Once again, it has been a long time since I ranted here. I can't help it, I'm going to blame Twitter for distracting me. For some reason, it's got me more hooked than Facebook. Sometimes, I feel my Facebook page is crying out to me, begging me to update my status, but I guiltily look away and proceed to sharing pictures and wishing people (If it weren't for Facebook, everyone would be pissed at me for forgetting their birthdays).
That's not the only thing that has been distracting me though. I've got another addiction - T.V. shows. Not the mindless Saas-Bahu crap, that is best left to its pathetic audience. My addiction is Dexter, Homeland, and recently, The Big Bang Theory. Needless to say, I've been busy watching episode after episode, leaving me with very little time to write here. I was discussing blogs yesterday when I suddenly remembered I have one of own. And I felt it calling out to me like a little lost child in a fair, calling out to its mommy. So here I am, putting work aside for a bit to connect with my dearly beloved blog and write some of my usual nonsense.
Actually, I do have something important to say. I need to thank someone. The creators of The Big Bang Theory. For creating a character like Sheldon Cooper. The Sheldon Coopers of the world make me feel happy about myself. They make me realise I'm not that deranged after all. Just the other day, I was almost about to fall asleep when my sister asked me, "What is the name of Ron Weasley's favourite Quidditch team?" And without a moment's hesitation, I prompted, "Chudley Cannons." At 12:30 am.
For a moment, I felt proud of my Harry Potter IQ. Then, it struck me. I needed a life. I'm 24 years old, I need to have prompt responses about financial investments or politics or other crap adults talk about. But I don't know shit about all those things. I stopped growing (mentally, not physically. Physically, I add an interesting number of kilos to my ever-widening frame on a yearly basis) a long time ago. Spot me among a group of adults and I'm the one lost in a parallel universe, barely talking, only shaking my head and provding the occasional 'so true' when social decorum requires it. But throw me among a group of kids, adolescents specifically, and I can carry out a lively conversation about things everyone understands.
Again, not my fault. I can't understand numbers, I don't give a fuck about politics and the investment experts can kiss my broke ass. What I do understand is that a world filled with fantasies is way better than reality. What I also understand is that parties are the place to crack a few jokes about the Kardashians, bitch about work and pass filthy comments about people I don't like. My mother's birthday party had her friends discussing relatives in the hospital and death and such other matters that made me drink a little more than I intended to. Good for me, I can maintain sobriety even at my drunken best. Although I should've let my wild side show just a little bit. Would have added some much needed life to the party.
And with this soberly drunken note, I choose to end this post. Not because I'm out of thoughts. Because people are beginning to notice me smiling weirdly at my machine, and if I do that for too long, I'm going to be saddled with work. So Adios, friends and foes. Until next time. Hopefully that's before the year ends.
Dec 20, 2011
Oct 11, 2011
Dear Eddie
This is a poem I wrote for a friend who began sulking just because we played an interesting prank on him. He can be quite the drama queen, so I wrote a poem as an apology.
This poem is dedicated to my personal Google
We’re sorry we pranked you.
Instead we should’ve thanked you
For being such a lovely friend.
For constantly entertaining us
And always advising us.
On you we completely depend.
Oh Eddie forgive us.
Be nice and talk to us.
For what joy can come from being mad?
Our sense of humour is sick.
Our heads are awfully thick.
And we’re sorry we pranked you so bad.
This poem is dedicated to my personal Google
We’re sorry we pranked you.
Instead we should’ve thanked you
For being such a lovely friend.
For constantly entertaining us
And always advising us.
On you we completely depend.
Oh Eddie forgive us.
Be nice and talk to us.
For what joy can come from being mad?
Our sense of humour is sick.
Our heads are awfully thick.
And we’re sorry we pranked you so bad.
Holidays
I love mid-week holidays. I do. I love them more than I love the lasagne at Mocambo's. And I usually plan to do lots on a holiday. And surprise surprise, it never goes as planned.
After working for two years at a place where planning is as important to work as the Bible is to Christians, I should know that I never end up sticking to the damn plan. EVER. Everytime a holiday approaches, I have grand plans of -
1. cleaning my room until it's fit to be a part of the Buckingham Palace
2. going out for a long, lazy lunch, followed by a nice afternoon browsing through books
3. a refreshing nap
4. a walk down Marine Drive
5. catching up with friends
6. watching a movie and
7. visiting the nearest dessert place.
