Just Because

Well I opened this window to write something nice, but frankly after the crappy day I just had at work, I’m in no mood to write anything that might be remotely decent to read. And with my current quality of writing, well, I don’t even want to try.

In the meantime, I was cleaning my desktop, and found this one pic that I had saved carefully and rather importantly.

You know how Facebook is meant for you to be social? And how your birthday happens to be one day that even the most unpopular person gets a rather large amount of wishes on the site at least? And then you actually try to be socially moral and do the good deed of replying to each wish? Well, apparently if you’re fast enough and efficient enough at it, this is what it means:

Thanks again, for bringing out the real annoying and abusive socialite in me.

Why Mondays Officially Suck

Well, because they do.

And because you’re perpetually hung-over from the weekend. Even though you actually just use the term to sound cool, because in reality you were in bed all weekend, and are simply hung-over from the fact that your muscles had been out of practice and it was just plain difficult to move your fat ass early Monday morning.

Also because you have a hectic and tense work day ahead, except you’re the only one who seems to take it seriously enough to get some work done. And hence there’s no work done.

Also because your land lady decides that the middle of Monday is the best time to go register your lease in the far end of the world. And so you take a half day and head to the far end of the world. And then she decides to not turn up. She also informs you that she will not be turning up the next day, because well, it’s a New Moon day. (At this point I was kind of thinking werewolves and the demure Twilight-y Bella Swan, but something just didn’t fit. Ya, I know. I’m obsessed.) She was also kind enough to say that since Navratri’s coming up, that might be a good time to register. Might.

And then Mondays the day you curiously fall ill in the middle of the day and just can’t figure out what happened.

Monday’s also the day your Blackberry decides to surprise you and starts a little game of hide and seek. This is how it goes: It hides its messenger service, frankly, the one reason you purchased the damned thing to begin with, and you spend the rest of your life seeking it and trying to download a newer version. No, I’m not making this up. My BBM literally just got fed up and disappeared from the face of this planet, or the face of my phone at least. More on that if and when I figure it out.

Mondays suck because you decide to order from Mc Donalds for once, and you realize that unless you follow their happy price menu, your bill happens to be not-so-happiness-inducing.

This is also somewhere around the time when you realize that you have enough expenses coming up to eat into your measly savings, and you start wondering whether there’s still time to ditch the Mooney landlady and head to some homeless shelter with a lower rent.

Monday’s also the day right before Tuesday, which somehow promises to be none-the-better. Because Tuesday is hung-over from Monday and all that went wrong on the fateful day.

Plus, it’s New Moon tomorrow, remember?

And Robert Pattinson, really?!

P.S. But as all my posts recently go, there always is a happy ending. There’s a hug, there’s a song, there’s Simpsons, there’s a lot of food, there’s laughter, and there’s simple happiness. I know, happy me is just plain annoying isn’t it? It’s funny, I think I was a better writer when I was frustrated and sad, wittier too. But frankly my dear, I wouldn’t trade back to what I was even if you offered to hand me the freakin’ Pulitzer Prize!

Midnight Rant

This is the second night in a row that I’m awake way past my bed time. Yesterday I was awake because the lil pinky appeasing pain-killers kind of screwed my sleep cycle and caused me to stay in bed all day, and up all night. The doc said it’s all in my head, to which I told him it’s all in his head, but that didn’t really make any sense, so I paid up and left. Also, I didn’t actually say it, because I didn’t want him to recommend me to a shrink, but you know I completely communicated it to him through eye signals.

And tonight, well, I was awake most of the day, and the pain killers are over (even though the pain is so not, you know, maybe my eye-to-eye communication with the doc isn’t really working too well) so I clearly don’t have that excuse to be awake right now. So, the truth perhaps? Well. There’s too much in my head right now, and it’s almost impossible to sleep till I sort it out. And the simple fact of the matter is that the matter can’t be sorted out, because to sort it out, I need to shout it out to the world, and the only trouble is, that I can’t shout it out to the world, so it’s a funny little circle there that I seem to find myself in at the moment. I would almost describe it as chasing my own tail, but that’s something puppies do. And my nephew. He does that too.

