the Tortoise decides to make his skill a science. Thus, through Tortoisology, this type of driver drives in a careful, precise way that ensures that the road is blocked in just such a way that no other driver can overtake him, reducing the traffic to a speed that is similar to the Tortoise's. The Tortoise is truly brilliant for he frustrates not just fellow drivers, but pedestrian'\s too, who cannot cross the road because the Tortoise has reached that level of acceleration that is completely un-judgeable. And without a means to predict when the Tortoise will pass, the pedestrian is left stranded on one side of the road--forever!

3. The Hunk:
3. The Hunk: This, I'm afraid, in a gender-specific and age-specific type of driver. The Hunk is most often young, male and rather desperate when it comes to members of the opposite sex. The Hunk thinks himself to be more than averagely endowed in the looks and attraction department. (It is also to be noted that the Hunk is typically delusional) The motives of the Hunk are simple: Impress the Babe (more on that later) or any other female driver and show off superior driving skills of self. Due to the extremely eclectic driving style of the Hunk, it is difficult to pin down one Modus Operandi. There are, however, various styles or moves. There is, first of all, the standard Swerve-and-Swoop. To execute this, the Hunk generally speeds up, takes several complicated looking (also lame-looking, but he doesn't know it) swerves and zigzags around other vehicles, swoops down on the object of his hunkiness and calls out some witty (read: equally lame) remark and zooms off. The Hunk believes that the effect of this maneuver is dual: scare the chick, impress the chick. Unfortunately for the Hunk, this just pisses off the "chick". Another move I will discuss is the classic Fast 'n' Slow. When the Hunk spots an eligible female driver (who is driving confidently and faster than him), he speeds up and zoom pasts her. Then he slows down till she catches up and overtakes him and then zooms past again. This can go on for quite a while. Poor dumb Hunk. I myself have been at the receiving end of the ole Fast 'n' Slow and had the indescribable pleasure of seeing the Hunk being stopped in the middle of a Fast Cycle by a cop and screwed over.

4. The Babe: Another gender- and age- specific one. The Babe is the female counter-part to the Hunk. Her driving sense and skills just about equal to that of the Hunk. She has her own theories about what the various parts of the vehicle are and what the road rules mean. The rear view mirror becomes, simply, a mirror in the hands of the Babe. The stop signal is a time to touch up the make up, readjust the clothes and paint the nails (if the signal is, say, Nandanam, she'll have enough time for said nails to dry and begin chipping). The Babe, however, is mostly harmless in comparison to the Hunk. Her most lethal weapon is the long-winded preparation to driving which goes something like: Open boot of the scooter, take out bottle of sunblock. Spread generous dollops on every inch of exposed skin, take out gloves, jacket, dupatta and begin to cover the self as if a blizzard's been predicted ("Oh, I don't want to get all tan!"). The Dupatta ritual is one of the most mystical aspects of the Babe's routine--a twist, a turn, a flip, a tuck and suddenly only the eyes stare out of the face hidden by the dupatta. Then comes the last, much lamented step: Wear helmet ("Dammit, do I have to?! It ruins my freshly washed, coloured, straightened hair!") and drive away.

5. The Stickler: The Stickler, aka the Nitpicker, is a truly wondrous and indecipherable species of drivers. The Stickler actually believes in and follows the road rules. The Stickler can read various road signs. The Stickler actually passed the driving test fair and square without bribing various officials. The Stickler carries all his papers with him all the time. The Stickler makes sure his vandi is spic-and-span though it might be 20 years old. The Stickler puts up his hand when he's at the head of the signal to show that he's stopped. The Stickler stops at the stop line. The Stickler wore a helmet before it was made compulsory. The Stickler never allows his petrol indicator to touch the red line. The Stickler is often middle-aged. The Stickler is an endangered species. Save the Stickler!

Well, there you go. These are some of the chief races of drivers. There are other categories like The Spitter, Dopey, The Nervous Fumbler, The Honker, Foul Mouth etc. Certain groups like The Autodriver can have whole posts, if not books, written on them. But you would be considered a seasoned Chennai-ite and driver if you have encountered and survived these five basic groups.

Happy Bumping Along!

Two Thousand WHAT?!

2008-01-03T20:07:00.000+05:30

Now, wait just a minute... How the heck did this happen?! One minute it's New Year's Day 2007 and suddenly it's 2008. Sheesh.

So anyway...

Here I go with my usual profound remarks about the new year that will gloriously mark this special moment in time... The "days of our lives", if you will ;) Well, this time it's rather short, pithy and while I don't know if it may be considered an actual REMARK, it holds profound philosophy... So listen carefully:

PPPPFFFFFRRRRRRT!

Ah. I see from the rather puzzled look on your face that you're cautiously wondering "WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!" Ahem. You know. Look deeper. Such great thoughts cannot be explained but only expressed and experienced. Ok, ok, FINE. The old "figure-it-out-yourself" cop out isn't gonna work on you. That was an expression of the rip that is created in the fabric of time as we move from one great epoch to anoth-- Ok, ok, fine, you can stop looking sceptical. That was just me sticking out my tongue at the world, blowing a raspberry at it.

So yeah, that's my profound remark for the beginning of this year:

PPPPFFFFFRRRRRRT!

Hey but if you think about it, it actually DOES sound like the sound of God's snore--cos he's bored with us humans and has fallen asleep--

Hey, hey hey! THAT'S NOT NICE! At least throw tomatoes that are not rotten so that I can... you know... make a meal of it. And, er, could you substitute the smelly eggs with some fried fish? Really, I'm not being very particular. It can even be not so fresh. *drools* Thanks a bunch. ;)

'APPPPPPPY NOOOOOO EEEEAAAARRRR!

--------------------------------------

Ahem. Some post-scriptitious (hey I just made up a fake word!) remarks...

I know this was a rather sad attempt at a blog post, but in my defence, my blog and Miss Perfection (you can read about her elsewhere {haha, now you'll have to comb through my blog [and comment]}) were literally SCREAMING at me to update and well... this is the product. So don't blame me. You can continue the rotten tomato throwing at THEM (I'll still have the fish though :D Thanks...)

Oh, and the Zzzzz... label was new cos I realised I don't have any labels beginning with Z... In fact, that's my new year's resolution... To come up with a label for every alphabet (wow, I just made up a fake resolution!)

WHY

2007-10-14T18:29:00.000+05:30

(DISCLAIMER: This is a serious one, so just skip if you're not comfortable with serious things... I'm not going to try to be flippant and humourous. This is important to me.)

Why do most human beings feel this need to impose their will on others? They feel everyone must toe the line of their expectations and opinions. It's such bullshit. What do these people want? Imagine if everyone did conform... Their perfect world of "acceptable" behaviour would be... mind-numbingly boring, with absolutely no variety whatsoever! Imagine if no one thought differently... There would still be oppression based on caste in India and based on race in some other countries... We would still all be forced to conform to a religion, whether we like it or not, or pay for non-conformity. Indians would still be subjugated. There would be no freedom of speech. No freedom of expression. No freedom of thought.

So why are we still trying to get people to do what is acceptable to a certain majority?

I have seen this very often. The minute someone does something different, there's such a huge opposition to it. Ok, off the top of my head... Homosexuality! I can't count the number of people whose reactions to homosexuals range from mild discomfort to wild opposition. I have no bone to pick with the mild discomfort camp. Sure, we've all been trained to think in a certain way from childhood and the idea of homosexuality may make them uncomfortable. Fair enough. Now how about shutting up and keeping your opinion to yourself? What absolutely pisses me off is people who go around saying "It's unnatural!" blah blah blah. Well, it exists doesn't it? That means nature created it so it's NATURAL! And then there are those people saying it shouldn't exist, it's wrong. Oh, wait a minute. I think I missed something... Who died and made you judge of what is right and wrong?

I just don't understand this need to tell everyone how to live. I mean, how does it matter how two consenting adults do their business? Is anyone forcing you to do it? Are they hurting anyone, physically? (I'm not talking about people 'hurting' puritanical sensibilities!) Then, HOW DOES IT MATTER? If you're gonna talk about rape and stuff, tough news, it happens regardless of sexual orientation. So I think it's best to set aside these silly notions that infringe on other people's freedom to be who and what they are... We are all free human beings... But we can't choose our sexuality, it's inborn. And even if we could, why should we choose something just so that society will feel COMFORTABLE?

Oh, I'm not done yet. Another case of stepping outside the norms: Feminism. I have witnessed how people react to feminists, both in real life and otherwise. They are faced with great antagonism in general and in movies they are portrayed as stereotypical male-haters with short hair, either unmarried or divorced. The minute a feminist opens her mouth there's this change in the atmosphere... It gets all charged with self-righteous anger from other people, like she's a freak who's disturbing the peace. Why is it wrong to stand up for rights? I mean, what modern feminism is about is basically individual rights, the freedom to be what you want to be, regardless of your sex. So if I, a woman, want to not have children, am I a freak? Don't I get a say in what I want to do with my own body? If I don't want to cook, clean AND work AND take care of my family... if I would prefer to be the 'conventional' housewife who stays home and doesn't work, can't I be that and still hold on to my individuality? If I am a man who prefers to wear pink and loves flowers, can't I make that personal choice without being judged? Or if I feel I'm not happy with my gender, can't I just change who I am? Or should I slog through life, working to keep society happy (like it can ever be happy!) only to end up being a miserable person?

Why do we all have to toe that invisible line? Why do we have to follow these unwritten rules even when they make no sense?

How many of you are wondering if I'm homosexual or a feminist right now? How many of you are judging me?

...But you know what? I don't care! :)

Should I Be Worried?

2007-09-16T12:14:00.000+05:30

The other in a drama-writing workshop, we were asked to look back and think of a "crisis" or a turning point in our childhood that changed who we are today.

I thought... I scratched the A4 sheet with my pen... I turned those little lines into meaningless doodles. And all I discovered was a penchant for cartoon faces, leaves, lips and black-and-white alternating patterns!

I couldn't think of a SINGLE incident that stands out as changing who I am, making me what I am today. This is something that really disturbed me because everyone seems to have one incident--happy or sad--that changed their life. What does my not having one mean? Am I... shallow? Too complacent? Or worst of all--BORING?!

