Thursday, October 28, 2010
Hakuna Matata!
Well, I've been practising too much narcissism these days. This one's for me, and for you too if you like it :-)
(And that one which was originally intended to be posted today languishes in the drafts)
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
O Ye of Little Faith!
“To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible.” - St. Thomas
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Cos you don't need a reason everytime...
"For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends".
[The whole earth is full of His Glory- Isaiah 6:3]
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends".
[The whole earth is full of His Glory- Isaiah 6:3]
Monday, September 27, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Here I raise my Ebenezer; Hither by Thy help I've come
Over many a crescents, cursive letters, painted skies, masonry and earth, lime and gravel, chalk and charcoal, pause and motion, resilience, poesy and blanks, inspiring caffeinated cups, I have grown to be. One morning, I wake up, and without the pain in the solar plexus, the one at least I'd gotten and never told you about. May I mention, I'm no longer surprised. I'm surprised not to be. Between the hands of a ticking clock, a pink turned blue.
And I'm grateful to HIM, Only. Hence the title.
And I'm grateful to HIM, Only. Hence the title.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Outrunning
I you’ve ever done it you’d know. Else you might not know at all. Lately, I have been outrunning, I surmise. Many things. In an attempt to do so, there’ve been outbursts of temper, verbal and non-verbal, (which I need say were solely due to mental happenstances), recoiling into ‘that’ shell, and plain running away. Literally! Yesterday was one such. It gets the trophy for being the God-Knows-What-To-Call-this-day of all God-Knows-What-To-Call-this-days! A lot can happen over coffee. Agreed! Like throwing up too, when cups and cups of Sugarless Coffee is all that you have for the whole day.
Before I could digress, which I am good at, the topic- Outrunning! So what would become of one while trying to do so is what has become of me- a melange of, again God-Knows-What! Quite surprising too how words flow so easily yet there’s no paper in sight to record those. A feeling as though you’re that puzzle fit in with all the wrong pieces. And there you stand not even tangentially touching the circumference. When you even develop a dislike for Coffee and yet look upto it as God, as a panacea for all the pandemonium within and beyond. When you expect to hit the nail and bring the concoction of acids inside to a boil down to what exactly the causal note is. When you succumb to your weakness and liquidate errors. When you wish it rained to wash away all that you feel bad about. (It rained!) When you feel restless and know not what you’re doing. When you want the bubble to burst entirely, never to form again. When whimpering becomes an addiction. When you glance to look at that blue flicker which only turns out to be a mirage, and all blue flickers can’t be THE blue flicker. When you think you’d collapse...
And yet...Yet what? You end the day and wake up to be the same old person, realise that you’ve got to live with all that; Life has no Delete button. You can either choose to strip that cloak of you covering you or live with all its heaviness. The bare essentials of living, day in and day out. Living, I insist and not surviving are, I understood, Faith and Prayer. Everything else stays in place then.
Maybe I’ve been outrunning God too! Back to the erstwhile pace, from here.
Goodbye, I'm on my way!
Before I could digress, which I am good at, the topic- Outrunning! So what would become of one while trying to do so is what has become of me- a melange of, again God-Knows-What! Quite surprising too how words flow so easily yet there’s no paper in sight to record those. A feeling as though you’re that puzzle fit in with all the wrong pieces. And there you stand not even tangentially touching the circumference. When you even develop a dislike for Coffee and yet look upto it as God, as a panacea for all the pandemonium within and beyond. When you expect to hit the nail and bring the concoction of acids inside to a boil down to what exactly the causal note is. When you succumb to your weakness and liquidate errors. When you wish it rained to wash away all that you feel bad about. (It rained!) When you feel restless and know not what you’re doing. When you want the bubble to burst entirely, never to form again. When whimpering becomes an addiction. When you glance to look at that blue flicker which only turns out to be a mirage, and all blue flickers can’t be THE blue flicker. When you think you’d collapse...
