Friday, 29 August 2008


Speech is a wonderful gift.
But more often than never it can be a bane in the guise of a boon.
There are so many monstrous villains out in the wild waiting for naive prey and speech is one among the most fearsome.

Now, this requires a bit of imagination –
Every word you speak is a monster – terrible, ugly monster breathing fire. This monster once out of your mouth can go either way:
- It can breathe fire into the person you are addressing, or
- It can turn around and breathe fire back at you.
Every single word is a monster.

I often wonder why parents jump with joy at nonsensical monosyllables mouthed by infants – “Ma”, “Pa”, “Ga”, “Gu”… wtf?
And then it goes on to become “Mama”, “Papa”, “Gaga”, “Gugu”… wtf?
And ultimately it becomes “Get your fucking ass out of my room, you old hag!”...WTF?!

Don’t they realize it is this same gift which made them weep tears of joy today that will make them weep tears of sorrow tomorrow? (sob!)

Actions speak louder than words -
I honestly believe words carve the way for actions.
Without words actions wouldn’t hold their value.
I think Mohammad Ali’s confident words defeated more number of boxers than his boxing skills.
It is all about the way you hold your head high, look straight into the eyes of the opponent, meet the challenge and speak as if there is no tomorrow – this, my friends, is the only solution for a viva you haven’t prepared shit for.

But words can do harm.
Since the tongue is almost always wet it slips quite often.
And a slip of the tongue, well ouch! - can hurt real badly.
Ever wondered how to keep the tongue from slipping?
Well some may say keeping the damn thing dry will avoid the slipping.
– I don’t think that is a reasonable solution though.
Imagine wiping your tongue dry every minute – not only is it disgusting but it is also tiresome.
So the solution is to keep your mouth shut unless it is absolutely mandatory you open it. This means:
1) no mouthing allowed
2) no undue facial expressions allowed
3) no whispering allowed
4) no giggling, whatsoever, allowed
5) no speech without thought allowed
6) And most importantly - stifle the yawns!
This should keep the tongue from slipping unnecessarily.

A slip of the tongue is still tolerable.
What is totally unnerving is a person who talks gibberish
– Blabber mouths I call them.
They just keep on talking without the slightest consideration about the person listening to them. Blabber away about what they did, where they went, when they went, who they met, how they met, why they met, which meeting of theirs was special, why it was special, how it was special, blabber, blabber, blabber.
And then the listener becomes an infant – voicing only monosyllables.

I, for sure, know I will never blabber in my life.
You blabber only when you are desperate.
You are desperate only when you want.
You want only when you think you don’t have.
You think you don’t have only when u meet someone who does.
I haven’t met anyone like that so far.

So don’t blabber and make yourself look desperate.
Think less.
Speak lesser.
Get the message across.
Don’t let the monster turn back and breathe fire at you!
Save yourself.


I like the word ‘misconception’.
It implies its meaning.
According to my dictionary it is a concept which is wrongly perceived
- It is pretty obvious even to the oblivious.

What I like the most about the word is the variety it holds.
There are so many misconceptions in the world – thanks to the increasing number of unenlightened ones (idiots!).

I haven’t cited examples for a while and I miss it
– So here are a few examples of misconceptions:

For the sake of easy understanding of the minimally endowed ones (think - brain), I shall classify misconceptions into three categories – mild, moderate and severe.

Mild misconceptions:

1) You are leading a fruitful life which will ultimately lead to a peaceful and happy life– utter nonsense.

2) He/she is interested in you – undoubtedly this leads to trouble, either way, i.e., whether he/she is or not.

3) He/she is different from the rest – same person, different package, always!

4) Today is the worst day of your life – it gets worse each time.

5) You are better – it is always the worse one who believes so!

Moderate misconceptions:

1) You are in love – no comments.

2) He/she is the one – I really don’t understand how many times ‘the one’ comes along!!!

3) I do not know more than everybody else – I shall clearly state it out to make it easier for you to understand - believe me, I do know more than everybody else. Period

4) You can make a whole lot of difference – (Ha!) Every action has an equal and opposite reaction – Newton’s third law of motion applicable to everything that exists on Earth.