Now this may seem achievable to normal people. But for me, this would require a whole week. I'll tell you why -
On a holiday, I tend to start my day only around noon. There goes the cleaning plan. When you wake up at 12, there is only so much time you can spare to clean your room. All I do is look around the room, carelessly shrug and think to myself, 'it isn't that dirty' and fall back into bed. After what seems like a monstrous effort, I get out and forget all about stepping out for lunch, heading straight to the dining room and gobbling whatever's been cooked. Browsing at bookstores is completely forgotten as I head back to bed for a ridiculously long nap.
Before I know it, the day is almost coming to an end. I wake up around 6 pm, with a massive sleep-induced headache, only to realise that a walk is about to make me feel worse (my medical theories will baffle all practitioners, but they actually work on me). So I stay at home, reading a book I've probably read a 100 times before. Friends can catch up with me via texts or emails; I'm no longer in the mood to step outside my room.
And just like that, the holiday is over. It's time to get back to work. Sleep is no longer my constant companion, it evades me until the wee hours of morning and returns on a holiday. I'm starting to think my brain hates me. Which is why it puts me through crazy bouts of insomnia all through the week, then makes me sleep all day long on a holiday only to make my head hurt worse than a hangover. I think it's revenge for making my brain work overtime, thanks to the ADHD.
Now that I have a 5-day holiday coming up, I'm about to plan realistically - I will visit my parents, laze all day, plop down on the couch and watch TV while my mother happily lectures me on my ever-expanding waistline and engage in pointless arguments with my father. That seems easily achievable, don't you think?
After working for two years at a place where planning is as important to work as the Bible is to Christians, I should know that I never end up sticking to the damn plan. EVER. Everytime a holiday approaches, I have grand plans of -
1. cleaning my room until it's fit to be a part of the Buckingham Palace
2. going out for a long, lazy lunch, followed by a nice afternoon browsing through books
3. a refreshing nap
4. a walk down Marine Drive
5. catching up with friends
6. watching a movie and
7. visiting the nearest dessert place.
Now this may seem achievable to normal people. But for me, this would require a whole week. I'll tell you why -
On a holiday, I tend to start my day only around noon. There goes the cleaning plan. When you wake up at 12, there is only so much time you can spare to clean your room. All I do is look around the room, carelessly shrug and think to myself, 'it isn't that dirty' and fall back into bed. After what seems like a monstrous effort, I get out and forget all about stepping out for lunch, heading straight to the dining room and gobbling whatever's been cooked. Browsing at bookstores is completely forgotten as I head back to bed for a ridiculously long nap.
Before I know it, the day is almost coming to an end. I wake up around 6 pm, with a massive sleep-induced headache, only to realise that a walk is about to make me feel worse (my medical theories will baffle all practitioners, but they actually work on me). So I stay at home, reading a book I've probably read a 100 times before. Friends can catch up with me via texts or emails; I'm no longer in the mood to step outside my room.
And just like that, the holiday is over. It's time to get back to work. Sleep is no longer my constant companion, it evades me until the wee hours of morning and returns on a holiday. I'm starting to think my brain hates me. Which is why it puts me through crazy bouts of insomnia all through the week, then makes me sleep all day long on a holiday only to make my head hurt worse than a hangover. I think it's revenge for making my brain work overtime, thanks to the ADHD.
Now that I have a 5-day holiday coming up, I'm about to plan realistically - I will visit my parents, laze all day, plop down on the couch and watch TV while my mother happily lectures me on my ever-expanding waistline and engage in pointless arguments with my father. That seems easily achievable, don't you think?
Sep 9, 2011
My Dad's on Facebook...
A few months ago, if someone told me that my Dad's going to be using his Facebook account, I would have laughed hysterically. My dad's not the type to update statuses, post pictures, befriend people he knows and so on. Sure, I get some of my 'crazy' genes from him; he is often heard declaring that he will remain '18 till I die'. Not surprising. But the age doesn't really help him improve his technological IQ.
Of course, he knows the basics. But his idea of optimium computer use is probably hours of playing Free Cell. It always amuses me when he discovers a 'new' aspect of the internet. A few years ago, he couldn't quite comprehend why the videos on Youtube would just pause randomly while playing. I explained the 'buffering' idea, and what a conversation it was! He seemed to think it was some kind of miracle! It still amuses me when he calls me up every other day to talk about some new site that he discovered, and I have to burst his little bubble of joy and warn him about internet scams.
If I look at it from a different perspecitve, I see a role-reversal happening. There was a time when I asked questions galore, and Dad patiently answered them (often not very seriously though). I would discover something I thought was unheard of, until my Dad would very sweetly tell me that it had been around for centuries. And now, I update him on the evolving world of technology...not that my knowledge of it is vast and unlimited. To my geek friends, I am a tech-blonde (pardon the stereotypes, I can't always be politically correct). But it's always fun to hear from Dad when he tells me about a new website that he discovered, or some other new thing he learned.