Not that I wish a childhood trauma upon myself, just so I have something to write about. But c'mon, how am I going to become a famous--and more importantly--RICH writer if I don't have that "something" that'll haunt me all my life, drive me first to writing, then to drinking, smoking, drugs, indiscriminate sex and finally to death! How will I face the literary world? How will I support myself (consults a previously mentioned list)--LEGALLY!

Sob... oh woe!

Ah, forget it. I'll just... traumatise myself now. Better late than never, eh? :D

----------------
Now playing: KT Tunstall - Throw Me A Rope
via FoxyTunes

P | O | W | E | R

2007-09-04T22:01:00.000+05:30

Those really sappy songs say that the world goes around on love--or words to that effect. Now, I have nothing against sappy songs but I really beg to differ. I think it's power that makes the world go 'round. Think about it... every human interaction is based on power. Starting from governments to your average boy-girl relationship, it's all based on power.

Every conflict clearly proves this, because if you dissect every conflict to the basics, it's about power. Think about everyone's favourite 'War Against Terrorism'. Even if it had simply been what it purported to be (which I very much doubt), it's about "You're killing of people everywhere" which leads to "You're killing off people in my country" which leads to "You're killing off people who voted for me and who are my supporters" which is basically talking about "ME ME ME". You're challenging my authority and power. So it's a basic You Vs. Me struggle.

Now, the above illustration maybe very obvious. So, different situation. Two girls get into a fight over a guy that they're both attracted to. They've never spoken to him, it's not love at first sight, but they're still quarreling over this guy cos they both want to ask him out or whatever. Notwithstanding the... silliness... of the situation, perhaps, it's still a power struggle. It's a I-deserve-better-than-you-cos-I-AM-better sort of thing.

And as for LOVE--which you might think is the end of this whole power theory--well, as for love, I think love is the final and ultimate power relationship. I refer again--really, not disparagingly--to sappy songs and poems. Love is not about caring and sharing and marriage and being together forever. Well, maybe on some levels, but it all leads to the same thing. Why do love someone? Usually because they love us. And if someone loves you, you have the power to hurt them. Hmm, do I see eye-rolling and you're-being-cynical looks? But think about it. If what you did to someone wouldn't affect them at all, they would be neutral--and that means they don't LOVE you. Forget hurting. How about making someone happy, even a little bit. Wouldn't you feel that a relationship with a friend/parent/spouse-figure/child/sibling's going nowhere if you could neither hurt them nor make them happy?

Let's also look at the so called "selfless" parent-child relationships. From the point of the view of the parent, it's the "this is my territory" thing again in a different level. From the point of view of the child, it's also the same thing.

What about unrequited love then? Some people go on loving someone even after rejection, heart break and plain despair. Why? I think they're saying, "Ok, reject me if you want but you can't stop me loving you. I have that bit of power in this--I can feel however I want to, you have no say about it." It's could also be a little bit of the martyred feeling that gives them a sort of high.

Are you horrified that a human being could be so cold about it? I'm sure there are millions of arguments against this stand of mine but I think there's a grain of truth in it. That's why human relationships seem meaningless at some point or the other. We all allow a little bit of the truth to shimmer through--that we're all, ALL selfish deep down.

----------------
Now playing: Farhat Bouallagui - Desert Rose
via FoxyTunes

Chennai Day Special - Total Rant: Tree killers!

2007-08-23T19:11:00.000+05:30

What is the ugliest, most obscene sight I have seen in recent times? You perverts out there may put away your mental images. I just meant the sight of beautiful, strong trees in their prime having their roots exposed to the sun.

This is in protest of the government-sanctioned tree killings that have been going on recently on G N Chetty Road. This used to be a beautiful tree-lined avenue and just entering it on a hot day, you could feel the temperatures drop at least a degree. But recently in the name of PROGRESS (don't make me laugh!) at least 10 trees have been slashed down. For what? To build a frickin' FLYOVER. What it all boils down to is this:

The bloody traffic police don't care about controlling traffic, making sure rules are followed. Oh but wait, they do! But only when their finances are low and they need so ready cash. Then they'll stop people for all reasons, take their money and send them on their way. If you're wondering where this is leading, let me attempt an explanation. So, basically, these idiots can't maintain discipline and so traffic jams up like crazy. And what do they do? No, they don't make sure people don't do idiotic things like jumping signals, respectiong "stop" lines. No, they decide to build a flyover which will only encourage more rule breaking and traffic and create horrible bottlenecks and snares in traffic (Gemini flyover being a prime example). Oh, but that's ok... All that's going to be wasted is the tax money of fool citizens who cough up. And oh, as a sidenote, a bunch of green-and-brown props on the side of the road. Trees.

Murder. That's what this is. Am I being melodramatic? Good! I don't give a damn. People just need to get melodramatic about things like this. Forget the fact that these trees, tall, lush and majestic have taken DECADES to grow (eyewitness accounts, thanks to my family that's lived in T Nagar since forever), fighting against impossible Chennai summers, putting up with graffiti and disfigurement, etc. Forget the fact that trees actually have life and as much rights to live as a human beings. Forget the fact that trees are fricking scarce in chennai! Let's forget all that and be the usual materialistic, self-centred human beings and come down to practicalities. These trees give SHADE. Now that's essential in blisterin' ole Chennai. And hello?! Are we forgetting things like oxygen cycles, ecology and global warming? What happened to all the environmental awareness? This is EXACTLY why the human race is doomed and is also sending the rest of the planet to its doom.

In college, the dear central government has added to our already heavy workload with a core paper called Environmental Studies. As I said before, don't make me laugh. Cos I might just get hysterical (as if i'm not now!). Talk about irony!

Smug.

2007-08-10T18:58:00.000+05:30

Studying literature is brilliant. As I keep saying, I am so glad I didn't decide to study something like engineering or medicine or history or even psychology. I'm not saying this out of some sort of reverse snobbery (well... maybe a little), but out of sheer genuine gladness. I doubt anything could be so immensely satisfying as reading a Shakespearean play or a beautiful poem, dissecting it, examining the pieces and then putting it all back together and discovering with awe and wonder that it is even more beautiful than before.

Take modern poetry for example. When I stepped into the first year class, I had some quite decided opinions on it, based on some poems of Nizim Ezekiel (who I still detest, by the way) that we were prescribed in school. This can't be poetry, I'd decided. Where are the beautiful rhyme schemes, the rhythms, the structure that pleases the eye? But somewhere between Arnold's Dover beach and Eliot's patient etherised upon a table... somewhere in Hughes' amazingly clear imagery and through the quiet beauty of Harjo's poetry, I fell in love and have not gone back. Now I find myself drawn like never before to the poetry section of Landmark.

I still don't know why the building I live in is built in a certain way. I have not the foggiest clue about calculus and what little trig I crammed is long forgotten. I have embarassingly little knowledge about many important things in life. But I doubt any other discipline would have helped me discover the wonders of Kant, the obscurity of Hegel... How every opressor must one day be opressed, what goes around comes around... How Jung is perhaps unfairly overshadowed by Freud and how Indian writing in English is not as boring and depressing as I thought it was... How there are more greys than either black or white in this world... How humans are humans whether they lived in Ancient Rome or present-day India... How everything in the world is a great, huge, amazing, dizzying circle. So all I have to say is...

Studying literature is brilliant.

Parody #4: Under Ambattur Skies

2007-06-24T23:13:00.000+05:30

Well here it is... the first edition of the Terrible Ambattur Parodies. These were created via that most mystic medium: back-and-forth-smsing between me and my fellow stalwart Ames
You have been warned.Enjoy! :D

Under Ambattur Skies
(Sung to the tune of Behind Blue Eyes)

No one knows what it's like
To be the dusty girls
To be the dirty girls
Under ambattur skies

And no one knows what it's like
To be itchy
To be scratchy
Under ambattur skies

But my bus is not as empty
As my copy seems to be
I have hours before I get home
My bus is grimey and never free

Honestly!

2007-06-16T22:15:00.000+05:30

How important is honesty, really?

I don't mean the not-lying-to-your-friends type of honesty. It's not even really a moral question. I mean honesty to yourself. I've always thought it was essential. But lying to yourself is such a comfort. Sometimes you need to have certain illusions about certain people and situations in order to be happy. You might know it deep inside that what you think--either negative or positive--is not really true. But we bury this knowledge sometimes in order to love or hate a person in peace. So if the thought slides to the surface, is it ok to push it away? Is it ok to lie to yourself?

Or am I gonna wake up one day and realise that a whole set of my beliefs are--or maybe even I am--actually no more substantial than a breeze?

Yelagiri

2007-06-12T19:17:00.000+05:30

Here are some pics I took on a recent weekend trip to Yelagiri. The place is damn beautiful. Not (yet) a hot vacation getaway so it's quite fresh.

Will shut up now and let the photos do the talking

Tête à Tête...

Looming Skies...

The Path...

(Pic by Vaish ^)

The Half-hidden Gate...

Duckies!

(Pic by Vaish ^)

View from Heaven...

Morning Smiles...

Dawn

Checking out the view...

(Pic by Priti ^)

Can't have too many sunrises!

Reflections...

Waking up to this view

That's some caffeine addiction!

Highway overload!

Speeding home...

The sun sets...

Well, here it is!

2007-06-01T21:06:00.000+05:30

... My penny's... er, paisa's... worth. Since my fellow interns (try all three words) have all spoken about this rather grim(ey) month (grim for me at least ;) [nah, not really]), I guess this is my cue!

Hm so well I really won't go into details. Trust me, they're really boring (even to me!) especially cos it was (gasp!) an educational experience. As a result of this, I have:

...become more confident about bus travel

...seen more of the city than I ever thought i would

...realised what exactly dust, heat, unfamiliar company (til they became familiar, that is!) and an untterly amazingly charmless part of the city can do to your morale! (hey, did i say city? wow, so ambattur is actually PART of the city. Hehe. please ignore the cattiness!)

...started to acknowledge the number pad on the right corner of the keyboard does, in fact, exist! (long story cut short: a weird MS-DOS-based word processor, unlearning all Word techniques and several VERY frustrating hours of actually getting work done!)