And yet...Yet what? You end the day and wake up to be the same old person, realise that you’ve got to live with all that; Life has no Delete button. You can either choose to strip that cloak of you covering you or live with all its heaviness. The bare essentials of living, day in and day out. Living, I insist and not surviving are, I understood, Faith and Prayer. Everything else stays in place then.
Maybe I’ve been outrunning God too! Back to the erstwhile pace, from here.
Goodbye, I'm on my way!
Monday, August 23, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Walking Barefoot
The idea of wearing a tee coloured Purple scared me. Of the T-Shirts I’d picked, I liked the yellow one. The others weren’t too impressive. Never been fond of Pink and Purple (the girly colours as Nivi calls them), never been fond of Barbie dolls, never been fond of the heavily embroidered Clothes or even flowery prints for that matter. Nivi declared I’m a Tomboy, again.
That, I have always been. The primary reason why I’d serious sentiments against one particular college for my PG was that I could never dress up the way the other girls were. With neatly folded dupattas that were pinned, religiously staying put, plaited hair, etc., I knew, in the very first instance I would not be able to cope there. I don’t mean to say I find all this weird, just that I wasn’t used to it. Having come from an all girls school where limits were the ones we’d set for ourselves, having worn pinafore an inch above the knee (insisted), then all girls college, the new place seemed disturbing for me. I am grateful enough for Dad too shared the same sentiments; he’s used to seeing his daughter dear with a Burger in one hand and Cold Coffee in the other, clothed in the most casual attire, yet never compromising on the Bio Technology she was sent to study. A Proud Father, he’d called himself when I’d gotten “The Best Outgoing Student” of the dept. The only and major shock I gave him was I said that I did not like the new college after he’d paid the fees (an astronomical amount which was not refunded)
Nivi’s declaration was on Friday. Since then it has been serious self introspection. The little voice inside me screamed, “Disconnect”, months ago and that I’d obeyed. Turned out, I’d been judgemental. It was, in truth my insecurity, my complex that’d screamed and not the scapegoat original. True that once you get to know yourself better, it only helps you to understand the others better. That way, I was in for a surprise when I got to know how one person who’d been a weird someone, some time, a little while ago, is a not-so-weird someone after all! The self portrayal of this person is quite a contradiction to who she is in real life, I concluded. Insecurities, cultural differences, the-being-orthodox syndrome, the values, the day in day out living, the clichés et al... Maybe I have been portraying myself too, to be something when I’m actually not that, maybe. Maybe.
And this self-introspection so happens to be in time. A year now, and today. Never had the courage to move on, neither share it with anyone. Holding my secrets to myself has become a habit by now. Whether it is the one regarding relationships or the decision to un-relate. Whether it is the sudden spark to colour my hair red or shop for the month’s provision. Whether it is to go out for coffee with friends on weekends or to cook a meal for grandparents. Whether it is alcohol or caffeine, cufflinks and ties or ribbons and lace, rum ice cream or choco-chip cookie, as contradicting these seem, these have been me and somehow seem to fit in. Everything has a memory attached. Sharing somehow feels like having to lose the essence of it, it crumbles and I’d give anything to stop it disintegrating. I’d do anything to have that moment back, the one at the stroke of twelve on august 01, 2009, but I wouldn’t. In all honesty, I can’t.
I can splice so one looks like the other. Else I can choose to let go completely, for which I might have to spend on parting gifts. That bargain I’m smart enough to figure. How long am I going to run is the question. Someday I hope to let go of my insecurity, and this space will be a witness. I will have more to say on that day. This will be a part of life because I choose to walk barefoot. The pinprick is a compulsive muse. It hurts. It’s redemptive. It’s subjective.
And Purple is not for me. A toast to me being indifferent, I surmise.