Oh, did I ever tell you guys about my nephew? He’s the cutest little thing in the world. Also a brat, I think. Learnt to pinch me at the age of 10 months. Oh well.

Don't fall for the cute face people, he's just plotting his next mischievous plot!

1 AM. Time to fake a yawn and tell my brain to shut the hell up and sleep.

But then again, I just got a message that made me smile and want to cry out of smiling at the same time.

Life’s good, people.

Of Pinky Woes and Other Things

So here’s one of those completely random disconnected posts that I truly believe one day I shall become the Master and the Queen of (Weirdly the only thing I’m wondering currently is whether Master and Queen should have started with capital M and Q respectively or not, huh?). Actually, to understand the genesis of such posts, the most basic explanation that I can offer at the root of it all is simply that I suddenly think of way too many things to write about, all interesting enough to feature in my head, but not interesting enough to actually stick in my head for an entire post. Whew, that was a long sentence, wasn’t it? But made sense, didn’t it?

Anyhow, my head’s recently been nice enough to point out the tiny little changes that have been taking place in my life. You know, those little changes that some annoying part of your head notices, and you sshhhh it up, because, clearly, that part is demented. So what if I suddenly have a love for shoes, and happen to own a few pretty pairs. And oh well, thanks to my flat mate’s generous donation, I have some rather flowery tops, and well, they’re obviously not black. And well, my room currently has stuffed toys. And some cute red things.  And I like dresses. But hey! That’s called looking good…has nothing to do with changing from being a dude, to well, you know, err…a girl? Oh wait. This blog is currently pink. Which is totally the latest most masculine colour ever. *rolls eyes*

Oh, and talking about pink…you know that farthest little finger that you have…that rather useless thing you never pay attention to? Specially the one on your left hand, unless you’re left-handed, then your right-hand. And if you’re ambidextrous, well, take your pick amigo…Anyway, coming back to the point, what I really wanted to say was, PAY ATTENTION TO THAT LITTLE PINKY! It happens to be rather important. And you happen to notice it only when it’s in a plaster and out of action. Don’t believe me, do you, you cynical fool? Well, you will one day, when it’s gone, and you realize that the hand bidet in the loo happens to be on your left. Or when the zip of your dress goes all the way up in the back, and the only way to zip-unzip is to squirm your way through it and use all the flexibility of both your arms and hands. Now, try it with one hand. Hah! (Sigh, yes, I know, you might want to go and Google ‘bidet’. It’s ok, I’m not going anywhere. And yes, I know, you were probably more intelligent than to buy a dress with a zip at the back. But. Oh. Well.)

My cupboard is rather overflowing right now and begging to be cleaned and organized. Me, the supposedly awesomely organized person, is going to let it beg till Sunday, I think.

Oh, ever played the game of LIFE? I happen to be a fan. But somehow in my version have lost quite a few of those pink and blue pegs signifying people, and hence always end up running rather short of the correct gender by the end of it. Thus enter same-sex marriages. Advanced, my game of LIFE is, I tell you.

Now, I had something else to write about, but somehow in the middle got distracted by someone posting the Twilight – Breaking Dawn trailer on Facebook. For those who haven’t read the books, and those idiots who actually like the series, here’s the summary of this part in not so many kind words: Bella marries vampire. Werewolf angry. Vampire+human go for honeymoon. Vampire regularly breaks the bed, the wall, everything while concentrating on his fun-time during the honeymoon, because well, he’s sooooo strong, and little-human-Bella could be torn and broken into two. But hey, sex is important, so he exercises super mind-over-matter-type-yoga control and ends up breaking everything but her during it. Oh, and of course super vampire sperm impregnates her. And this being a super vampire-human mutant baby grows rather fast, and oh, in the process starts eating Bella from inside, and breaks a few bones kicking around. Awesome sauce, no?