...learned that hunger can actually make all swill taste like amritam

...realised that friends of the same wavelength (aka Ames, Bentley and Pyne) are absolute TREASURES!

...Discovered that journalism, thank you very much, is definitely off the "Maybe This Can Be A Viable Career Option When I'm Desperate For Money and Independence" list. (Becoming a world-famous writer, robbing a bank and kidnapping bill gates for a large ransom are still on, you'll be pleased to know)

...learned all about the properties, whims, extremely cooling nature of SWEAT and how it's really not God's premature revenge on an agnostic.

...shed some kilos (sob!)

...learned that there is a light side to everything... especially dust, which is so light that a tiny little baby breeze can make it rise and settle... on people!

... discovered my skills at creating truly terrible ambattur parody songs (will spring those on the unwary later... *evil look*)

...felt relieved that my social skills are still just hovering at the zero level.

...realized WATER EEEES GOOOOOOOOOOOD!

More later then...

How romantic! :P

2007-05-09T00:37:00.000+05:30

Which Major Romantic Poet Would You Be (if You Were a Major Romantic Poet)?

You are Samuel Taylor Coleridge! The infamous "archangel a little damaged!" You took drugs and talked for hours, it's true, but you also made a conscious choice to cultivate the image of the deranged poet in a frenzy of genius. You claimed you wrote "Kubla Khan" in an afternoon after a laudanum, when you pretty manifestly did no such thing. You and your flashing eyes and floating hair. And your brilliant scholarship and obvious genius.
Take this quiz!

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And so

2007-04-26T15:32:00.000+05:30

Life moves on strangely. One year ago, you're sitting in the same place, doing the same things. Endless, meaningless activities. "Hi", "Goodbye", "Awesome", "I love you", "Dammit". Meaningless phrases that you use a million times.

Yet you're so different inside now. You aren't and can never be that person who sat there and said and did the same things as you do and say now. Every minute, this complex, confusing and evolving entity that is YOU keeps changing.

You look for stability. That's very important. As is being constant. And dependable. You try to keep your morals, your opinions, your life, on one track. What a ridiculous notion. Yesterday you thought that metal wasn't music, just noise. Yet today, you tap your foot to the rhythm, the music that your ears suddenly discover. Yesterday, the opposite sex was something mysterious and vaguely disgusting. Today, the opposite sex remains mysterious but disgusting? No.

Stability? Don't make me laugh.

No matter who you are inside: a liar, a philosopher, a woman, a leaf, a musician, a thief, a poet... No matter who you are, be faithful to those notions of dependability. Be constant. Make yourself what you were yesterday. And so, fool yourself. That's all right. As long as you don't change.

Lying to the only person you have always been with from birth is all right. Go ahead.

R.I.P.

2006-12-10T01:21:00.000+05:30

It just struck me that it's been more than a year since I started blogging. This led me to wonder if I've wasted a lot of web space and my time on this blog. What have I gained?

When I started, there were very few people I knew who blogged and the comments were few. But I kept blogging simply for the enjoyment if it and also because it was good practice for writing. Sure, I got a comment now and then and definitely got some irritating spam. But later, I roped a couple of my friends into blogging and somehow just found other Indian bloggers... and there were many more comments. So much so, I once had more than 30 comments for a two-line entry!

Blogging then began to seem to have a real community for itself, one with it's own rules and etiquette: comment regularly, not just when you have a new entry up and so want to attract notice; be appreciative and put negative criticism nicely so as to not hurt fragile egos; if not, have the courage to say what you want without going anonymous--most bloggers detest anons!; or just don't comment at all!; and, above all, to remember that what goes around, comes around, especially in such a small community.

But somehow, after a year of spacefillers, thoughts, jokes, comments and template changing, I got bored with blogging and eventually stopped. I've made some friends through blogging so I guess that's one good thing. I don't really care if my words are going to be immortalised by this blog or something equally dramatic. The blog has served it's purpose.

And now I guess it has died a natural death at the ripe old age of one. I might revisit with a couple of "ghost" entries, but I pronounce this blog officially dead. The pawprints are left behind in the sands of time :)

Before I sign off, I'd like to say, thanks for reading, commenting, all the support and enthusiasm.

From comp crashes to crashes. Bytes to bytes.

Rest In Peace.

Star Gazing

2006-11-28T10:35:00.000+05:30

There’s something indescribably wonderful about a clear night. Like tonight. There’s no moon and since it’s 12.30 in the night, all the intrusive, jarring shop lights are, bless the stars (excuse the pun!), switched off for the night. With only insubstantial, light, fluffy clouds scuttling across the sky, the sky is so open and the stars are bright.

It’s only too easy to let the imagination run wild and think of our ancient forefathers looking up at nearly the very same sky and, inspired by it, writing their mythology based on the wonders they saw there. The fancy almost instantaneously creates a picture of the dying Keats looking up at the sky, yearning with all his heart to be an immortal, steadfast star and penning with the blood of his soul, his last sonnet. The very sight of a dark, endless sky conjures pictures of philosophers, saints and heroes staring upwards into the vast unknown, yearning for home, knowlege, divinity, inspiration! Although I know that more than the iron bars of the window–and centuries of civilization that gave birth to the buildings around me–separate me from those ancient men and women, it only takes a little bit of imagination and a glance at the beautiful night sky to take me far into other realms.

The little pin points of the stars shine like diamonds and only deepen the mystery of it all. Science fights for its say: Yes, in these ‘enlightened’ times, we do know that stars are actually brilliant balls of gaseous substance burning an unaccountable number of light years away. The mind registers as the eye sees the stars that the light from the star is so ancient that one of those stars is probably long dead, yet the light shines on. (The mind begins to hum stuff like, Shine on you crazy diamond!) But science can never really take away the mystery, the romance of ‘the starlit dome’. In fact, sometimes it deepens it.

I never come away from a star gazing session without feeling deeply humbled. Is there any greater proof of the insignificance of man than the knowledge of how huge Space is and the sight of the night sky? A star twinkles suddenly, very fiercely, and all I can think is, imagine how bright, how huge, how mindbogglingly hot it must be for its light to reach across the long stretch of dark space to this little blue-green planet, and these even tinier, feeble human eyes!

Only a step away from these thoughts are the thoughts of… other eyes. Other kinds of senses than are known to man, registering the very same phenomena from other planets. Across the unbelievable “out there” that we call space, surely there must be other life forms–or something beyond human definitions of life forms. Surely they must be looking up at the sky too, perhaps close enough to register the sun’s light. Would they feel the same wonder, the same sense of smallness? Would they want to discover all the secrets of the universe? And would they, as I do, step back from a window to say, let the universe keep its secrets?

Sure knowledge would take away too much of the uncertainties that open up the skies, not only physically but also in my mind!

Why, oh why?

2006-07-15T15:24:00.000+05:30

You're a Hyena!

You have quite a sense of humor, though many others find it derisive
rather than appealing. You are perceived as being a coward, but actually have moments
of great bravery and have even stood up to those much larger than yourself. You like
hanging out in groups and are always making a lot of noise. Disney thinks you are an
idiot.

Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Have you ever wondered...

2006-07-04T21:57:00.000+05:30

Why rain makes the ground smell so good? Why you just have to continue talking to some people even at the wee hours of the morning with heavy eyelids and a parched throat? Why, at times, it's easier to just accept a lie rather than face the truth? Why toenails and hair keep growing and never give up, even though we cut them all our lives? About how you've waited for something all your life without even being aware of it--until it happens? Why the years go on and on no matter what happens? Why rules are so easy to break?

Ever wondered how fidelity could be possible? Why you can't just jump off a building and float gently to the ground? Why science often ruins the fun part of life? Why your left hand is longer than the right? Or vice versa? Why people keep insisting on believing in things without a shred of proof? At how faith works--or doesn't work--for you? Why your foot can't stop tapping to certain tunes? Why sometimes even the most earnest and passionate love leaves you unmoved and cold? Why grief fades in time though you think it never will? Why our deepest wishes are often the hardest to be realised? Why all of as are basically the same deep inside no matter which part of the world we're from?

Ever wondered why we wonder so much? Or why some of us have lost our sense of wonder?

Ever wondered why?

Why not?

Morality

2006-06-24T19:23:00.000+05:30

Morality is the most unnatural of human inventions. It goes against the basic nature of man--the very instinct of survival and procreation! We think it's wrong to lie, murder and have indiscriminate sex because well... it's wrong. But isn't it a very basic instinct of survival--lying and murder to protect yourself and sex to procreate?

Now I'm not saying that I'm going to turn into a murderer or a liar or sleep with people whenever it takes my fancy. In fact, that's the point I'm trying to make. I cannot do all these things because today's society has deemed it immoral and even punishable because it harms the society.

So... it's survival in another level isn't it? Hmm. I seem to have argued myself into a box. Genius.

So much for the loooong post I envisioned. Ah, close this window and forget you ever read this! Unless you want to comment of course :D

The Joys of Depression

2006-06-10T20:56:00.000+05:30

I firmly believe in the goodness of depression. I don't mean the long-term, suicidal depression that psychiatrists warn us about, which would perhaps also turn into other exotic mental illness, but the short term fits of 'down'ness that most of us go through. Yes, I believe, through eighteen-and-half long years of experience, in the cathartic effect of a good, old-fashioned, garden-variety pity party.

I truly think that everybody should experience the wonders of wallowing in self-pity at least once in their life time. I'm sure most people would know what I'm talking about: Those times when you think that the whole world is out to get you (when not even a quarter of the human population, [never mind other species] is aware of your existence) and that everybody hates you, nobody loves you, and let's go dig the garden for worms to eat. Somehow there's nothing as satisfying as that feeling! Now I'm not saying it's the same for everyone. I'm sure there are lots of variations in theme such as the I'm-too-fat tirade, or the I'm-too-skinny variation or the I'm-really-a-worthless-person thingummy, or the… well, you get the drift.

The best setting for these moments, I find, would be a dark room or an empty terrace or even a bathroom. As I said, there are variations. You can also get down in the dumps at the top of the Empire State Building (or the LIC building, a lil closer to home). Even trains maybe conducive to the gloomy atmosphere. Oh, and rainy days must be the best times for depression (unless you're an impossible optimist, or a Chennai-ite!). I mean, picture this...