5) When the going gets tough, the tough gets going – Bullshit! When the tough gets going, the going gets tougher!

Severe misconceptions:

1) You know more than I do – this can lead to a life lived in a complete sense of falsehood. Accept enlightenment, accept the truth: sometimes the right path is the easier one.

2) Nowhere does not exist – it does and you will realise it when it is too late.

3) Food makes you grow fat – fat makes you fat, not food. Food is good. Food is bliss. Food should never be accused based on circumstantial evidence.

4) You are significant – there is nothing more insignificant than a couple of humans living in the false notion of significance in an insignificant planet, in an insignificant galaxy, in an insignificant universe – read Douglas Adams’ Hitch hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy for further details.

5) You can live a solitary life – this one cracks me up every single time!! Ha-ha!

Now for the deadliest of all misconceptions:

The misconception about misconceptions revolves around the mere fact that people tend to have the misconception that they are under no misconception at all and that this misconception does not have any influence in their lives – This is a grave misconception.

Thursday, 28 August 2008

Drugged insomniac

I am an insomniac.
And I don’t think being an insomniac or calling myself one is cool.
I am an insomniac - not by choice.

My Insomnia, however, is not the complete inability to sleep.
I usually feel sleepy at six in the morning.
The earliest I have forced myself to sleep during the past six months is at two a.m. because I had to wake up at five a.m.
The latest I have slept is at eleven a.m. after which I woke up at seven p.m.

You might think it is because I don’t try, but I have!
My vain attempts have included:
- having warm milk (eww!)
- having hot water baths
- reading horribly boring books
- counting sheep, monkeys, kangaroos, elephants – everything!
I have tried to sleep harder than any of you can ever imagine!

I have had struggles with Insomnia which are of historical importance.
My battles with Insomnia have many a times put the monster to sleep.
I have defeated Insomnia umpteen number of times.
Unfortunately, Insomnia has defeated me more.
And, here I am, losing an unfair battle but not accepting defeat, longing for victory – longing for blissful sleep.

I have met and shared similar stories of unsuccessful battles against Insomnia with many other insomniacs at odd times. It feels good to have company when you have nothing to do.
But some day they all leave.
They defeat insomnia, forever – unlike me.

What do I do at night?
I don’t do anything.
I sit around and wait for sleep to arrive.
I sometimes lie down and wait for sleep.
Sometimes I talk to other insomniacs and wait for sleep.
Sometimes I stand and wait for sleep.
Basically, I jus wait for sleep.
Wait, wait, wait……

But last night I was drugged!
I can’t figure out who/what it maybe.
I went to sleep at eleven thirty – p.m. not a.m.!!!
I was typing out a post and talking to a fellow insomniac and the next thing I remember is waking up (without an alarm!!) at 7:20 a.m. for my 8:00 a.m. class - Which I generally never attend.

My questions are – was I drugged?
Or was it the post which put me to sleep?
If it was the post, what was it about?
Can I type it out again tonight?
Can I defeat insomnia again tonight?
Will I be able to defeat Insomnia once and for all in this bloody battle which has been going on for far too long?

Bring it on, Insomnia!
I am going to slit your throat and have your blood on my hands tonight!!!
And oh! It sure is going to feel good!

Tuesday, 26 August 2008

Anger management

I am angry.
I don’t usually get angry.
I don’t usually show my anger to people.
I usually get angry at myself.

Today is unusual.

Why I am angry - is not relevant.
Who I am angry at - is totally irrelevant.
How I got angry - is a stupid question.
When I got angry - is a totally stupid question.
Where I got angry – wtf?
What I got angry at - I am not sure myself.
The ‘which’ question doesn’t fit in here because I don't have any (or many) option(s), do I?

Anger is an amazing emotion.

1) It makes you say things you really wanted to say for a long time - but thought inappropriate according to social norms (wtf?).
2) It makes you feel filled to the brim with some sort of 'something' and a minute or two afterwards it just… Poof! bursts spewing foul language, animate limb movements and inhuman facial expressions.
3) It makes you raise your volume higher and higher till it reaches a crescendo where you can’t hear anyone, not even yourself.
4) It makes you want to take a gun and shoot everybody in the head- splattering blood and brain goo (if there is any) everywhere.
5) But what I love the most about anger - it makes you think less and act more.