That, I have always been. The primary reason why I’d serious sentiments against one particular college for my PG was that I could never dress up the way the other girls were. With neatly folded dupattas that were pinned, religiously staying put, plaited hair, etc., I knew, in the very first instance I would not be able to cope there. I don’t mean to say I find all this weird, just that I wasn’t used to it. Having come from an all girls school where limits were the ones we’d set for ourselves, having worn pinafore an inch above the knee (insisted), then all girls college, the new place seemed disturbing for me. I am grateful enough for Dad too shared the same sentiments; he’s used to seeing his daughter dear with a Burger in one hand and Cold Coffee in the other, clothed in the most casual attire, yet never compromising on the Bio Technology she was sent to study. A Proud Father, he’d called himself when I’d gotten “The Best Outgoing Student” of the dept. The only and major shock I gave him was I said that I did not like the new college after he’d paid the fees (an astronomical amount which was not refunded)
Nivi’s declaration was on Friday. Since then it has been serious self introspection. The little voice inside me screamed, “Disconnect”, months ago and that I’d obeyed. Turned out, I’d been judgemental. It was, in truth my insecurity, my complex that’d screamed and not the scapegoat original. True that once you get to know yourself better, it only helps you to understand the others better. That way, I was in for a surprise when I got to know how one person who’d been a weird someone, some time, a little while ago, is a not-so-weird someone after all! The self portrayal of this person is quite a contradiction to who she is in real life, I concluded. Insecurities, cultural differences, the-being-orthodox syndrome, the values, the day in day out living, the clichés et al... Maybe I have been portraying myself too, to be something when I’m actually not that, maybe. Maybe.
And this self-introspection so happens to be in time. A year now, and today. Never had the courage to move on, neither share it with anyone. Holding my secrets to myself has become a habit by now. Whether it is the one regarding relationships or the decision to un-relate. Whether it is the sudden spark to colour my hair red or shop for the month’s provision. Whether it is to go out for coffee with friends on weekends or to cook a meal for grandparents. Whether it is alcohol or caffeine, cufflinks and ties or ribbons and lace, rum ice cream or choco-chip cookie, as contradicting these seem, these have been me and somehow seem to fit in. Everything has a memory attached. Sharing somehow feels like having to lose the essence of it, it crumbles and I’d give anything to stop it disintegrating. I’d do anything to have that moment back, the one at the stroke of twelve on august 01, 2009, but I wouldn’t. In all honesty, I can’t.
I can splice so one looks like the other. Else I can choose to let go completely, for which I might have to spend on parting gifts. That bargain I’m smart enough to figure. How long am I going to run is the question. Someday I hope to let go of my insecurity, and this space will be a witness. I will have more to say on that day. This will be a part of life because I choose to walk barefoot. The pinprick is a compulsive muse. It hurts. It’s redemptive. It’s subjective.
And Purple is not for me. A toast to me being indifferent, I surmise.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Charles Schultz Philosophy : What actually matters in life
The following is the philosophy of Charles Schultz, the creator of the ‘Peanuts’ comic strip. You don’t have to actually answer the questions. Just read straight through, and you’ll get the point.
1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America.
4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade’s worth of World Series winners.
How did you do?
The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday. These are no second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields. But the applause dies. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten. Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners .
Here’s another quiz.
See how you do on this one:
1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with .
Easier?
The lesson:
The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care .
‘Don’t worry about the world coming to an end today.
It’s already tomorrow in Australia.
(Charles Schultz)
1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America.
4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade’s worth of World Series winners.
How did you do?
The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday. These are no second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields. But the applause dies. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten. Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners .
Here’s another quiz.
See how you do on this one:
1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with .
Easier?
The lesson:
The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care .
‘Don’t worry about the world coming to an end today.
It’s already tomorrow in Australia.
(Charles Schultz)
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Perhaps
How long has it been since you’ve felt the urge to write, to pen down something in obedience to the little voice inside you which says, “write”? No. This is not another whine story, neither any propaganda of what may come yet. Perhaps this is an ode to all those fleeting moments of life; to all the chalky residues those that have been left behind. I wish to write in a way that when I trace my fingertips over them, I could, on any day, rest with a self-satisfied smile, and a gratified one that.