Scene: Indoors.
A window. A windows seat on which sits a young/old man/woman. It is raining outside and said young/old man/woman has his/her face close to the window. In the background is heard weeping violins/wailing sax or simply a depressing song such as 'Why Does It Always Rain On Me'. A (theatrical) teardrop falls down the smooth/wrinkled cheek.

Y/O M/W: Sigh. Woe is me. Oh gloom. Sniff.

Well, I do hope that illustrated my point--the perfection that is rain when it comes to feeling lonely and abandoned.

I, for one, am a master of these mope-fests. I revel in them. I enjoy them. I am completed by them. I make it a point to feel martyred or victimized at least once a month. I mean, one has to keep up standards, after all. And it's awesome, let me tell you! So much so that when you start getting into a better mood, it's with great reluctance that you let go of the feeling.

However, while in these moods, you realize your great capability for feeling down--over nothing! So, the rest of the time, it's quite easy to be bouncy and cheerful because, well... You know you have those special moments waiting for you at the end of the road, where you can feel all persecuted, etc.

Blah.

2006-06-07T21:23:00.000+05:30

Your face
A reflection
On the mirror of memories
Splashed with time's waters
Blurred, distant, fading.
The drops remain
Drying slowly
And then they are gone too.

Signs that you are addicted to blogging, have way too much time in your hands and seriously need to get a life.

2006-06-07T13:01:00.000+05:30

You check your blog at least once a day, if not once every hour, for comments even though you will be alerted about any new ones by email.

You have multiple blogs even though you have no idea why.

You have blogrolled at least 5 other people and check their blogs out regularly.

You are constantly on the look-out for things to add to your blog to make it more "interesting."

You go through the day thinking at least once, "Hey, I could write a blog post about this!"

You actually recognise people better through their display names than their real ones.

You have learned the basics of HTML just to edit your blog template.

You are scandalised by anyone who doesn't particularly like blogging.

You have edited "comments", "links" and "archives" to suit the 'mood' of your blog.

You find that this post is not really funny but is eeriely similar to your life.

THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:
-------------------------------------

BLOGOMANIA IS CURABLE IF DETECTED EARLY. IF YOU RECOGNISE ANY OF THE ABOVE SIGNS IN YOURSELF, PLEASE TAKE IMMEDIATE PRECAUTIONARY STEPS. YOU HAVE SEVERAL OPTIONS. THEY ARE (ARRANGED BY ORDER OF DESPERATION, MOVING FROM LEAST URGENT TO MOST):

Get some self control.

Get busy.

Get a life.

Delete your blogger account.

Unplug your internet connection.

Download a virus, crash your computer.

Throw away your computer.

UNFORTUNATELY, IF YOU HAVE THE LAST SYMPTOM (not finding the post funny, but similar to your life, etc.) IT'S TOO LATE. HAPPY BLOGGING!

Fitting in...

2006-06-01T02:21:00.002+05:30

I can't. Have never.

Can you? Have you?

Insomnia

2006-05-25T11:46:00.000+05:30

Thoughts claw at the mind, filling the brain to the point of bursting. Raw emotions flicker behind my heavy, sleep-deprived eyelids, forcing my mind from its stupor into a tired restlessness. Though the last ray of has light long since disappeared, the scorching red rays of fears and resurfacing nightmares pulse in my mind's eye as sleep eludes me.

I try counting sheep, but all I can think of are the comical sheep that jump fences from some long-forgotten cartoon. Yet the memory fails to elicit the slightest smile from me. I've lost count of the number of times I've tossed and turned. I take a deep breath, force my eyes closed and try to the think of nothing, to imagine me floating, light as a feather, in eternal nothingness. The guy in the book could do it so effortlessly. Hmm. Never finished that series--when is the next boo--? And, just like that, my eyes are wide open again, staring into the darkness.

The silence deafens me. The power failure silences the ac, the fan and the house is unnaturally quiet. The silence seems to press against my ears--so much so that if I let it last long enough, it seems to go 'ping' in my ear.

Light from outside make weird patterns on my walls. My imagination needs little prompting to spin wild images of unspeakable things from these patterns. The curtains flutter from a slight warm breeze. I force my eyes shut again and lie on my stomach--uncomfortably, as the heat makes the mattress stick to me. I mutter and wonder if the night will never end.

I throw pillows on the ground in frustration, then throw myself down too. The cool marble floor welcomes me like a swimmign pool, enveloping the body after a long hard day of work. I sigh... And slip into that blessed land of sleep.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After typing this out and re-reading it, I feel strangely compelled to justify putting this up on the blog. So bear with me...

I know exactly what brought this on--one sleepless night, duh. I got up and took a piece of paper and started writing this down. Not as brilliant as some other midnight brainwaves, I'm sure! But whatever, just had to put it up for some odd reason. This will probably embarass me sometime in the future, but hey! I don't really like the future me. So ha! She deserves it! ;)

Oh, and do be kind in your comments.

On second thought, spare the kindness. More interesting that way!

Errr... Ummm...

2006-05-24T18:34:00.000+05:30

Ok, this is a link ripped off vbk's blog, which says it was ripped off antickpix's blog and so on.

Sheesh! Does this mean no more toddy? Waaaaaah! No fair!

You're Love in the Time of Cholera!

by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Like Odysseus in a work of Homer, you demonstrate undying loyalty by
sleeping with as many people as you possibly can. But in your heart you never give
consent! This creates a strange quandary of what love really means to you. On the
one hand, you've loved the same person your whole life, but on the other, your actions
barely speak to this fact. Whatever you do, stick to bottled water. The other stuff
could get you killed.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

I'm Alone...

2006-05-20T14:18:00.000+05:30

Human existence is one of loneliness. We are forever surrounded by people--people who love us, people who hate us, or people who are just indifferent. Yet, at the end of the day, we are alone. By that, I don't mean being left alone, deserted to the cruel clutches of fate or anything so dramatic. I just mean that no matter how many people are around us, we are isolated in ourselves--limited by the body to never experience what anyone else has experience in quite the same way; and limited by our minds to never think exactly as anyone else thinks. We exist in a bubble that will only admit one body, one mind and one soul (if you believe in souls, that is!) and nothing can really penetrate this bubble.

In fact, I think that the whole of human society is built around this. Man wants to escape this sense of loneliness and one way to do so is to surround himself with other humans who again exist in bubbles. The same goes with the whole concept of love, marriage, commitment, etc. People just need to feel that there's someone who can remove them from that bubble and give them company. And so the whole concept of love and relationships of any kind becomes so important.

So everytime this feeling of oneness is threatened, man reacts in the most violent and primitive way possible. That's why religion and patriotism are such touchy subjects and turns ever the most rational minds absolutely unreasonable. The circle of humanity surrounding them--either in the form of people of the same religion or of the same country--is being threatened. And this circle is very important to keep away the sense of loneliness. So obviously, a primal fear triggers a primitive reaction.

This also explains the abundance of conflict in any society. Every human is isolated and no matter how sympathetic a person can be, no one can really escape the confines of their bubble and enter another person's bubble. So no one truly understands what anyone else is going through. And so people start quarreling.

At the end of the day, the undeniable fact remains that we are alone in everything we do. Does this seem to pessimistic and cynical? Well, I am pessimistic and cynical. Or maybe you just can't see what I see from your bubble!

Tra la la...hmm mm.... la la la LAAA!

2006-05-18T16:12:00.000+05:30

Awesome weather! This, I feel, deserves a separate post.

It's been a looong time since chennai was overcast and cloudy like this. It's cool, with just the right temperature and humidity. It's put me in such a good mood that not even sounding like a weather forecast can stop me from humming!

Hope it pours. Maybe that's asking for too much, but hey, I can hope, can't I? Well anyway, enjoy the weather. It's too good to last long, I'm sure.

Hmmm mmm... la lala... tra la.

:D :D :D

Blog the Third

2006-05-12T02:10:00.000+05:30

Well I've gone and done it this time.

Hmm. Only after I typed that out did I realise how that sounds. Anyway, too lazy to hit backspace now.

It's just that I've started another blog. My third blog... four if you count the git blog too. This one will be quite regularely updated I think. It has all my favourite lyrics. You can find out more for yourself. Go see now. Shoo.

Oops. Almost forgot the link. Here it is. (Clickety click!)

Like a bad penny...

2006-05-11T16:45:00.000+05:30

I'm back! :D Yes, like the proverbial penny, I have managed to find my way back home without getting lost, much to the dismay of my sainted sister who loses her exclusive rights to the comp, the music and generally everything. Well, nothing lasts forever, as the cliche goes!

The trip to Kerala, needless to say, was great! I got to see some really beautiful places--backwaters, hills, lakes, china nets, etc etc. It was great, especially because I had a friend to yak with all the time.

And yes, my toddy dream did come true! You are now reading the blog of a veteran toddy drinker. Well, maybe that's overstating it a bit (but then, I always overstate things, what d'you expect?) I had a couple of glasses of toddy and it was fresh so not really alcoholic anyway. But yes, in my book, that's pretty good, thanks! I didn't get drunk or anything, I'm ashamed to say.

Unfortunately, I'm not in a very writey mood right now so really not going into any details.

Did I hear sighs of relief? Ha! You're not being let off that easily.

I'll be back.

I'll think.

I'll type.

You'll read.

I'll laugh. Mwahahahahahaha!

Goodbye, cruel world!

2006-04-26T18:49:00.000+05:30

Er... well, not exactly.

But it's just that I'm going away for the summer!

Er... well, not exactly.

I'm going away for about 10 days to God's own country, and while I doubt both his existence and his non-existence, I'm sure any sensible God would create a pretty awesome place to call his own. What's more, I'm going with a friend so it ought to be even more fun! And, oh, the food! Yum!Sigh, will be back as fat as... something really fat (too lazy to think of a good similie).

This means no updates for a while. There there, don't cry! It'll be alright.

I'm sure I'll be missed. If anyone contradicts me on that statement, I'll be very very angry and we wouldn't want that, now, would we?