Anger is innocent.
There is nothing hidden in anger.
It is an emotion which is always best to be expressed in its purest form.
I always make sure I do – that is what anger management is.

I hate people who say the following when I am angry:
1) Cool down – what am I supposed to cool - Their rectal temperature?
2) Relax – I am not undergoing labour here!
3) It is going to be okay – It already is okay!!!
4) SORRY – this definitely needs an explanation.

What are you sorry for?
- Is it for making me angry?
If yes, do not be sorry - I think anger is an amazing emotion.
And you already are too late!
- Is it because you suddenly realized the blunder you have committed which made me angry?
If yes, I would rather have your sorry-ass kicked than hearing your sickening apology.
- Is it because you think sorry will get me back to normal?
If yes, then no - it doesn’t. It makes me angrier!

Please refrain from angering me.
It makes me act weirder than usual.
Not that I mind it, but you might.
So considering your and only your best interests –
Please refrain from angering me.
Thank you.

Monday, 25 August 2008


Many a times in life you decide to be brave and tread the difficult path.
You decide to unleash the brave soldier within yourself.
Almost always the decision makes you want to kill yourself so badly, it hurts in places you never knew you had in you!!!

It was a journey I was so looking forward to.
So much there, so little here – was all I could think.
The only problem was the sex of the fucking ticket.
I mean the gender of the person travelling.
I am a female and the person travelling according to the ticket was two letters short of becoming female; an 'f' and an 'e'.
As a result, after many vain attempts of practising lies and harboring ideas of dressing up as one among the lesser sex (I meant the lesser number of letters), I decided to be brave - to bring forth the unscathed, undeterred and oh so wonderful warrior hidden deep inside me. Wtf?

I decided to travel by the general compartment.
It hurt.
I have never even dreamt of sitting on a metal bar with a few pieces of broken wood on both sides of it about 6 feet above ground level.
But reality offered better.
In addition to sitting on the mentioned ‘haven’, I had the privilege to have a bawling baby and a fisherwoman sit nearer to me than I would ever have them near my enemies.
I sat for sixteen hours hugging my legs, knees under my chin.
I couldn’t move my neck or my right hand for nine hours afterward.
I didn’t want to touch myself because I could feel the millions of bacteria all over each and every millimetre of my body.
I stank.
It hurt.
I don't know what hurt though.
It was not my body.
I was hurt that my belief had ditched me.
I was not wrong about my destination: What I had there was well worth leaving here.
But not worth hurting my belief that being brave is smart.
Being brave is stupid - Almost always.

Love wilts

I am sick and tired of writing about things that make me sick and tired.
Here, I am referring to one and only one belief.
A belief that makes one believe a person is worth more than one's own feelings.
Love leaves bittersweet memories – Wtf?
Bittersweet – Why taste again? Why refer to food?
Because memories left behind by love are very alike that of a humongous breakfast?
Silly, you might think.
Is it?

I am not the owner of a broken heart. My heart is very appropriately pumping blood to all parts of my body.
I do not have any bittersweet (wtf?) memories.
I do not believe in the unbelievable.
I believe that love exists.
I believe love exists in the minds of many.
I am not a pessimist.
I am not a cynic.
I am not here to shatter your dreams made of oh so expensive crystal.
Love - it wilts.

I like the word wilt.
Wilt according to me and not any dictionary means die slowly or fade away.
The word is perfect for love.
I think rather than loved, love and will love; it should be blossom, love and wilt. Wilt reminds me of some dead form of future - maybe because of the word 'will' and the 't' coming in after it.
It is a perfect word - in every sense - for love.

So love wilts - it doesn’t die, it doesn’t commit suicide, it doesn’t last eternally.
It wilts.
It always does - Always.

And so this topic comes to an end.
It dies. It commits suicide.
It does not wilt.

Thursday, 21 August 2008

Love continues...

Simply hilarious
I, for weirder than weird reasons, think my last post was hilarious.

I; of all people dead, alive or stuck somewhere in between; writing about love is simply hilarious.
Romance, love, emotion, drama
– Never been my piece of cake (forget cake, I don’t like cake much)
– It has never been my cup of tea (but since I like black coffee better)
– It has never been my cup of black coffee with sugar.