Perhaps this is an ode to the poetry that I’ve been gifted with, to be able to write and be written about, to be cherished and held dear.
Perhaps this is an ode to how everything begins at a point, lose its way, and then get back to the same point to re-discover all that’s been lost, however with a change in characters and places.
Perhaps this is an ode to the zephyr that creeps and crawls and thaws the very person who’s taken refuge in the security of the monotony that lets no one else to take the sacred space, yet finds a reincarnation and caves in.
Perhaps this is an ode to the learning and the absurdities that make no sense and then mean the world.
Perhaps this is an ode to the trust that stays strong in silence that can assume, presume, confirm, be denied and yet know what was and still choose to stay silent.
Perhaps this is an ode to the numerous cups of coffee, sugarless, rum cake conversations, post-its, and board pins.
Perhaps this is an ode to the picturesque sunsets- purple, pink, orange and grey that I’ve missed, and yet I don’t take time to mention bout the sunrise. Ironical!
Perhaps this is an ode to the auguries (a smile escapes as I type the word) Auguries- How many and how priceless! A constant wonder that I can never get back in time to claim, reclaim, and yet be assured they’ve been all mine. Far, yet close.
Perhaps this is an ode to all the paltry pleasures of life, that make life, day in and day out, those when reminisced on a sleepless night make the insomnia worthwhile.
Perhaps this is an ode to the not so redundant love and fresh air. Sometimes, all the time (I’d dare say), they’re sufficient to live. Much as I’d like to make mention I’d wanted to be someone, I’m not and cannot be in person and in flesh, but certainly not otherwise. I know that in my bones and everything falls in place.
This is an ode. Perhaps.
Perhaps this is an ode to the poetry that I’ve been gifted with, to be able to write and be written about, to be cherished and held dear.
Perhaps this is an ode to how everything begins at a point, lose its way, and then get back to the same point to re-discover all that’s been lost, however with a change in characters and places.
Perhaps this is an ode to the zephyr that creeps and crawls and thaws the very person who’s taken refuge in the security of the monotony that lets no one else to take the sacred space, yet finds a reincarnation and caves in.
Perhaps this is an ode to the learning and the absurdities that make no sense and then mean the world.
Perhaps this is an ode to the trust that stays strong in silence that can assume, presume, confirm, be denied and yet know what was and still choose to stay silent.
Perhaps this is an ode to the numerous cups of coffee, sugarless, rum cake conversations, post-its, and board pins.
Perhaps this is an ode to the picturesque sunsets- purple, pink, orange and grey that I’ve missed, and yet I don’t take time to mention bout the sunrise. Ironical!
Perhaps this is an ode to the auguries (a smile escapes as I type the word) Auguries- How many and how priceless! A constant wonder that I can never get back in time to claim, reclaim, and yet be assured they’ve been all mine. Far, yet close.
Perhaps this is an ode to all the paltry pleasures of life, that make life, day in and day out, those when reminisced on a sleepless night make the insomnia worthwhile.
Perhaps this is an ode to the not so redundant love and fresh air. Sometimes, all the time (I’d dare say), they’re sufficient to live. Much as I’d like to make mention I’d wanted to be someone, I’m not and cannot be in person and in flesh, but certainly not otherwise. I know that in my bones and everything falls in place.
This is an ode. Perhaps.
Monday, May 31, 2010
A double shot of Coffee!
The dusk stares at my tired face. Sultry, I describe it and frown. It frowns back. “Sultry, I am” it snaps back. Having wanted to avoid the traffic, I take a different route only to realise that congestion is any day better than an unwanted bumping into a certain someone at the signal. Exchange pleasantries, long times, fake smiles all at the traffic signal and finally ride back home at Turtle’s speed.
Nothing, absolutely nothing on mind, and I am quite surprised to know that I can keep my dear mind off thinking too!
Today, however needs some rambling
Act 1: Accept to work Over-Time. Forget my password. Purpose of the day spoilt
Act 2: Due to Act 1, work a little Over Over-Time and freak out!