Anyway, buh-bye! Have fun and don't be naughty. :D

Semester's End

2006-04-20T18:28:00.000+05:30

Today I wrote my last exam, finished my last working day for this acacdemic year. I'm sure this is when I should get all retrospective and start spouting great philosophy about life and all that, but all I can come up with is:

YAY!

That's just a reflexive reaction of course, to the end of the year. I'm sure I'll be bored brainless n start missing my friends before even a quarter of the summer is gone. Most of them are going to various exotic summer retreats, leaving me to fry in the Chennai summer heat :'( Waaah! Not fair!

To think about it, the year hasn't been such a trial that I feel relieved that the summer holidays are here.

Well, college was... not anything unexpected. Probably because I didn't really have any expectations. I've enjoyed my course... in a relative way, as compared to school. Lit hasn't been a disappointment though I think the more interesting papers are in the next four sems. I can't really say if I've learned anything new, though. Hmm.

As for other fun stuff. Well I've made some awesome friends, learned a lot of things about people in general and also about myself. That sounds kinda corny but it's true. I can claim confidently that I've learned a LOT, apart from academics. (I'm not going to share the little pearls of wisdom with the world. I'm greedy, gonna hoard them all.) I'll just say that it's been good. I've found some new friends, lost some old ones. I've met a lot of interesting people and best of all, I've discovered the joys of blogging! It's like a world of its own, all by itself.

So thanks people, for both putting up with me, reading and commenting on my blog and also for giving me so much to read about.

Guess this entry has turned out to be for all my fellow bloggers!

Weird...

Fave quotes...

2006-04-12T19:44:00.000+05:30

Well, this is another bit of cheating but not out of desperation. I really wanted to put up my all time/current fave quotes. They're really mixed up--serious one mixed with the funny ones--but love 'em all! :D Haven't included poetry though. That would make it too long (it already is!) Well enough preamble...

A mirror
keeps me honest.
With your eyes I see me
doubting my sanity.

-Rini Mukkath

And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?
-Pink Floyd "Wish You Were Here"

We're just two lost souls, swimming in a fish bowl
-Pink Floyd "Wish You Were Here"

If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one
Drying in the colour of the evening sun
Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away
But something in our minds will always stay
-Sting "Fragile"

But my God woke up
On the wrong side of his bed
And it just don't matter now
- Oasis "Little by Little"

Let them eat cake
-Queen Marie Antoinette (when told that the people had no bread)

By the time this is over, I'm gonna need a whole lota serious therapy. Look at my eye twitchin'!
- Donkey from "Shrek"

Hold the phone.
-Shrek

I want my Miranda rights! You were supposed to say I have the right to remain silent! You didn't say I have the right to remain silent!

Donkey! You HAVE the right to remain silent! What you lack is the ability!

-From "Shrek 2"

The sky resembles a backlit canopy
With holes punched in it
- Incubus "I Wish You Were Here"

He who laughs, lasts
-Unknown

If I ever met myself, I'd hit myself so hard I won't know what's hit me.
-Zaphod Beeblebrox, HHGG

The Universe was created and a lot of people were unhappy.

For a moment, nothing happened. After a moment, nothing continued to happen.

-HHGG

When angry count four; when very angry, swear.
-Mark Twain

Civilization is a limitless multiplication of unnecessary necessities.
-Mark Twain

I don't question YOUR existence.
-God

I am an agnostic pagan. I doubt the existence of many gods.
-Unknown

Do unto yourself what others would not do unto you. Enough said.
-http://meghalomania.com/

"Hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It's like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die."
- Native American Saying

"Together we can rule this world. All I need is your obedience and submission to my will!"
- Dr. Who

If you're parents never had children, the chances are you won't either
- Unknown

"Books are fatal: they are the curse of the human race. Nine-tenths of existing books are nonsense, and the clever books are the refutation of that nonsense. The greatest misfortune that ever befell man was the invention of printing."
-Benjamin Disraeli. (NOTE: Reading addict that I am, I don't necessarily agree with this. Thought that it maybe had a glimmer of truth in it.)

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take your breath away
- From "Hitch"

"It is only possible to succeed at second-rate pursuits -- like becoming a millionaire or a prime minister, winning a war, seducing a beautiful woman, flying through the stratosphere, or landing on the moon. First-rate pursuits -- involving, as they must, trying to understand what life is about and trying to convey that understanding -- inevitably result in a sense of failure. A Napoleon, a Churchill, a Roosevelt can feel themselves to be successful, but never a Socrates, a Pascal, a Blake. Understanding is forever unattainable. Therein lies the inevitability of failure in embarking upon its quest, which is nonetheless the only one worthy of serious attention."
Malcolm Muggeridge, 1965

Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months
- Oscar Wilde

Kill 1-20 and you're a Murderer
Kill 30 - 1000 and you're a Terrorist
Kill 10.000 - 20 million and you're a Conqueror/Dictator
Kill everyone and you're God

"Arguments are to be avoided; they are always vulgar and often convincing." - Oscar Wilde

"The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift." - Einstein.

Farnsworth: These are the dark matter engines I invented. They allow my starship to travel between galaxies in mere hours.
Cubert: That's impossible. You can't go faster than the speed of light.
Farnsworth: Of course not. That's why scientists increased the speed of light in 2208.
- Futurama.

On a universal scale our little corner of creation is a mere dimple on a pimple on a sand flea's nut, insignificant.
-PsychoticEpisode, Sciforums.com

HEHEHEHEHEHE!

2006-04-07T21:12:00.000+05:30

HAHAHAHA!

Ahem... For those of you who were frightened by the insane sound of laughter, I apologise. For those of you who were only mildly surprises/leaning towards irritation, well... Sorry again. That wasn't me laughing. Or rather, not the usual me. Now listen closely. Hear that mad laugh again? See! That wasn't me! I'm innocent.

That was this boring, uptight, librarian-types person in me. I call her Ms. Perfect. Not that she's perfect or anything. She just likes perfection. She likes to see everything in perfect order. And for this reason, she absolutely detests me! Why, you ask? Well, picture this scene. She's humming away to herself, thinking about life and how things are so--well--perfect. Then, I walk into my room and she starts screaming! She says, look at that mess! Pick up those clothes! Arrange those books! Cover the computer! Put away those cd's! Put all those loose scarps of paper in the dustbin. Speaking of which, eeks! Empty your dustbin for pete's--or anyone else's--sake! Now this is all pretty uncomfortable for me, especially since, if you remember, she's saying this a few hundred decibels higher than normal speech. Shrieking, basically. And in my head, to boot! Actually, I don't get what all the screaming is about. She sees the same mess everyday. It's not like it's surprising or anything!

Anyway, me, I don't bother with her rants and raves. I lie down, pick up a book, blast some music (which also drowns out her voice). It's not easy living with her. She has a similar fit every time she sees my bag, which has some very interesting things in it. Well, not so interesting, come to think of it. What I mean is that, my bag usually contains, besides books, pens, and other college-related paraphrenelia, some very interesting answer papers, in terms of irrelevant-crapping creativity. However, these remarkable pieces of illiterature are soon beaten to pulp and lie at the bottom of my bag, doomed to eternal indecipherability. Well, whatever it is, they basically give this woman--Ms Perfect--the creeps.

And let me not even get started on how she reacts when she sees my stalwart charger, best friend and general means of transportation, my bike. (Well, to be precise, it's a scooter but then--shoo! Sorry, that was Ms Perfect taking over for a moment. :D ) Well, where was I? Oh yes, my BIKE, covered in dust, water stains and blessings from my dear avian friends who surround my dwelling place. Well, even I admit it's not a pretty sight and I'm too darned lazy to wash it!

All right, I see now that in my usual scatter-brained way, I have meandered and wandered far from my original sentence. Which was--reading back and counting the number of ha's--HAHAHAHA!

Yes, that was Ms Perfect, for once sounding merry... well, more like insane actually. But before I digress even furthur, I'll tell you why. She's happy. And why? Because she just woke up and saw my blog (a little frown and a "hmph" of irritation from her at the way I began the sentence--the whole because because is a conjunction bit, but who cares?) Well anyway, she saw how I'd beautifully organised my links and all that. I mean, separated my general favourites from the more literary kinda stuff. And, gasp! Arranged the links in alphabetical order instead of the usual haphazard first-come last-appearance order. Yes, she's happy today.

OH! Heaven save me! Now she's getting vague notions about getting me to clean my room, clear my bag, wash my bike and organise my computer! What have I done?!

NOTE: No, I do not suffer from Multiple Personality Disorder. No, I am not ashamed of being a slob--too lazy for that. And no! I did not write the post dots and dashes--it was her, I tell you, her!

Idle Thoughts Vol. II

2006-04-05T13:43:00.000+05:30

Some random thoughts that seemed to be fighting to get out of my head. What better way than to put them down in my blog?

The blank page can be pretty intimidating. Sometimes, I just sit with a blank page in my hand and keep staring, willing my mind to stop wandering and focus on forming thoughts, words, sentences that make sense.

Sometimes there are people screaming in my head. They seem to be trying to get my attention. I start suspecting that I'm going mad, then realise with a jolt that the voices aren't in my head but people around me. And yes, they are trying to get my non-existent attention.

Relationships are funny. Sometimes you try not to say something that you know the other person wouldn't like to hear, skirt around any such subject and end up saying the thing that would irritate that person most, thinking it's the best thing to say. And in the end, you realise that the thing you were avoiding was what the person wanted to hear most.

Life is all about conflict. We are always in conflict with something or the other. Starting from nature, to the government, authority, enemies, rivals and friends, it is impossible to find someone who doesn't face conflict. If anyone manages to avoid these things, by some miracle, they will most probably find themselves in conflict with themselves.

When I don't sleep well some times, I hear voices and arguments in my head the whole of the next day. Is this because I'm mad--a distinct possibily--or is it just half-forgotten dialogues from movies and books that my mind remembers due to some subconscious crap? I think this is possible to because last time the whole Marvin and the Mattress scene from somewhere in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy ran through my head. The matress even flooped and all that.

Weird... But hey! Dain bramaged... That's me!