I’m sorry, but that book series just took feminism back quite a few decades. Stephenie Meyer hit the nail so hard on the head that all those wannabe feminists drooled and fainted on the spot. Truth is, I’m no one to judge. I did after all read the whole series, even if I was scorning it throughout (Couldn’t get past the really bad acting in the movies though). But apart from it being my supposed ‘research’ for why the hell girls fall for this book, well, maybe I did enjoy it one tiny little bit somewhere inside. It really makes me wonder. Are all girls by default wired deep in their heads as helpless and clumsy little things that need a sexy vampire to save them and make life worth it? And then we grow up and bury that deep inside and pretend to be all strong and independent and subscribe to the women-of-today type crap?

While in reality, maybe, all we really want in life is our own perfect Edward Cullen.

After all, this blog is pink.

*Groan*

P.S. While I just infuriated the feminist world out there by that last thought, please do note, I’m just pointing out a few hypocrisies in myself. I did almost puke a few times in those books. But I did read all four. *blushes*


P.P.S. Ok, so the blog isn't pink anymore. How long did you expect that one to last now, really?

A Time to Think

Have you ever…

Woken up with a smile?

Realized you’re not alone?

Looked forward to a crappy day?

Acted on impulse?

Given up control?

Been truly happy?

Felt really scared?

Cried out of joy?

Been surrounded by red?

Been bathed by love?

Been taken care of?

Felt protected?

Felt safe?

Put yourself second?

Changed your priorities?

Unconditionally loved?

Gone to sleep with a smile?

Really lived?

The Dilemma of Involuntary Inclusion: Restroom Diaries

If your office/college/hang-out place has a rest room with multiple cubicles, well, read on, because I am very very sure you would have gone through what I am about to list below.

And if your office/college/hang-out place does not have a rest room with multiple cubicles, well, read on, because you opened my blog, and in general like to read me :D

Now the thing with multiple cubicles is, that there is enough roam space free for multiple activities, like chatting on the phone, dressing up or down, gossip with friends, and escape from the world outside. While I have no problems with any of the above, for it is a public loo at the end of the day, it isn’t always the best experience to be caught unawares in the middle of someone else’s innovative techniques of efficiently utilizing the rest room.

Situation 1:

You’re nicely sitting on the toilet seat minding your own sweet business when you hear the door outside open and a gaggle of giggly women enter. And they start to talk. You get up and are about to flush when you just happen to actually listen to a few words they’re talking about. And these are sadly the words that you manage to catch:

“It’s so frustrating….so small…can’t get it up…”

And there’s your sweet lil dilemma. Do you open the door and step out in the middle of the discussion openly declaring that you listened in on her better-half's certain…err…issues? So here's what your decision tree will end up like:

Situation 2:

You walk into the rest room and hear soft sobs coming from one of the cubicles. Now you’re caught up in a weird moral dilemma. Are you supposed to ask her what happened? But, isn’t she in the loo to make sure no one catches her crying? But isn’t she crying loudly in the hope that someone will hear her? Am I a bad human being?!?!

Situation 3:

You walk into the loo to either talk on the phone, gossip, talk about certain err..issues, or cry.

So kids, there’s really just one simple thing to be learnt here.

Use public  rest rooms only for the things they were meant for to begin with.

Because believe you me, everything else is just going to have that one simple result box as can be seen above.

And again, believe you me, not in the good way.

P.S. This is a fiction concocted out of a very fried mind. I haven't yet walked in/out on my boss, client, colleague, boyfriend's ex. But it could happen. You know.