What is even more hilarious is that it actually makes sense that nobody can seem to make sense out of it. I read the post after typing it out and well, I must say, I pity all you people who have to actually try and make sense out of it.
Life is complex as it is, love makes it more complex and here I am making things even more complex.

Poor Shakespeare – not only was he dragged into the complexity of things, he was actually belittled by me.
I wonder what he did (other than write things I question whether he understood) to deserve such an afterlife.
Sorry Shakespeare, my sincere apologies.

Well the gist of what was written yesterday was this:
Journey's end in lovers meeting - Shakespeare
Love is where life ends
Life ends in nowhere.
Hence, Love is nowhere.

Love is blind - Shakespeare
Love makes us overlook wrongs.
Hence, Love makes us think wrong.

Love is a belief created in a shallow mind in search of happiness.
Love is a belief of well being.
Love makes us sacrifice – even our life.
Hence, Love is where life ends.
Journey's end in lovers meeting - Shakespeare

It leads to the same point it began from.
It can’t be expressed simpler than this by any person dead, alive or stuck somewhere in between.
I give you my word for it.

And finally the question: Is love worth it?
Even a humongous breakfast gives you a feeling of well being (oh! It does!).
And last I heard a humongous breakfast didn’t cause anyone to sacrifice his life – Here; I refer, strictly, only to people who fall within the limits of normality according to social norms – wtf?

Next post is more about love.
And no, I am not in love.
Nobody is allowed to ask me again – nobody!

Love blossoms

Every person dead, alive or stuck somewhere in between has fallen in love.
This is my tribute to that part of everybody’s life which is more often than always misjudged, misused or even misspelt.

This post is exclusively for love blossoming.
The beginning of what ‘many’ call disaster.
Well, I don’t know of any big names among the ‘many’ but I do know many big names among those who disagree with these ‘many’.

Shakespeare wrote: Journey's end in lovers’ meeting.
I always wondered if this was romantic or not.
But now I know – for sure.

(NOTE: If you have not read the previous post this will make absolutely no sense to you.
It will have the same effect as reading utter nonsense.
And in an era such as this, when sense is very often rebuked as nonsense, I will allow no such atrocity to be committed to what I have to say/type out.
So please refrain from reading ahead if you have not read or have not understood or have not been enlightened by the previous post.
Thank you for your co-operation.
Have a nice day, unenlightened one.)

Life is a journey, as I have mentioned before – steps which I am sure lead us to the wonderful nowhere. If the journey of life ended in lovers’ meeting that would mean that love actually leads us to nowhere or rather love is nowhere.

This leads to the one and only conclusion:
Nowhere is utopia and that is where love is;
Love is utopia which is nowhere.

Is that romantic?
I think so.
Romance always has a pinch of tragedy in it (pun intended).
The tragedy here is, of course, that nowhere is not anywhere.

Love blossoms, ah yes! Like a flower it does blossom.
The question is where does it blossom?

Let us begin with: Love is blind.

Ever wondered why Shakespeare wrote in Merchant of Venice: Love is blind?
No offence to Shakespeare - a man I believe understood human emotions in all its worth - but honestly, I do not think he was enlightened enough to realise the connection between nowhere and love, yet he did write something so wonderfully apt that it is being mentioned here.

Did that actually sound like I am greater than Shakespeare?
I certainly hope so.

He writes about how lovers do not see wrongs in themselves when he writes Love is blind.
What wrongs?
What terrible wrongs?
Wrongs that have blossomed in minds – yours, his, and everyone’s but mine.
Our minds which make us believe we are in love.
Love is a belief.
Love is after all, only a belief of well being.
The belief of well being that all fools try so hard to find but do not realize is a terrible wrong of their shallow minds.
Love is a belief that blossoms in your mind, for which you might sacrifice your only journey of life to the wonderful nowhere.
And hence again what Shakespeare wrote:
Journey's end in lovers’ meeting
– The ultimate sacrifice.
Is this game your shallow mind plays on you worth it?
Is it worth the haunting memories and the taunting dreams?
It is after all just a feeling of well being.
A feeling of well being just a humongous breakfast away.