Carpe Diem

2006-04-02T18:16:00.000+05:30

I just realised something. A grand revelation, if you will. An ephiphanic one, even. No, I havent found the answer to the meaning of life, the universe and the mystery of the little green men under my table. And sorry, no medical miracles. It's pretty simple: seize the day!

I've always been the cautious kind... for longer than I can remember. I always think things through meticulously before doing anything. Instinct and spontaneity totally lose out to my left brain. While this may sound like a good thing to some people, what it essentially means is... I'm boring.

Then I realised something. Yes, that was the grand revelation, the epi--well, you get the idea. Life is pretty short, cliches aside. In fact, we're born astride the grave as someone (Brecht, I think, any ideas?) said. The whole of life is how we fill up that gap between birth and death. At the end of it all, wouldn't anyone want to fill that gap in a fun, interesting way?

To me that would be learning to let go of caution for once and just take a wild jump off a cliff, hoping it wouldn't be such a steep fall after all. Once in a while, it's good to just let go and see what life throws at you. You might be concentrating so much on avoiding the pitfalls that you might also miss the perks! Aren't great oportunities for fun and happiness worth a few bruises and scrapes?

This doesn't mean abandoning all sense of self-preservation, of course. One would still want to look out for those serious problems that are so easy to find. But for now, just grab life with both hands and take control! Who knows, it might bring something totally unexpected and wonderful! And if it doesn't, you could look back and say that at least you had the courage to try rather than sit and wait in safety and never discover if the thing you waited for even existed. Seize the day! :D

Am I Mad?

2006-03-27T17:05:00.000+05:30

I have asked myself this question many times. I've lost count of the number people who've asked me this question. And those who have answered it with a decisive YES!

Yes, I admit I am strange. I have strange habits. Such as a previosuly mentioned mania for punctuation. And such a suspicious mind that I often seem paranoid even to myself! And... ahem... there is the little matter of my blog. I am sure many of those who have read it have left with an impression of a distinctly unsound mind.

Well anyway, if you know me you should be able to answer this question. If you don't, then please don't base your answer on this little patch of webspace. As my blog title hints, my other side is much more sane.

Oh, and in answering this question, please don't bother to be honest. HeheheheheHEHEHE!

Good lord! I am mad!

Crap

2006-03-22T15:17:00.000+05:30

Crap. Nuts. Bullshit, even.

This, ladies and gentlemen and those of the neutral gender, is uncreative crapping. Which happens to be the direct opposite of the creative crapping that went on today in my Creative Writing paper. This is much more bearable, believe you me! Well, sigh, can't force creativity. My blog(s) stand testament to this fact, I believe. But I'm not giving up hope yet! I shall persevere until I can persevere no more--i.e., when they nail my coffin shut/cremate me or...gasp! When they take away my computer. NOOOOO! *Runs screaming*

I wiiiiill be back. Astalavista, my babies! ;)

Feminism...

2006-03-18T20:39:00.000+05:30

Delicate topic, probably stepping on a lot of toes here so I'll start off with a disclaimer.

The thoughts expressed below (such as they be) are my own. I do not expect you to conform to them. I do not judge anyone with conflicting opinions--I respect your opinion. This is not an attack of any strain of philosophy except maybe some hypothetical alien ones. However, heated discussions, arguments and mild fist-fights are welcome! :D Other than that, as someone I know would say, "Peace out....!"

I'm female.And as anyone who has known me for even a short while would tell you, I'm a feminist. I'm not ashamed of it, nor proud of it. I just am. And I believe lots of women claim to be (and are) to a variety of extents. I'm not a rabid one, not a spineless one. Somewhere in between. Or so I think. I don't hate men. Someone once told me they thought I did and this baffled me. I asked around and many people seemed to think the same thing. So I start off saying this. I don't hate men. I dislike some things about them but find me one person who doesn't like the something about the opposite sex and I'll find you a vella kakka (for the slang illiterate: white crow)! :)

But one thing I'm sure of is that I'm a feminist to some extent. What I don't understand about some women is that they claim to feminists yet are unwilling to give up the comforts that go hand-in-hand with the demand for equality. Take the example of buses. A lot of women--including some feminists--expect a man to get up and give them a seat if the bus is too crowded. The same applies to opening doors and pulling out chairs.

Women of this age are trying to break the shackles of ages of discrimination against them based on a puny little chromosome. Yet they accept these so-called signs of "chivalry" as their due. Is a woman incapable of opening a door for herself? Does she who, when alone, is able to do these little things and more by herself, suddenly find herself incapable of a task that requires less IQ and muscle than a toddler's?

When I state this, most people argue saying that I'm being too pessimistic and unnecessarily negative about the whole thing. It's just a sign of caring, they say. Don't women like to be pampered? My argument is that, sure, it's a sign of caring. Very sweet n all that. But how come women aren't expected to do the same for men? Or do you mean men don't like to be pampered?

It's also the same with men paying for all the dating expenses. Seriously, we're not in the middle ages. Women /girls get as much salary/pocket money as men/guys. So why is the guy expected to pay the bill? This is the height of unfariness! Men are getting a pretty raw deal, aren't they?

But then one may argue that lots of things work as men want them to so maybe women do deserve these perks. Well, these are the very inequalities feminism claims to want to abolish. Then why support them?

The Gits

2006-03-15T22:14:00.000+05:30

The University Gits are currently a group of 9 (and growing!) students belonging to a certain university. Or rather college. They are united by their wackiness and the place where they sit. A lot can be said about the university gits. But I believe in letting things--and sometimes people--speak for themselves (read: I'm lazy). So go see their webpage. It's new so please forgive the lack of info. Lots of updates can be expected and looked forward to in all eagerness.

Oh and I wouldn't be surprised if some of you find an irritating git named SirGit very familiar (hint, hint).

Long live the mighty Gits!

The Silence of the Blogs

2006-03-08T21:42:00.001+05:30

Until I started blogging, I didn't realise how difficult inspiration is to come by. In the pre-blogging days, I was blissfully ignorant of the difficulties writers of any kind face--even bad ones!--the mysterious, gloomy, dark, frightening plane of consciousness (otherwise called the writer's block)! While many people claim that no such thing exists and, that in essence, a writer's block is simply laziness, I have this to say to them: not bleddy true!

Obviously these individuals have never written a creative paragraph in their life unless we're talking about the "creative crapping" that goes on in exam halls. They have probably never exerted themselves to think and transfer those thoughts (such as they may be) to paper/the screen. In other words, they suffer from perenial writer's block, and "laziness" by their own terminology.

It's either that or they are supremely gifted and eternally inspired by every little stone or piece of plastic or old smely socks or rotten vegetable around them. This is a possibility, although my instinctive response to this goes in terms of not bleddy likely!

To get back to the long-forgotten point... I, in my ignorance, merrily started my own little blog--with a great fantasy that marvellous pieces of literature and humour would come pouring forth from my fingertips! I managed to find inspiration quite often the first few weeks and even months. But then...

But then! Ah, my dear friends... then, tragedy struck! Besides becoming overly dramatic, I also found that I had, quite simply, nothing to write about! Well, sure, there are lots of things I can write about. But who really wants to read endless accounts of my daily routine--which hardly changes--or the weather--which they can read for themselves from anywhere anyway!

And this was the exact point when I started feeling that I had to write something or my blog would die of shame or something. I tried desperately, but all to no avail. And in the end, I cheated. Yes, I confess, I cheated! I added little things like a comic strip, a shoutbox, a visit counter, a superhero test result, etc.

And the final, most shocking cheating that I've done...is this post! For I have turned a lack of inspiration into the subject of an entire post. (Pretty devious and clever I thought but dont expect anyone to share the opinion. The world never recognises genius, after all!)

So here I stand before you, with bowed head and guilt-laden shoulders. I have cheated. I have tricked. And what do I have to say for myself?

NOTHING BLEDDY MUCH!

SHOUT!

2006-02-12T14:30:00.000+05:30

I've added a shoutbox to my blog. It's on the right hand panel if you didnt notice! Please leave messages there if you want to. Click on "get one" at the bottom of it if you want one for your own blog.... Have fun!

Idle thoughts...

2006-02-11T21:17:00.000+05:30

Every once in a way I wonder, as every human with too much time in their hands does, why are we here? No, I don't mean the Internet, though that is an equally puzzling question (hmm... interesting... but that's another story for another post). I mean... why are we here, on earth, living. The meaning of life, the universe and everything, if you will. What's the point of it all? We live, eat, speak, procreate--or not--, laugh, cry and die. What is the point of it all?

Maybe as unborn foetuses we were aware that it a sheer pointless existence awaits us outside the mother's womb. Perhaps that is why we are born kicking and screaming.... We are aware of what we are getting into. But later we forget. Some of us forget to such an extent that we begin to think that there is, in fact, a huge "purpose" for our existence. That we actually are meant to do something.

Perhaps we are. Sometimes I think that humans evolved (or were put on earth, depending on what you believe in) to destroy it. I mean, maybe we are meant to destroy the earth, like a virus. Maybe the Earth is just a single cell in some unbelievably huge animal. But then again, is that logic talking or the Ego? The need to have a purpose for life. We cannot accept that we are just a piece of conincidence, created and destroyed by the same coincidence.

The human ego is the fountainhead of all our beliefs. I think I lifted that from somewhere... Ayn Rand or something, but it's true. All our belief systems are based on an overblown perception of ourselves, a strong belief--or perhaps wishful thinking--on the superiority of the human race. We are presumptuous enough to talk of a greater Being and imagine narrow mindedly that we were fashioned after such a Being and that It can, in fact, be defined by shallow human terms.

The highest expression of human Ego is the belief that all our insignificant little activities are actually important to anyone but us. But when you think about it, we humans are the freaks of nature. We go against almost every rule of nature. Yet we consider ourselves superior to all other forms of being. We call ourselves intelligent and speak of that intelligence as something precious when in fact it is the root of all destruction on earth.

GASP! Take a breath Jan. Man, I hate getting all philosophical and thoughtful but these thoughts have been stewing in my mind for sometime so they needed an outlet. I guess my blog was the best place to dump them. I was just interrupted in the middle of writing this and when I came back I realised how...I dunno... stupid all this sounds. But then, it's my stupidity so I don't want to delete it when I immortalise it in the world of the internet.