The weirdest though, was when he told me he logged into Facebook. Over a year ago, I helped him create a Facebook profile. I didn't see the dangers of having him on my friend list back then. All I thought was, "Huh! It's not like he's about to check updates on a daily basis'. A year later, he proved me wrong.
I was talking to him the other day when he commented on my profile picture. I stood up with a jolt and wondered how the hell he saw it. Not like I post questionable pictures, just insane ones. The picture we're talking about right now, is me wearing a 'Mickey Ears' hat. No pun intended, but my Dad had fun taking the mickey out of me on that one.
I started asking him if he read any of my updates, and of course, he had. Which means I need to start behaving myself on Facebook now. No more creative abusing. I need to tread lightly. Of course, I can always do that on my blog. He has no clue I have one. I think my lunatic adventures can seek a safe shelter in this space.
Good luck finding this one, Dad :)
Of course, he knows the basics. But his idea of optimium computer use is probably hours of playing Free Cell. It always amuses me when he discovers a 'new' aspect of the internet. A few years ago, he couldn't quite comprehend why the videos on Youtube would just pause randomly while playing. I explained the 'buffering' idea, and what a conversation it was! He seemed to think it was some kind of miracle! It still amuses me when he calls me up every other day to talk about some new site that he discovered, and I have to burst his little bubble of joy and warn him about internet scams.
If I look at it from a different perspecitve, I see a role-reversal happening. There was a time when I asked questions galore, and Dad patiently answered them (often not very seriously though). I would discover something I thought was unheard of, until my Dad would very sweetly tell me that it had been around for centuries. And now, I update him on the evolving world of technology...not that my knowledge of it is vast and unlimited. To my geek friends, I am a tech-blonde (pardon the stereotypes, I can't always be politically correct). But it's always fun to hear from Dad when he tells me about a new website that he discovered, or some other new thing he learned.
The weirdest though, was when he told me he logged into Facebook. Over a year ago, I helped him create a Facebook profile. I didn't see the dangers of having him on my friend list back then. All I thought was, "Huh! It's not like he's about to check updates on a daily basis'. A year later, he proved me wrong.
I was talking to him the other day when he commented on my profile picture. I stood up with a jolt and wondered how the hell he saw it. Not like I post questionable pictures, just insane ones. The picture we're talking about right now, is me wearing a 'Mickey Ears' hat. No pun intended, but my Dad had fun taking the mickey out of me on that one.
I started asking him if he read any of my updates, and of course, he had. Which means I need to start behaving myself on Facebook now. No more creative abusing. I need to tread lightly. Of course, I can always do that on my blog. He has no clue I have one. I think my lunatic adventures can seek a safe shelter in this space.
Good luck finding this one, Dad :)
Aug 27, 2011
Aah, rains!
It's a lovely Saturday afternoon...lovely for those who aren't working. The weather couldn't get any better. It's dark and gloomy and pouring steadily. Call me morbid, but I'd pick the dull, gloomy weather over sunshine any day. That's how much I love the rains. And yet here I am, updating my blog as I pretend to work, instead of splashing around in the puddles made by the rain.
All I long to do right now is go home, tuck in with a steaming mug of adrak chai and my book. I'm reading 'Game of Thrones' right now, and it is really difficult to put that book down!
For now, I'm trying to concentrate on work. I'm not just saying this in case someone from work is reading this article, I genuinely am trying. But there's way too many distractions. The rain outside, for one. And the bacon sandwich on my table. My neighbour, quite correctly labelled as my evil twin. And of course, twitter. I love twitter. I may not tweet that often, but I love reading funny tweets. This doesn't mean I'm cheating on facebook. I still like facebook. Twitter is just a welcome change, and a little more acceptable (read: unheard of) at work.
I've procrastinated enough. I must get back to work, if I want to leave at an acceptable time. Chow, for now.
All I long to do right now is go home, tuck in with a steaming mug of adrak chai and my book. I'm reading 'Game of Thrones' right now, and it is really difficult to put that book down!
For now, I'm trying to concentrate on work. I'm not just saying this in case someone from work is reading this article, I genuinely am trying. But there's way too many distractions. The rain outside, for one. And the bacon sandwich on my table. My neighbour, quite correctly labelled as my evil twin. And of course, twitter. I love twitter. I may not tweet that often, but I love reading funny tweets. This doesn't mean I'm cheating on facebook. I still like facebook. Twitter is just a welcome change, and a little more acceptable (read: unheard of) at work.
I've procrastinated enough. I must get back to work, if I want to leave at an acceptable time. Chow, for now.