Five truths of my Life

So in the spirit of being truthful and all…here are five things about me that I probably never would have admitted publically before:

1. At the age of 24, I am still…erm, let’s say, wary of the dark. I still leave the light on in the living room when I sleep, and try my level best to not have to leave my bed room in the middle of the night. And if I was in Delhi on a terrace, I am not very proud to admit, my mind still goes back to monkey man. Like, more than once.
2. I love pineapple juice. I love it to the extent that I can almost get myself to type thus: I <3 pineapple juice. There. I used the damned <3
3. My current wardrobe = Van Heusen. Like A=B => B=A. That way. The way I visit three different Van Heusen stores just to make sure I didn’t miss out on any single shirt. Yup. You read right. That way.
4. The story of my hair: They were long. Then it was a boycut. Then an old aunty asked my mom how old her son was. So then they were long. And thick. Then straightened. Almost straightened actually. Burnt to be precise. Kind of like a squirrel’s tail. Then chopped off to get rid of the squirrel’s tail. Then long. Then actual straight. Then chopped off. And then, finally sick of my experiments with truth, I woke up one day with curly wavy hair. Like really wavy. I’m a little scared of my hair now. I’m not sure how angry they are with me. So I’m not sure what they’ll decide to be tomorrow. Moody, them tresses.
5. And finally, the one point which is a huge no-no in this romantic filmy world of ours. The one thing you’re not supposed to say or feel. But here it is… I left the city I spent my entire life in, to come work in Mumbai. So I’m far away from home, from my family, from my existence of twenty years. Like a zillion other people everywhere. What this is supposed to mean is fun, independence, making it on your own in the big bad world…oh the opportunities! The beauty! The wide-eyed wonder! It is all of the above. It’s also gut wrenching fear. I know this sounds cowardly, but I am scared. I’m scared being so far away from my family. Because you know the one amazing thing about your family? Whatever happens, you always have them to go back to. They will still hug you and take you back, and promise you that tomorrow will be a better day, and somewhere deep down actually mean it. They will share your pain and multiply your happiness. And even if it doesn’t always seem that way, even though they might get on your nerves, even though the distance might actually get you closer to them, there is no hidden ulterior motive, apart from the fact that well, they were kind of born into the relationship with no choice :D  And I find it scary. I find it scary that tomorrow, if something goes wrong, if my support system fails, if I suddenly find myself alone, sad, with no brightness in the future, I’ll have an empty home to go back to. I.Am.Shit.Scared.
6. I'm not half the cynic I used to be. Life has a sense of humour. Just that it isn't that apparent to us. But sometimes, once in a while, life does give you a chance. And the pessimist in me struggles each day to survive, as I bludgeon her deeper and deeper into oblivion. Because I'm not giving up. Because there are very few things I want in this world. Truly want. And I will do everything I humanly possibly can, all the way from the last cell in the last bit of bone marrow in my most extreme toe, to make sure I get it.  Because, I believe. 

And yes, I know the heading for this post promised you five truths. But life (with me as its little humour-less helper) just decided to give you a little extra. The pessimist in you should melt a little just for that.

The Beginning

As I sat at my laptop, staring at my final post on my blog, I felt a mixture of emotions… Sadness, at what seemed to be almost the end of an era in some magnified part of my brain…and elation. Elation to be free. Free of all the baggage, of the history, of the past. Free of everyone knowing who I am and where I came from.

And then I spent days staring at my laptop screen, thinking about the way ahead. I realized I could now be anybody. I could have an anonymous blog, I could be whoever I wanted, I could write whatever I wanted, without feeling scared, without being judged, without worrying about society, and worse, friends. The idea was rather appealing, except for one tiny nagging feeling at the back of my head.

If you’ve ever experienced anything nagging at a particular point at the back of your head, well, you know how persistent it can be. After some time, you don’t really have a choice but to shut up and let the point have its say. And boy, did it have a say.

So this was the final decision.

I want to write whatever I want, without feeling scared, without being judged, without worrying about society, and worse, friends.

But I want to be me.

And you know what? I should be able to do all of the above being me.

And that’s what I want this blog to be. Me, stripped down to the core. Me, speaking my mind. Me, being truthful. Me, as I am today, at this very moment. Me, being me.

Because frankly, I kinda like the real me.

I hope you will too.