Basically, I havent written anything in a while. Really wanted to put up something. So pliz excoos!

Calvin... yet again.

2006-02-10T22:46:00.000+05:30

Ok, bill watterson is probably gonna sue me or something.... But couldn't resist!

Spider... Hmmmmmmmmm

2006-02-09T17:33:00.000+05:30

You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man		70%
Hulk		65%
Green Lantern		60%
The Flash		55%
Robin		53%
Supergirl		53%
Superman		50%
Wonder Woman		48%
Catwoman		45%
Iron Man		45%
Batman		30%

You are intelligent, witty,
a bit geeky and have great
power and responsibility.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

Unanswered questions

2006-02-02T21:28:00.000+05:30

At some point in life, all of us go through a phase of sheer madness. To me, these phases are a regular phenomena. A brain child (or brainless child) or one such mood of mine is my new blog, "Life's Unanswered Questions" (TADA! Trumpets, please.) Please check it out her e
Enjoy having your dain bramaged.

With lots and lotsa love from me!!!

Dots and dashes

2006-01-15T14:31:00.000+05:30

There's something about punctuation. I read a lot and most--almost all--these books have perfect punctuations. They are all punctuated, italicised, aligned and presented in the proper manner. I guess my eyes are used to properly proofread text. And that it why, I state in my defence, I'm so finicky about punctutation.

A page of print with incorrect punctuation, spellings or any kind of error seems to drive me crazy. My hands itch to grab it, edit it and throw it back from whence it sprang! And this is kind of inconvenient, especially when people ask me my opinion on anything they've written. This doesn't happen a lot but we generally swap stories in my creative writing class and you can imagine how disconcerting it must be for a budding--er--creative writer to be criticised on how many dots ideally go into an elipse--three--and how multiple exclamation marks are a huge no-no for writing. So, I am forced to keep my diplomatic silence and struggle to look beyong the mundane--the world of proper punctuation--and into the deeper plane, that of the actual matter written.

I guess I'm one of those rare indivuiduals who are not irritated overmuch with the Grammar and Spelling checker on Microsoft Word. Of course, I agree with most people regarding how irritating the message "Fragment. Consider revising." can be. I mean, sometimes you want it to be a bleeding fragment. But oh... I love auto-corrects which turn double hyphens into emdashes and single hypens into endashes. And replace-alls are so wonderful!

I'm sure I've just revealed what a lunatic I am from the above. I mean, who obsesses over puntuations? Who really gives a damn what the hell an emdash is? But again, I defend myself that everyone has a pet obsession and this is mine. Who doesn't? Let me see a show of hands? Wasn't there a guy who obsessed over his coins? Silas something? And what about... hmm... oh, yes! What about dogs who can't sleep or even lie down without circling the ground a couple of times? Never mind that the first was fictitious and the latter is an animal. It illustrates my point well enough. I'm not neurotic or kooky just because I believe that all your i's should be dotted and your t's crossed...literally!

If you're still not convinced, fine! I am a kook. But at least I'm a well-edited kook! Now how many people can claim that? Mwahahaha!

Time...

2006-01-14T11:48:00.000+05:30

We humans have created a lot of traps for ourselves and we seem to revel in being caught in them. One of these traps is time. Man is the only animal which is obsessed with keeping track of and measuring time. All our lives are built around one kind of time table or the other. We have scedules that we feel we must meet or the world will come to an end.

Do we do this because we need to feel special or important? Man is at constant war with nature, no matter what ecologist and environmentalists try. It's not so much a struggle for space as it is for power. Man knows that nature is thousands of times more powerful than he is. He may be able to maim and conquer it today, but the inexorable hand of time will prove yet again that man is just a part of a whole that is still supremely controlled by nature.

Which comes back to time. By trying to control the little slice of time, man is able to delude himself that he has some control over the world at that point. But isn't this is just an illusion? No matter what, man's influence is only temporary, in the big picture. Sure, we've changed the face of the earth, but for how long? How soon is man going to kill himself off or end all life on earth? But no matter what man does, the earth itself will not change. Life will go on even after man is long gone and not even a memory of him remains. Nature will revive life even if the earth is just a toxic dump when man is through with it. At least cockroaches or some such resilient creature will remain.

But while man lives, I guss these illusions are necessary. After I'm done writing this, I'm going to look at my watch and make sure I have enough time to get ready to go out. I am going to be enslaved by the need to mark time as much as anyone else. That today is saturday and tomorrow is sunday is going to matter as much as ever.

2005-12-25T14:51:00.000+05:30

"Except for perhaps a few dozen people on earth each person reads the same words differently. And the joke get bigger because each day the same person reads the same words differently.
And the joke gets even bigger as the mind’s needs and hormones changes the meanings of these same words in the same person from minute to minute and second to second.

And the Supreme Comedy can only rocket to another level when you ask me what these words mean when I have nothing to do with the way the meanings of words change from person to person let alone minute to minute.

And the Supreme Comedy rockets yet to another hilarious level when dictionaries then go on to tell us, with the utmost authority, that the same words can have different meanings, in different ways but not on different days."
-Source Unknown

Reader's block...

2005-12-24T20:58:00.000+05:30

I'm sure anyone who's tried to write regularly has stumbled upon the painful and mysterious phenomenon of the writer's block. The thoughts would probably fill the mind to the bursting but the minute the pen touches the paper/the fingers touch the keys, the mind goes blank. The words just won't flow.

Well, I'm not gonna talk about that. I mean, who cares. As long as I'm not afflicted with it, who gives a flying damn? Self-centered, you say? True... too true...

But what I do suffer from is a rare affliction. In fact, I think I might have invented it. Many years from now, it shall become a famous incurable even somewhat fatal disease named after me... Jan Sydrome. Wow! The thought fills me with an odd kinda elation. Immortalised through a disease. How many people can claim that in this day and age?

Anyway, back to the actual details of this mysterious affliction. I'm, anyone who knows me will tell you, a serious bookworm. A maniacal bookworm too. While I'm sure that there are people who read much more than I did, do or ever will, I nevertheless read a lot. Lately, however, my reading has come to a complete halt. I pick up a book, read a few lines and wham! I cant concentrate. At first I thought it was just the books I was choosing.

But to my horror, I discovered that nothing - I repeat nothing - could snap me out of that rut. I tried everything--all my favourite authors. Douglas Adams, Jordan, Gabaldon, Rowling, Nora Roberts. I tried some obscure vampire book I had lying around. I tried a much unread copy of Great Expectations, but nope. No deal.

But there is hope for me. By the mercy of the all that is good, I happened to be gifted a copy of Wodehouse's Full Moon -- A Blandings Story for new year. And yes! This seems to be the right cure for J.S. (Jan Syndrome :D) I'm now into the whole crack-pot life of Blandins Castle with the usual bunch of youngsters in love running around, plotting parents, not to mention miscellaneous crackpot noblemen and their maniacal pigs. Ah! I was in heaven!

Hats off, Pelham!

Ah, the pain...

2005-12-20T20:10:00.000+05:30

I have discoverd a great, yawning hole in my life. A hole that cannot be filled with anything. Except perhaps with pain. In fact, it is filled with pain. So maybe it's not such a yawning hole after all. Strike that first sentence. Which would mean, strike out the whole thing.

I have discovered a great pain in my heart. In my soul. It is created, I believe, by the discovery of my inability for greatness. Ah, yes. I can see the reader sigh in sympathy (perhaps I should refer to myself as "this writer" or "this blogger" [nah, always thought that sounded too pompus {though I wouldnt mind a little pompousness (but then only great people deserve pomposness... and I'm not. [Enough with the brackets!])}]) Phew.... where was I? Oh, right. The pain. I have discovered that I can never and will never achieve greatness in my life, cos let's face it, my life doesn't suck.

I mean, all the famous people have had some great tragedy in their life or the other. The great poets... Keats, Shelley, Shakespeare. I'm sure everyone who's ever made it to greatness had some sorrow in life or the other that inspired their greatness. And me, I'm usually a disgustingly cheerful person. I'm happy with life in general. Sure, I have a hot temper. Sure, I like to bitch about people as much as the next person. But please. I'm not languishing over some unrequited love. I'm not mourning my poverty. I'm not concerned about the loss of innocence in the world. I'm not even fricking angry with the Government. At least, not enough. Where do I draw inspiration from? From whence will those noble or elevated thoughts flow? What is to become of me? Of my family and the future generations who will lack an illustrious ancestor.

'Tis a sad, sad situation. I'm never gonna make it big. Fame is not for me. Booooo hooooo! I'm going to live out my whole life in ignominy and annonymity.

Ah, who cares?

Life's good.

So, ha! Take your fame world, and stuff it! I have enough pain about the absense of pain in my life to fill in a blog entry and enough people who don't know me to read it. So, there. After all, fame is but a fickle mistress.... fleeting and temporary. Ignominy would be a much more loyal servant, I'm sure!

2005-12-06T17:34:00.000+05:30

My Crazy-Weird Shakespeare name is: Jaquenetta the Banana Lover.
Take The Crazy-Weird Shakespeare Name Generator today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

Of Men and Knives

2005-12-06T16:43:00.000+05:30

I was sitting at a restaurant the other day and looking around, I spotted this white couple sitting at the next table eating a donut. Now, you might think there’s nothing remarkable or weird about that, but it was seriously weird cos of the way they were eating. I mean, it was a perfectly nice, round, chocolate-covered donut. Rather yummy-looking, actually. And here were these people murdering the poor thing, using a fork and a knife to mangle it. Stabbing with their steely knives as the guy sang, but then they could kill the beast this time. Or rather, the poor harmless beast was already dead.

This led me to ponder on the weird customs that some cultures have… the whole fork-and-knife thing baffles me. I mean, god (if you believe that rumour) has given most people two hands and at least ten fingers. Why not use them for one of the most important (not to mention interesting) functions of life… eating! I mean, it’s a free world, you can wash your hands before eating, if you hold with that strange concept of cleanliness, but holding weirdly shaped sticks to poke and prod at your food—stuff you’re gonna put in your mouth, for pete’s sake!—is a concept that’s beyond me! Oh, and chopsticks are also included in the list.