Love shall continue…

Wednesday, 20 August 2008

Going nowhere

Everything was going on as usual until 7:00 pm.
(I wish I could say - then time stood still, but it didn’t – don’t know if my watch stopped working though.)
At 7:01 pm disaster struck.
And believe me; it hasn’t struck so bad for a very, very long time.
It feels like being dumped into a ditch that is under underground and still falling under under underground.

At the end of it all I wish I could get lost.
The solution, as always, appeared staring right at me – almost through me, trying to scare me away, but no – I’m brave! I stared back at it and figured it out. The solution was simple.

Go nowhere.

What if somewhere called nowhere actually existed. It would have been wonderful to get lost in nowhere. But you wouldn’t have to get lost in nowhere because nowhere is actually nowhere.
Nowhere is somewhere that is not anywhere.

That is exactly the place I want to go.
Somewhere that is not anywhere.
I honestly feel if nowhere did exist, it would actually be a very popular tourist spot. Everybody feels like going nowhere when they reach that abominable broken step in life which unfortunately presents itself more often than never.

I wonder where all these steps of life lead to though, maybe they lead to nowhere. I am pretty sure they lead nowhere. That is why life is smarter than us – because it actually leads us nowhere.

But I will outwit life.
Somebody has to do it and I am the best option at hand considering me being the only option at hand.

I will discover nowhere – because I believe nowhere is where utopia is; utopia is nowhere.

P.S.: I still am a person who stays true to her word.
‘Love is coming soon’ doesn’t mean love is the next post.
Love is the next post.

Monday, 18 August 2008


After yesterday’s catastrophic posts I have decided not to decide much anymore. And hence I have not decided or even tried deciding what I am going to type out right now.

Unlike what most great men have claimed I believe that trying too hard makes everything go wrong.

For example:
Imagine - The most gorgeous person you have laid your eyes on happens to want to go out with you…
I agree it is a little difficult to imagine but imagine imagining.

You think so much about the whole date –

What to wear?
What to (ahem) not wear - Controversial.

What to say?
What to totally avoid talking about – Very controversial.

What to do?
What to avoid doing so that you stop yourself from looking like the fool you already are – no comments.

What to think? – Now this is difficult.
What to stop yourself from thinking about… This is even more difficult!

Where to look?
Where to avoid looking – Wtf?

And after all these horrible, monstrous questions run back and forth, back and forth, back and forth a million times in your small little mind you finally end up not knowing what you are actually thinking about. You decide, then revise the decision, then re-revise, then keep on revising till you reach a state of complete decisiveness.
And, that decision, I tell you, is the one that is totally wrong!

So either always act completely against the decision which led you to the state of complete decisiveness or even better would be not deciding at all.
Do not think, do not decide, just act.
Because even if you end up being wrong, you saved that poor, little, small mind of yours from being trampled upon!

P.S.: Love is coming soon.
And believe me; you don’t want to miss out on love.


I am depressed.
My last post had totally depressed the fucking hell out of me.
How can a freaking post have such an effect on a human life – that too the life of an enlightened one?
The mere thought of a depressing post depressing me is depressing.

‘Strictly jokes apart’?
When did that happen?
When did strict come into being and jokes fall apart?
Can you imagine what would be the condition your life would be in if my sense of humour came to a full stop rather than the comma it is in now?
Thank God Almighty it is a comma instead of the full stop - God help you if it came to a full stop because even God wouldn’t be able to help you!
That is the scale of depression I am talking about – a scale beyond the imaginative skills of the lesser ones.
Wait! Was I just blasphemous? Well, if I was it was not entirely intentional.
Not entirely.

And what about the last line – ‘Figure out yours’.
As if you could do that all by yourself. That is supposed to be my job - enlightening you, step by step, baby step by baby step, pre-term baby step by pre-term baby step. And I disclaim all responsibility, wash my hands (with soap) telling you to figure it out yourself.
Poor, helpless souls on the brink of depression - this actually leads me into a state of depressed depression.