Act 3: Fake a smile, get caught, and bluff.
Act 4: Walk into Fruit Shop, alone, sip Ice Cold Chocolate, watch people around having fun. (I have always revelled in the thought that I can manage many things on my own, INCLUDING Coffee. As screwed as today was, for the first time, I admit, I’d wanted company. And so bad it felt for I’d thought I’d become stoic after September last, and found that I am not so after all!) *One of the Ten Worst feelings ever
Act 5: I’m tired, a little more than that, actually, snooze, wake up to watch a pair of Albatross’ dance. Heavenly!
Act 6: Cook for myself, forced to eat
Act 7 : Type nonsense on the blog
I declare this day as the most errr...I don’t know.
Nothing, absolutely nothing on mind, and I am quite surprised to know that I can keep my dear mind off thinking too!
Today, however needs some rambling
Act 1: Accept to work Over-Time. Forget my password. Purpose of the day spoilt
Act 2: Due to Act 1, work a little Over Over-Time and freak out!
Act 3: Fake a smile, get caught, and bluff.
Act 4: Walk into Fruit Shop, alone, sip Ice Cold Chocolate, watch people around having fun. (I have always revelled in the thought that I can manage many things on my own, INCLUDING Coffee. As screwed as today was, for the first time, I admit, I’d wanted company. And so bad it felt for I’d thought I’d become stoic after September last, and found that I am not so after all!) *One of the Ten Worst feelings ever
Act 5: I’m tired, a little more than that, actually, snooze, wake up to watch a pair of Albatross’ dance. Heavenly!
Act 6: Cook for myself, forced to eat
Act 7 : Type nonsense on the blog
I declare this day as the most errr...I don’t know.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Bleh!
The focal point of a write need not always be a particular incident; ‘nothing’ could stem a write too! However there should be something accountable and responsible for the same. So, this is attributed to a ‘not-so-busy’ day at work. A sleepless previous night did not, as I’d thought it would, put me off to sleep at office, surprisingly. Off on Monday, Permission on Tuesday have made the week seem a nice one not only because of shortening the span but (also) for the very reason that I was at home (read shopping) on Monday and for half of the next day.
While I was at it I’d come to a few conclusions like T.Nagar stands a fair chance of being nominated as Hell, 4 year olds cannot be convinced as easily, though I crib over not having got that perfect cup of Filter Kaapi, it doesn’t take me too long to realise that Bru is a good substitute as well, and Public transport is not that bad- I can survive on a PTC bus just as well, for more than an hour, mind you.
And a few resolutions like not to take a 4 year old for shopping unless you have a very healthy wallet, never to step out of the house without a bottle of Pureit water, to keep the phone switched off in order to avoid ‘unnecessary calls’, to give T.Nagar a miss, completely; Anna Nagar is good enough.
* It certainly did not feel good to be asked to work on 2 files EOD by a certain someone, who, thanks to Technology, you get to know after signing into FB, has updated her status message as ‘off to the Casino’, while the original reason she’d cited was ‘other work’. However after all that shopping it felt great and blessed to be sitting behind my desk.
* Though I’d gotten annoyed over how the kid tried my patience at every shop we walked into, trust me, I’d still stand by what I’d already said, Shopping for a girl Child is Sheer Joy! Moreso when all you can see in her is a reflection of yourself!
* Sleepless completely! At two in the night, suddenly I smell Petrichor, there’s lightning, and thunder, and I wonder is this really Chennai? A gift, you send, incognito.
* You know it’s Summer when you look at all those full sleeved clothes and ask yourself what on earth made me buy all these and ironically end up wearing the same everytime you go out. (The previous day’s sleeveless Kurta Experience was bad enough)
* Being trusted too much, so much so that five people walk up to you and vent their problems does put you in a queasy state. Gives pleasure as well, but makes you question yourself if you really deserve to be trusted! And then with a wave of the hand discard it. Atleast it doesn’t give you the awkward feeling of having to know that you are the only one sitting inside the Pub with a Strawberry Milkshake in hand! Didn’t someone say you can get drunk on milk too?