Ok, maybe I’m being unfair. Not that I care about being fair and all that crap, but maybe you need knives and other such aids to help you eat some things that are awkward to bite into directly. Even I use spoons for ice creams and such. But some people go to the extent of eating stuff like pizza, the abovementioned donuts and even fries with a fork and knife. I mean, come on! These are supposed to be finger food. Look into the not-so-mysterious etymology of the frickin’ phrase… you’re supposed to eat them with your fingers! To use knives and forks for them is the height of fussiness, if you ask me! Even if you don’t ask me, for that matter.

Most times, I’m puzzled by these customs. At other times, I’m just amazed. I mean, watching people eat rice with chopsticks is like a world wonder. I imagine that it must be quite frustrating, though… not being able to shove a mouthful of food into your mouth at one go.

Which reminds me of this terrible, terrible incident that happened to me some years ago. I, the foolish one, once ordered a plate of spaghetti. Being the first time I was having it spaghetti, I was really looking forward to it. I mean, it sounded foreign and delicious enough to whet both my appetite and my curiosity. So, the plate arrives. I’d seen spaghetti before, of course, but… uh! It was dripping with tomato sauce and totally slippery. And the restaurant sent me into battle armed with nothing but a fork! I battled for close to an hour before finishing the darned dish. By the time I was done, the battlefield was a mess, let me tell you. Let’s just say it was not a pretty sight. I still bear the scars of that experience, though the spaghetti and I have come to terms with each other… I promised that I would try other types of pasta thereafter and it agreed to steer clear of me.

Anyway, that’s about it on my latest rant. Meanwhile, I’m getting hungry with all this food talk. I think I’ll go eat some safe finger food.

Oh, I almost forgot my disclaimer… though I don’t know why I need one. I mean, this is my blog! Everyone who knows me knows I’m abrasive and opinionated (I expect to see several comments fervently disagreeing with me on that point) so whoever wants to object can go take a long walk off a steep cliff. So there! No disclaimer for you today, doggie.

The Horror... The Horror

2005-11-25T19:47:00.000+05:30

Well, hello to you, you jobless nitwit loser who's reading my blog! What are you doing here?

Not the most welcoming person, am I? But ha! Why should I be? I'm a crank! Did I pretend to be cheerful? Did I profess any virtues such as kindness and patience? Did I reveal any latent loveable tendencies? Did I not state, quite clearly and firmly, that I am a witchy witch who makes a profession of scaring little children and kicking puppies at the witching hour?! Ah! How the world misunderstands words… how it has unreasonable and quite ridiculous expectations of the best… er… worst of us!

While these and other such profound thoughts run through my noble… that is… ignoble mind, I’m planning quite a nice entry, actually. But the evil side of my takes over and I seem to have poured out my innermost thoughts and resentments. What is the world coming to?

Well, see, here’s the thing. Have you even had a limb cut off? Or, à la The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, perhaps you’re a headless horseman, blundering around on your horse, breaking your non-existent nose on low-hanging branches of trees? Hmmm… what was I saying? Oh yes! Have you…experienced any of the above or other such similar phenomena? Because I have, let me tell you. Three weeks… five hundred and four hours (yes, I used the calculator application on my computer and no, I’m no genius at maths.) For that mind-bogglingly long period of time, I had no access to the 'net. None. Nil. Zero. Nada. Pujiyam. Zero (in french this time). Well, what can I say? I survived.

But what I nearly didn’t survive was the shock of opening my email inbox. I mean, I had expected a fair and respectable accumulation of email. But no, never in a million years two hundred and seventy-bloody-two mails! Yes, I can see the look of mild interest or major boredom turn into that of surprise, astonishment and flabbergast-ment(??), even. But you don’t know the worst of it. (No, you don’t. You don’t because I haven’t revealed it yet. So don’t pretend!) Out of that mess emerged TWO personal mails addressed particularly to yours truly. I mean… the rest were my useless subscriptions to various cartoon strips, word-a-day, joke-a-day and book-discussion groups.

And this set me to thinking… I must’ve been really desperate for some reading material three weeks ago in order to do this to myself and subscribe to these newsletters and stuff! The only bit I like of that was the cartoon strips… my favourite little brat and cat… Calvin and Hobbes and Garfield. They gave me a few laughs.

Well, to cut an even longer story short, I just archived the whole bunch (and if you don’t know what archiving is… poor soul! Get a gmail account…) without reading. What else was I to do?

Hmm…so that’s the story of a really sad and pathetic series of unfortunate events in my life.

Now, begone! Leave! Shoo! Get lost! Git outta here!

2005-11-25T18:31:00.000+05:30

LOL... Calvin... a guy after my own heart!

La la la...hmm hmm, tee dee...

2005-10-12T14:28:00.000+05:30

Drip. Drip. Drip.

No, that’s not the rain. It is, in fact, a dripping shower. It just struck me that I have some sadistic tendencies. Where did that come from?, you say?. Well, lemme tell you…

I would be the first to admit the inadequacy of my vocal talents. That is to say, a diplomat would probably say my voice is…interesting. And everyone knows how diplomatic diplomats are. (Hey! So that’s why they’re called that, huh! They’re diplomatic…hence they’re called…diplomats [or is it the other way around?] Brilliant! Who came up with it?!) And then add that to my penchant for singing in the shower. Well. You get what I’m trying to get at, I see.

And no, it’s not just me. Lots of people sing in the shower, regardless of the torment their voices cause to their fellow creatures outside the hallowed walls of the bathroom. And I wonder… what inspires them to break into song in the bathroom?

Is it the echo? Bathrooms usually echo, you know. Try talking on the phone to someone who is in the loo. Ok, strike that thought out. Yeesh. Anyway… So maybe, by some freakish twist of fate, the singer’s yodeling echoes back and sounds like a sweet melody drifting down from heaven.

Or… is it some residual primitive-caveman-type instinct for singing in the rain? That could be it. They even made a movie about it, didn’t they? So, maybe in a rain-like setting, i.e., the shower, our less civilized and rather primitive, baser instincts take over… and we break into song! I mean, I can really imagine one of my half-chimp forebears coming out of his cave one morning and stumbling across a water-fall and taking his first ever shower. In his great joy, (for he has discovered the great wonder of showers even if not the comforts of indoor plumbing and hot water) he must have started doing some imitation of singing, which then promptly buried itself if his sub-conscious, only to emerge several millennia later with the re-discovery of the luxury of the shower, and yes, this time with indoor plumbing and hot-water! Wow! That sounds like quite a theory… and I’ve even made a load of dingo’s kidney sound like something scientific!

And then there’s the whole issue of the choice of song/tune. Some days, I find myself humming/screeching/yelling/yodeling my favourite tune. Which is quite natural, I assume. But then, there are other days when I suddenly stop mid-way through the shower and realize that I’m actually singing some embarrassing little radio or ad jingle. Which won’t get off my head and horrors of horrors! I’m humming the bleddy thing all through the day, and in college too! And it’s quite embarrassing, lemme tell you, even if you’re only humming it in your head and you know that there’s no one around to hear it but you.

Well, I give up. The reason for both singing and the songs we choose elude me! It is a puzzle that scientists will be baffled by both now and a millennium hence, I am sure.

Random thoughts of an idle mind.

2005-10-12T11:59:00.000+05:30

Drip drip drip. Raining. It's raining. Not as gentle rain doth drop from heaven, to mangle Shakespeare. But quite heavily and windily. This is a good thing, you know, for the following reasons.

A) We poor, cynical, sun-bleached, dried-up Chennai-ites friggin' need it
B) It gives me an excuse to be far from the madding crowd and not brave the jugles of insane humanity flocking to do their shopping during the festival season in this wretched area where I live
C) I can curl up in bed and read!

The last being the best reason, one may be led to wonder what I am doing here, sitting vertical on my chair, moving my fingers for reasons other than to turn the page. Well, I blame it on culture/tradition/religion. (Has anyone noticed I use slashes a lot?? [Off topic, hence the parantheses]) There's the saraswathi pooja going on so I can't read today! No, not even "fiction novels", to quote one of my teachers from school! (as opposed to what, NON-fiction novels?!)

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes...the whole "I can't read" rant. Right.

However, devious little addict that I am, I have other ways. He he he HEEE! (Evil laugh. Thunder and dramatic lightning in background.) I came online of course! There are sure to be a couple of jobless individuals such as myself with whom I can chat on the messenger. Then there are the blogs. Now, I do protest that this was not my intention--the blogging part. The credit for that goes to one of my friends who suggested it. So here I am, typing merrily away and wasting webspace.

Ah! This is the life!

Well, the witching hour draws closer and as I am quite a witchy witch, I shall go scare little children and dogs. Good night and wicked dreams!

My First

2005-10-11T22:25:00.000+05:30

Yay! Thank you, thank you, for all that wonderful applause and effusive enthusiasm. I, Jan, am here to lead you to your salvation from boredom. All right, that's enough applause for now, thanks. Well, here I am. My first blog. My blog the first. Le blog premiere. Ok, ok...I'm just sounding it out. No need to get so impatient.

The weather's perfect for a blog, even if I do say so myself. Come to think of it, why can't I say so myself? Omnipotent as I may seem, let me say this. I am not responisble for this spell of good weather. No, really!

Ah. Now that I am over that spell of conceit, vanity and whate'er you will. Well. The intro to my blog. If you know me, then you will probably have your doubts on my sanity confirmed here. If you don't know me...well! You're in for a treat! Come on into to the dark, mysterious, and dubiously wondrous world of the not-all-there mind.

And let me warn you....anything said in this blog may or may not be my own. So, you can't sue me if I steal miscellaneous jokes/witty remarks/ observations/philosophical statements made by you. Once you have said it in my presence, you lose all your rights over it. It'll be mine, MINE, MINE, MINE!!! See?

Well... Ahem.

As I was saying.... Welcome to my blog. And do be careful, would you? You might wander off somewhere here and lose your way/ yourself/ your mind along the way. And let me warn you... some freakish creature might jump up and bite you if you arent careful.

Other than that, welcome to my blog again and have a nice time!

-Jan

DISCLAIMER: The opinions expressed herein are not necessarily those of my employer, not necessarily mine, and probably not necessary.