Depression being so rampant in this so very depressing world, I have decided not to depress you depressed souls any further with depressing posts because it is very depressing for me to depress you.
So do not be depressed because depression can be very depressing.
The jokes shall come again and they shall never fall apart.

Sunday, 17 August 2008

My best friend

One week since I started this blog, to celebrate it I had a nice breakfast today - again - but no more discussions on breakfast. One was hearty enough.

It took me a while to start typing today. Usually I just start typing meaningless utter bullshit and finally it ends up as a post. But today I couldn’t decide what to type. Finally I almost reached a decision. Almost.

Today it is going to be jokes apart. Strictly all jokes apart.

One of my professors (I can’t seem to remember who) recently told that we should always have seven good friends. Seven friends to whom we keep turning to for help. What, who, which, where, when, how and why. I do not completely agree.
I think we all have six good friends and one best friend.

What is always the first step - The fool’s best friend. It can even be the best friend of ones with auditory impairment. It is the beginning of knowledge.

Who is the best friend of people paying too much heed to worldly matters - gossip queens and kings. This friend is almost always the first step to jealousy, admiration, hatred etc.

Which is the best friend of those who in doubt. It always comes into being when there is more than one option. This friend resolves confusion or at least attempts to.

Where is the best friend for people who know their way about. They always know more than the answer. One who doesn’t know places will never ask where.

When is the best friend of those who think that everything needs to be recorded. Who did what when, who is going to do what when. I thoroughly despise those who fall into this category. They live a farce – a shallow life.

How is the best friend of those who need detail. They want to know every precise bit of an incident. The perfectionists. They have an imagination that needs fodder.

Why - my best friend. This is the wise man’s best friend because only if you know a fact can you explore the reasoning. And only a person possessing a mind free of inhibitions can question the reasoning of everything that exists.

You must always choose your friends carefully.
The best friend, well, it just comes to be the best friend.
Figure out yours.

Saturday, 16 August 2008

Does the date matter?

A couple of my loyal blog visitors have been reminding me about updating my blog for the past two days. One among them even accused me of 'breaking the hearts of the jobless' using the lack of new posts as my weapon. Well, I’m honoured to have such an outstanding position in your hearts - finally the world has started realizing how important it is to be enlightened.
But come on, get a life!

Well, today you are finally going to read lesson no. 3 - So sit up straight, fasten those seat belts (wtf?!) and concentrate...

August 15th, 1947 was my country's Independence Day, quite unlike January 26th, 1950 not really being my country's Republic Day. It is funny how every year we celebrate January 26th as the Republic Day because our freedom fighters decided so. What a farce.

There are so many dates to remember and each year the list keeps growing longer. I gave up a long time back. Now it is more my mobile's responsibility than mine to remember:
1) Who gave birth to whom when
2) Which girl got together with which of her guys when (gender reversible)
3) Which guy got together with which of his guys when (gender, if required, to be changed simultaneously – homosexuality intended)
4) Who got married to whom when
5) Who did not get married to whom when
6) Who died when
7) Who wanted to die when
8) Who lost virginity to whom when
9) Who lied about losing virginity to whom when
10) Who kissed whom when
11) Who broke up with whom when
12) And all the so very 'special days' - Friendship day, Valentines day, Mothers' day, Doctors' day, Fathers' day, Children’s day, Teachers' day.... its endless.

All these stupid, irrelevant dates somebody decided to make important only because they… felt like it.
The point is - it is pointless.
I, from the bottom of my heart feel it leads to an utter waste of time, money, thought process and everything considered valuable in life.

Now the question is, does the bottom of my heart feel?
The bottom most point of my heart should be the apex, which is formed by the left ventricle and the last I heard it doesn't have anything to do with feelings or thoughts - all it does is pump blood to the rest of the body.
So let it be.

Lesson no 3: Do not trust people who fool you with the notion that lesson no 3 is here.

Thursday, 14 August 2008


I have been paranoid all my life - at least ever since I can remember. Maybe this was because I learnt the meaning of paranoia from some stupid TV show early on in life, when I was seven - to be meticulously exact... Yes! Seven and ever since then I love the word paranoid and I have been paranoid.