Aug 26, 2011
I'm Confused
Isn't it tough, when you gotta choose,
between a slice of cheesecake and gooey chocolate mousse?
When you're late for a party and pulling out your hair,
'cause you just can't figure out what the heck to wear?
When you're at the cash counter and really can't decide,
if those boots will look better in black or tanned hide.
Here's what works for me, it's a simple trick to try,
Just pull out a coin and flip it, before you start to cry.
Confusion makes you crazy, it messes with your head,
It makes you think you're better off without it instead.
But don't you worry, confusion isn't all that strong,
Just flip the coin and choose a side and watch it run along.
My Dear Umbridge
My dear crazy lady,
Why are you so shady?
You seem to be on a war path.
Your acquaintances seem to hate you
Your friends secretly despise you,
You're not considering the aftermath.
But let me tell you this,
you're falling in an abyss
For karma can be a total bitch.
Your evil plan will fail
We'll watch you wail,
And this time, I don't think there's a glitch.
Why are you so shady?
You seem to be on a war path.
Your acquaintances seem to hate you
Your friends secretly despise you,
You're not considering the aftermath.
But let me tell you this,
you're falling in an abyss
For karma can be a total bitch.
Your evil plan will fail
We'll watch you wail,
And this time, I don't think there's a glitch.
Eerily Calm
A lot has happened over the past two months...and it has been enough to push me off the edge into an abyss of insanity. I've been scarily close to a breakdown, I could almost see it happening. And yet, it disturbs me how eerily calm I feel. There's anger in me, some say I'm a volcano ready to erupt. I feel like there is a pot of anger boiling over, and yet, when it comes to letting it out, I just can't seem to do it. I wonder why...
My friends are treading on eggshells around me, and they've admitted to it. Everyone's expecting a breakdown of some sort. I often wonder, should I give in? But something has kept me calm through these turbulent times, and I think I should place my faith in that unknown strength. The calm is scary, but it's comforting.
Shit, I just realised...this sounds way too corny. Stopping now!!!
My friends are treading on eggshells around me, and they've admitted to it. Everyone's expecting a breakdown of some sort. I often wonder, should I give in? But something has kept me calm through these turbulent times, and I think I should place my faith in that unknown strength. The calm is scary, but it's comforting.
Shit, I just realised...this sounds way too corny. Stopping now!!!
Jul 6, 2011
Drunken. Disturbed. Deranged.
It's mental, the title, but I can't figure what else describes the state I’m in. Some say it's scary, I say it's fun. I don't mind the mood swings. The silliest of things will cheer me up during the dullest of moments. Sure these silly things are hard to find on a tough day, but they do appear...just like a bright ray of sunshine every morning. All you have to do is spot it. And that's what matters.
The past few days, weeks, even months, have been a blur. Work has taken over my life. I may say I don't care, but I do. I care more than I should. I care enough to lose sleep over a missing word here and there. I care enough to show up even if I'm feeling sick. I care enough to stay back every single day. Not like it gets in the way. I'd rather slave away than socialise, because I don't have to wear a fake smile and passable clothes for my work date - my beloved computer. I can sulk and grunt and scream at the machine, but it still works for me. Now isn't this the ideal boyfriend!
Let's begin with the drunken bit. I may enjoy the occasional drink or 10, but I'm not an alcoholic. Maybe, mentally. Everyday, I wish I could kick back and have a drink. I can't help but want one, given that my mind is on a roller-coaster ride every single day. By the end of the day, I am so caught up with wracking my brains every 15 minutes, it's difficult to stop. No wonder I'm losing sleep. And hair. I wish it would make me shed some pounds though. All that thinking just make me long for comfort food, and before you know it, a deliciously sinful snack is on my table. Just a snack, no alcohol. That appears on the table when I'm far, far away from work. I dare not be drunk at work, I'm afraid I might say or do something others will regret. I won’t regret it, on the contrary, it'd be nice to get it off my chest :)
There's a disturbed side to every human being. Some hide it carefully, some can't help but show it. I know I'm disturbed when I watch Beauty and the Beast and wonder why Disney promotes bestiality. I know I'm disturbed when I'm having a serious conversation with someone while misinterpreting every other sentence they say and giggling silently over it. But that's just me. I'm sure I have Bipolar Disorder. But it fuels my mind, makes me come up with absurd ideas, and that works for me. A normal life would've killed me by now.