While I was at it I’d come to a few conclusions like T.Nagar stands a fair chance of being nominated as Hell, 4 year olds cannot be convinced as easily, though I crib over not having got that perfect cup of Filter Kaapi, it doesn’t take me too long to realise that Bru is a good substitute as well, and Public transport is not that bad- I can survive on a PTC bus just as well, for more than an hour, mind you.
And a few resolutions like not to take a 4 year old for shopping unless you have a very healthy wallet, never to step out of the house without a bottle of Pureit water, to keep the phone switched off in order to avoid ‘unnecessary calls’, to give T.Nagar a miss, completely; Anna Nagar is good enough.
* It certainly did not feel good to be asked to work on 2 files EOD by a certain someone, who, thanks to Technology, you get to know after signing into FB, has updated her status message as ‘off to the Casino’, while the original reason she’d cited was ‘other work’. However after all that shopping it felt great and blessed to be sitting behind my desk.
* Though I’d gotten annoyed over how the kid tried my patience at every shop we walked into, trust me, I’d still stand by what I’d already said, Shopping for a girl Child is Sheer Joy! Moreso when all you can see in her is a reflection of yourself!
* Sleepless completely! At two in the night, suddenly I smell Petrichor, there’s lightning, and thunder, and I wonder is this really Chennai? A gift, you send, incognito.
* You know it’s Summer when you look at all those full sleeved clothes and ask yourself what on earth made me buy all these and ironically end up wearing the same everytime you go out. (The previous day’s sleeveless Kurta Experience was bad enough)
* Being trusted too much, so much so that five people walk up to you and vent their problems does put you in a queasy state. Gives pleasure as well, but makes you question yourself if you really deserve to be trusted! And then with a wave of the hand discard it. Atleast it doesn’t give you the awkward feeling of having to know that you are the only one sitting inside the Pub with a Strawberry Milkshake in hand! Didn’t someone say you can get drunk on milk too?
Sunday, April 25, 2010
HOPE
"HOPE dances in the puddles until the sun comes out again."
(Read it elsewhere, found it worth sharing)
Monday, April 19, 2010
P.S
A busy day ahead, Monday blues, Work, this, that and the rest. Amidst all there's one thought which keeps lingering no matter what.
P.S You're on my mind.
P.S You're on my mind.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Holding with an open palm
All that I could see in the dimly lit space was a silhouette.
The Church looked absolutely splendid after the renovation with its Chandeliers and Cross Lights. So sounded the music-heavenly, majestic, and surreal. It was one evening and night I’d seen stars in an otherwise bright city with its chaotic traffic ripping life out of the nights. And the seat by the window was an added blessing to the aforementioned. In simpler terms, and one word- NOSTALGIA.
A familiar face, a familiar music, and me, acquainting myself to the unfamiliarity of this one moment which I have made a part of me, and all that would remain of me, and would remain me.
At a distance I saw, and all that I could see in the dimly lit space was a silhouette, merging into the darkness, of an Yesterday!
The Church looked absolutely splendid after the renovation with its Chandeliers and Cross Lights. So sounded the music-heavenly, majestic, and surreal. It was one evening and night I’d seen stars in an otherwise bright city with its chaotic traffic ripping life out of the nights. And the seat by the window was an added blessing to the aforementioned. In simpler terms, and one word- NOSTALGIA.
A familiar face, a familiar music, and me, acquainting myself to the unfamiliarity of this one moment which I have made a part of me, and all that would remain of me, and would remain me.
At a distance I saw, and all that I could see in the dimly lit space was a silhouette, merging into the darkness, of an Yesterday!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Therapy
Half past ten in the night, and no food to eat. Stomach feels like a rattling Washing Machine. Blogging for the sake of blogging.
Being re-christened a million times is errr...no fun, I guess, you lose track of all your names (Like your name isn't miserably spelt and pronounced already!) I love WCC's and Loyola's 'calling-out-the-number' system. And thankfully, I'm no 420. Bless the 420s!