Being paranoid is kind of cool contrary to the usual beliefs. It can get out of hand at times but mostly it is a work of the imaginative skills in you. Walk into a crowd and I feel people talking about me, discussing every single disturbing detail, almost plotting against me. Everything a person says or does crosses my mind twice:
First, it just crosses my mind... flashes through.
Then, it comes back all the way and crosses my mind again, slower this time. And this time I wonder about the hidden agenda. About what the hidden plot of finally doing harm to me is. About what the person actually meant or didn’t mean or meant to mean or didn’t mean to mean.

Sometimes I get tired of it and just let it be. I mean what is to lose anyway. If they do finally get to me and say, kill me, I am dead. That is about it. Now how much can that matter. Not much to me because I am not going to lose out on anything other than a boring, almost-insignificant life on this insignificant planet of ours. But it might be a great loss to you because the only person who could enlighten you just died. So if you are plotting against me, it is you who you are harming, not me. Little do I care about your well being.
So (please!) stop and think twice, thrice or even a million times before you act else you shall regret forever.

I recently read something about paranoia that made sense. 'Just because you are paranoid doesn't mean they are not out to get you.' Nice. Very nice.

So the question is, are people actually out to get me? Or am I just paranoid? For all those who think I am actually crazy and immediately need help from some crazier-than-me person who is out to empty my pocket – well, maybe you are right. Maybe I am a little eccentric in my thoughts.
But a little paranoia is not always equal to crazy.
Even you have it at times.
Don't deny it.
I accepted it a long time ago, when I was seven - to be meticulously exact.

Wednesday, 13 August 2008

Keeping promises

Since I did mention another post today I thought I should stay true to my word. If I posted this now, as it is, with just one sentence - I would still be staying true to my word. But somehow the whole idea of keeping promises interests me. So I have decided to go on about it.

I feel staying true to your word is quite different from keeping a promise. Staying true to your word means you have to do everything you say - that is very difficult.
For example: if you said, 'I am going to take a leak now' and on the way to your destination/pee-pot met an ex-crush of yours, you have two options:
1) Postpone the peeing and try your luck (which you never seemed to have before) with Mr/ Ms ex-crush - this option would make you one who doesn’t stay true to his/her word.
2) Go ahead to the destination/pee-pot and think of all the wonderful happy endings you just destroyed thanks to staying true to your word.
Or maybe a third option does exist...
You could take the risk of looking like a fool, tell Mr/Ms ex-crush not to move an inch while you go take a leak and be back as soon as humanly (bladder-ly) possible - all this just to stay true to your word. It is difficult and more often than always not worth it.

Keeping a promise, on the other hand, is much simpler - don't make one! You need only refrain from using those terrible cursed words "I promise". Smart alternatives that can be used in response to the question "Do you promise?" include:
Of course
Whatever you say, darling
Hello? I can’t hear you!
The moon looks bigger tonight
The moon looks brighter tonight
Is that a pimple on your face?
Oh my God! I can’t speak. I can’t say a thing! I think I have become dumb! (Use this only if you are lucky enough to be talking to a blonde)
So on and so forth.

I have kept my word. And believe me, that is more difficult than keeping a promise - so... WOW!


If you think this post is going to have lesson no 3 at the end of it I would love to see your face when I laugh at you!

I have never been good at teaching. For being a good teacher, you must be able to express your thoughts on what you know in an understandable manner. The reasons why I am bad (terribly suck) at this are:
1) I'm not very expressive - with words. I have always been the 'show-on-your-face-what-is-on-your-mind' type. And last I heard it didn't help teachers to just show faces.
2) I usually don't have many thoughts to express. I always try hard to keep my thoughts at a bare minimum.
3) I can never talk understandably. My sentences are, always, either too short or too long. The 'too short' sentences don't convey any message and the 'too long' sentences - well, nobody listens till the end.

So, I am glad I don't have to teach for a living. Some (mad) people philosophically state that every person is a teacher and every moment they are teaching someone something (madness). I prefer to believe I have always been the student – it is easier that way, for me and for you.

But all this is not what I wanted to write about - rather type out. What I wanted to write about (type out) has completely slipped my mind. And since I hate thinking about what I was thinking about, I am just going to let it be. I'll figure it out - hopefully (for you) sooner rather than later.