The other day, I was told to 'get more serious'. Had someone said this to me a few years ago, I'd have laughed in their face, flipped the bird and walked out. Things have obviously changed. I thought, why not. Let's give it a shot. So, I dressed more seriously to work. I tried not to abuse. I tried not to joke around with colleagues and focus on my work. You know how it helped? IT DEPRESSED ME!!! I learnt a tough lesson that week - Never ever change yourself just because someone else thinks you aren't good enough. If they can't accept you for the way you are, too bad for them.
I just realised this post sounds abnormally serious. Damn, I have to end this right now. Adios!
The past few days, weeks, even months, have been a blur. Work has taken over my life. I may say I don't care, but I do. I care more than I should. I care enough to lose sleep over a missing word here and there. I care enough to show up even if I'm feeling sick. I care enough to stay back every single day. Not like it gets in the way. I'd rather slave away than socialise, because I don't have to wear a fake smile and passable clothes for my work date - my beloved computer. I can sulk and grunt and scream at the machine, but it still works for me. Now isn't this the ideal boyfriend!
Let's begin with the drunken bit. I may enjoy the occasional drink or 10, but I'm not an alcoholic. Maybe, mentally. Everyday, I wish I could kick back and have a drink. I can't help but want one, given that my mind is on a roller-coaster ride every single day. By the end of the day, I am so caught up with wracking my brains every 15 minutes, it's difficult to stop. No wonder I'm losing sleep. And hair. I wish it would make me shed some pounds though. All that thinking just make me long for comfort food, and before you know it, a deliciously sinful snack is on my table. Just a snack, no alcohol. That appears on the table when I'm far, far away from work. I dare not be drunk at work, I'm afraid I might say or do something others will regret. I won’t regret it, on the contrary, it'd be nice to get it off my chest :)
There's a disturbed side to every human being. Some hide it carefully, some can't help but show it. I know I'm disturbed when I watch Beauty and the Beast and wonder why Disney promotes bestiality. I know I'm disturbed when I'm having a serious conversation with someone while misinterpreting every other sentence they say and giggling silently over it. But that's just me. I'm sure I have Bipolar Disorder. But it fuels my mind, makes me come up with absurd ideas, and that works for me. A normal life would've killed me by now.
The other day, I was told to 'get more serious'. Had someone said this to me a few years ago, I'd have laughed in their face, flipped the bird and walked out. Things have obviously changed. I thought, why not. Let's give it a shot. So, I dressed more seriously to work. I tried not to abuse. I tried not to joke around with colleagues and focus on my work. You know how it helped? IT DEPRESSED ME!!! I learnt a tough lesson that week - Never ever change yourself just because someone else thinks you aren't good enough. If they can't accept you for the way you are, too bad for them.
I just realised this post sounds abnormally serious. Damn, I have to end this right now. Adios!
Mar 2, 2011
Stinkerman
Stinkerman, Stinkerman
Stinks worse than a rotten fish can.
Let's one rip anytime
Makes people wish they were covered in grime.
Smell it? That's stinkermaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnn!!!!!!
Stinks worse than a rotten fish can.
Let's one rip anytime
Makes people wish they were covered in grime.
Smell it? That's stinkermaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnn!!!!!!
Feb 25, 2011
The Buffet Table
My world has become so twisted, it's unbelievable. Gone are the days where I typed furiously on my computer, trying to finish ten things at a time as loud rock kept me company by blaring through my ears. Now the earphones lie sadly in a forgotten corner, hoping to be picked up at some desperate point. Now, what keeps me constant company is the group of lunatics I sit with. Don't be mistaken, I'm a part of this group. Our mission - eat. bray. laugh. And when the shit hits the ceiling, work.
We are called the buffet table. My excuse is - we are a bunch of writers who use our creative minds to the point of exhaustion and we need constant refuelling. None of us opt for healthy food though. Chips, biscuits, chaat as the day progresses. People may laugh as they walk by, but they definitely stop and grab a bite.
I dedicate this post to my beloved buffet table. Had it not been for you, I would still be the writer with the earphones on. I wouldn't have the constant jokes and innuendos to laugh at. Thank you for awakening the insanity. Thank you for giving me a reason to look forward to the dull and boring Mondays. And thank you for making my weight loss plan go down the drain :)
We are called the buffet table. My excuse is - we are a bunch of writers who use our creative minds to the point of exhaustion and we need constant refuelling. None of us opt for healthy food though. Chips, biscuits, chaat as the day progresses. People may laugh as they walk by, but they definitely stop and grab a bite.
I dedicate this post to my beloved buffet table. Had it not been for you, I would still be the writer with the earphones on. I wouldn't have the constant jokes and innuendos to laugh at. Thank you for awakening the insanity. Thank you for giving me a reason to look forward to the dull and boring Mondays. And thank you for making my weight loss plan go down the drain :)
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