I have been known, very infamously though, to send wrong messages. If you know what I mean. Type out one long message with history and geography and how chemistry worked and why Physics didn't and so the resultant biology and send it to the WRONG Person! Crass, sheer crass!
Dude is spelt Dood. Courtesy: Michelle who'd atribute it to someone else! (Spare the Brick Bats, sweeto!)
I am surgically attached to my Lip Balm. To the hands. what did you think? Declaration. But hey, it smells of Cocoa Butter, and is even labelled so. It tastes like ummm, maybe some cocoa butter. Who's tasted all that after all? Okay, I haven't!
And by the previous, I think I have exorcised the Ghost in my Tummy! (with no food and delicious Lip Balm)
Get the smelling salts out! To whomsoever it may concern.
I am a)hungry b)hungry c)hungry
So you know, like.
Does binge-boozing really help?
Aarghhh....this stuff is BEYOND bad!
*shudder* *shudder* *shudder*
Being re-christened a million times is errr...no fun, I guess, you lose track of all your names (Like your name isn't miserably spelt and pronounced already!) I love WCC's and Loyola's 'calling-out-the-number' system. And thankfully, I'm no 420. Bless the 420s!
I have been known, very infamously though, to send wrong messages. If you know what I mean. Type out one long message with history and geography and how chemistry worked and why Physics didn't and so the resultant biology and send it to the WRONG Person! Crass, sheer crass!
Dude is spelt Dood. Courtesy: Michelle who'd atribute it to someone else! (Spare the Brick Bats, sweeto!)
I am surgically attached to my Lip Balm. To the hands. what did you think? Declaration. But hey, it smells of Cocoa Butter, and is even labelled so. It tastes like ummm, maybe some cocoa butter. Who's tasted all that after all? Okay, I haven't!
And by the previous, I think I have exorcised the Ghost in my Tummy! (with no food and delicious Lip Balm)
Get the smelling salts out! To whomsoever it may concern.
I am a)hungry b)hungry c)hungry
So you know, like.
Does binge-boozing really help?
Aarghhh....this stuff is BEYOND bad!
*shudder* *shudder* *shudder*
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The week, Bullet-ed
§ It doesn’t make a big difference to go back and talk to a friend whom you broke up with due to mood swings caused by PMS.
§ Tea and Samosas still taste good over a conversation.
§ Coffee with a friend on a Sunday morning, on the way to meet a professor.
§ Nice talks, appreciation mails.
§ A perfect summer hair cut.
§ Chennai, back to being the good old scorching Madras.
§ Good music.
§ Cooked Dhal and Rotis after a long time. Been cooking Vegetarian food, inadvertently.
§ Unusually elated, reason unknown.
§ Made a friend quit smoking.
§ Resolved not to do shopping for atleast 3-4 months. Conditions apply, however. Should there be any discount, or if someone wants to get me stuff and vice versa, I’d be a religious shopper.
§ Weekend at Thatha’s- a perfect ending to a gruelling week.
§ No alterations. NO ALTERATIONS.
§ This, that, and the rest.
§ Tea and Samosas still taste good over a conversation.
§ Coffee with a friend on a Sunday morning, on the way to meet a professor.
§ Nice talks, appreciation mails.
§ A perfect summer hair cut.
§ Chennai, back to being the good old scorching Madras.
§ Good music.
§ Cooked Dhal and Rotis after a long time. Been cooking Vegetarian food, inadvertently.
§ Unusually elated, reason unknown.
§ Made a friend quit smoking.
§ Resolved not to do shopping for atleast 3-4 months. Conditions apply, however. Should there be any discount, or if someone wants to get me stuff and vice versa, I’d be a religious shopper.
§ Weekend at Thatha’s- a perfect ending to a gruelling week.
§ No alterations. NO ALTERATIONS.
§ This, that, and the rest.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Gratitude for Gratitude’s sake!
Can’t believe I’d stayed away from posting a write for so long in this space, thanks to my busy life.