That is all for now. I'll figure out something more to write about today. And NO, lesson no 3 is not due anytime soon. You are not supposed to get used to getting enlightened.

Monday, 11 August 2008

Life - A bitch?

Today was not the best of days. Well, the best of days rarely comes, that is why it is called 'the best'. But today, well, it was not even one of the better days... Actually it was one of the worse days... - Today was a bad day. Period

Well, why it was a bad day requires a lot of thought and it doesn't matter much (not to me anyway). But something someone told me kept bouncing about in my mind - like a ping pong ball bouncing about in a closed, empty room - and it kept coming in and out of focus. Finally, it came into focus long enough for me to figure out what it was.
Life is a bitch.

Why is life a bitch? I mean, why bitch? Why female? Is it because females give birth? Or is it because females are nasty? Do not take me wrong I’m not one who even remotely believes in feminism. But why would anybody have the notion that life was a female. My life might be a female because I am one, but what about all the males out there? Are their lives also bitches? Or are their lives called dogs?
Life is a dog - Doesn’t sound so 'full of some sort of meaning' anymore.

Why is life a bitch, again? I mean, again, why bitch? Why the poor animal which has always been loyal and faithful (and all the wonderful adjectives i can't think of) to man. Is life always loyal and faithful (and all the wonderful adjectives i can't think of) to man? I never felt so. And if you believe so then calling life a bitch would actually be a compliment to life. Being called a bitch or a son of a bitch or a dog would actually be a compliment because the person who called you that actually feels you are loyal and faithful (and all the wonderful adjectives I can't think of).

So lesson no 2: Life is not a bitch - it is a mistake both grammatically (gender) and factually. And next time somebody calls you a bitch or a son of a bitch or a dog, make sure you express your gratitude at being complimented.

Sunday, 10 August 2008

The Beginning- Happy? Satisfied?

I wonder how people begin their blogs.

Frankly, I don't care how they begin because they would be beginning their blogs not mine. And since being different is so much in vogue I should probably give different a try, hoping against hope hopen that I do not end up in the same gutter of situations that others who have tried being different have ended up in, citing a few examples (I love examples):
1) Be ridiculed as being wierd, idiotic, blasphemous etc for going against the social norms (absolutely no clue what these refer to)
2) Try so hard being different that you end up being the same (no comments)
3) Be totally ignored (which I prefer to be)
4) Be unique and truly one of a kind (which I am anyway)

This is how I begin my blog.

Why do people start blogging?
Maybe because they have a lot on their mind... too many thoughts can do funny things to people (I have heard/seen, not experienced though, so this is classified as secondary information) or a more plausible answer would be because they have a lot of time on their hands.
Now, the question is why would they have a lot of time on their hands, all of a sudden. Good question. Three possibilities I can come up with:
1) Maybe they got themselves a 24 hours internet connection they cant think of any fucking way to make 'complete' use of.
2) Maybe they just broke up with their partner and realised they no longer have any friends to hang out with.
3) Maybe they just finished their duties as the college annual magazine editor, making which they fell in love with writing literary pieces full of shit.

Whichever possibility my condition may fall under really doesn't matter. What matters is that you are actually reading this. Imagine that! But on second thought, why would you have to imagine reality?

Today I had a humongous breakfast.
And by humongous I actually mean humongous (unlike most girls). The matter of interest should not be what I had for breakfast but the fact that I reached the brink of true happiness. Heaven, almost! Funny, how a full stomach can make you feel that way, even though you are quite sure you are not a glutton. This world would have been a better place if small things like this made people eternally happy. But the problem with the world (one of many) is the word satisfaction being used interchangeably with happiness.
This is a gross mistake.

A person who is not happy can very well be satisfied because happiness is acquired only after one realises that he/she is satisfied and there is always a brief moment, of life less lived, between the state of complete satisfaction and acquiring happiness - this is the moment I intended.
On the other hand, a person who is happy may be unsatisfied because happiness is oh so addictive that once happy you crave for more and more, which describes being not satisfied.

So lesson no 1: Happiness is not equal to satisfaction which, in short, implies I am going to have a humongous lunch and then maybe a humongous dinner - in pursuit of happiness.
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