How did this year begin? Mmmm...it was cloyingly sweet, I guess. And as sweet as ever, I’m here at the end of this month to defibrillate this abandoned blog.
I admit, I’m feeling no better than the last year on the outside, but on the inside, I’m feeling rejuvenated, for apparently no reason.
Over the past 29 days or so, I’ve learnt to look at life from a different angle, from a different perspective. There have been plenty of deletions, and a few additions. Here again I admit, I haven’t broken down the walls completely. But I promise, I’ll, very soon and sooner than I think I would.
I had been talking to a friend about ‘that small voice’ inside which tells you what to do and what not to do. This post is primarily dedicated to that small voice for having led me thus far through unsure times and for having told me to enjoy the beauty of today. It has reminded me to sing, smile, write, trust and love. All over again. If not for anyone else, for me, for the person I am and the person I would be.
I remember that telling me once, “there’s nothing like’ I can’t live without’ “ for even when something’s lost, life would go on. There would be a sacred space that would be left unfilled for some time but when the perfect comes, the imperfect disappears, quoting The Bible.
Thank You, is all that I intend to say.
I’m grateful to God for having slaughtered and still slaughtering the fattened calves for the sake of this one Prodigal Daughter, for having giving me the ability to listen to the sound, amidst the creaky fan, of trains passing by in the stillness of the cold night, telling that the journey is meant for everyone, for friends who I’d love to make mention by their names, but that is too trivial compared to what each one means to me, including those who aren’t with me anymore, for the responsibilities that I’ve been made to shoulder and for the life I’m living.
Pray, I do, that as I go along, I don’t miss out on the most important stuff that makes life worth living, however time consuming and small they might seem, because in the end, I’m sure I would look back and feel grateful for all of that for gratitude’s sake
I’ve so much to brag about that If I do so, I’d be frogging all through.
I’d culminate by saying I haven’t lost the Faith that holds me up today, everyday and makes me say:”This too shall pass”
God Bless and Stay Grateful!
How did this year begin? Mmmm...it was cloyingly sweet, I guess. And as sweet as ever, I’m here at the end of this month to defibrillate this abandoned blog.
I admit, I’m feeling no better than the last year on the outside, but on the inside, I’m feeling rejuvenated, for apparently no reason.
Over the past 29 days or so, I’ve learnt to look at life from a different angle, from a different perspective. There have been plenty of deletions, and a few additions. Here again I admit, I haven’t broken down the walls completely. But I promise, I’ll, very soon and sooner than I think I would.
I had been talking to a friend about ‘that small voice’ inside which tells you what to do and what not to do. This post is primarily dedicated to that small voice for having led me thus far through unsure times and for having told me to enjoy the beauty of today. It has reminded me to sing, smile, write, trust and love. All over again. If not for anyone else, for me, for the person I am and the person I would be.
I remember that telling me once, “there’s nothing like’ I can’t live without’ “ for even when something’s lost, life would go on. There would be a sacred space that would be left unfilled for some time but when the perfect comes, the imperfect disappears, quoting The Bible.
Thank You, is all that I intend to say.
I’m grateful to God for having slaughtered and still slaughtering the fattened calves for the sake of this one Prodigal Daughter, for having giving me the ability to listen to the sound, amidst the creaky fan, of trains passing by in the stillness of the cold night, telling that the journey is meant for everyone, for friends who I’d love to make mention by their names, but that is too trivial compared to what each one means to me, including those who aren’t with me anymore, for the responsibilities that I’ve been made to shoulder and for the life I’m living.
Pray, I do, that as I go along, I don’t miss out on the most important stuff that makes life worth living, however time consuming and small they might seem, because in the end, I’m sure I would look back and feel grateful for all of that for gratitude’s sake
I’ve so much to brag about that If I do so, I’d be frogging all through.
I’d culminate by saying I haven’t lost the Faith that holds me up today, everyday and makes me say:”This too shall pass”
God Bless and Stay Grateful!
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