tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76587130381585751902024-03-14T06:24:27.312+05:30Too much too little"Perhaps we are each allotted only a certain amount of love- enough for only an initial meeting- a serendipitous clumsiness." Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-47184301356139599582014-06-10T17:06:00.003+05:302014-06-10T17:08:14.043+05:30Men and Myopia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">The thing with being in love is that you become the most annoying person ever. Especially if you're a girl. Your uncalled for, eternally sunny disposition can be of gross irritation to an entire nation and its populace. But see, being in love, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">especially falling in love</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">, is the best, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">most blinding feeling</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;"> in the world. It doesn't matter who thinks what, as long as the apple of your affection is twinkling away at you. It makes you ecstatic, but also seriously myopic. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The leading cause of my myopia is Funny Men. Let me explain-</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I was watching Louis CK the other night and he's, MY GOD, such a riot! My insides were instinctively curling with want. Imagine a man who can make me laugh all day; why wouldn't any woman want that. I proceeded, in my usual obsessive gusto, to look him up online. Somewhere among lots of videos and text, here is what I found him say, "Marriage is just a larva stage to true happiness- which is divorce!" Followed by lots of laughs I'll admit, some even awkward, and sure I'll consider it very talented writing- merely a script, but it suddenly made me realise why I'd sworn off the funny boys and their stupid funny bones. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Funny guys are my cryptonite. Or have become, I have come to realise. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Take the desi-type-funny guy I dated when I was 21. Or the subtle-but-hilariously-funny guy I dated when I was 23. Or the whiny-funny guy when I was 27. They have two things in common. They were funny. And they were seriously immature. Like a special kind of immature (<i>read escapist</i>) that deserves a brand new adjective to describe it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FunnyGuy #1: Having lived in the south of India most of my life, my exposure to real-life people who could tell really great jokes in Hindi was limited. Very limited. I met him through work, and I admit I kind of didn't like him too much when I first met him. Actually, scratch that. I kind of hated him. He was new levels of difficult to work with. Never answering my calls, never following up on anything he was supposed to follow up on, disappearing at important times. That should seem like a great, big SIGNBOARD in my face, right? STAY AWAY. ESCAPIST AHEAD. But err, no, no. Myopic remember? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I hung out with him, dated him, and laughed a lot. A LOT. Until one night, he decided to get wasted, and confess to me that he was in love with me. The words came out of HIS mouth. And yet I found that it was only barely ironic-funny when he immediately put on his running shoes (metaphorically obviously), and sprinted out of my life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FunnyGuy #2: Eerrrmmmaaagawd, so damned witty. He was Chandler-meets-Jeeves-meets...<wbr></wbr>well, I don't know who. But man, he was funny. He took my breath away. He also knocked the air out of me when after three years of fabulously entertaining laughs, he ran for the hills for no real reason. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Literally. Ha ha.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Guess that sounds funny. But isn't.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FunnyGuy #3: This one is my fault entirely, but in my defense, it was kind of trial-basis- like an outfit I was trying on. He was so slapstick, and I don't even like slapstick, but others did, so I thought I'd swing it. Try it on, y'know? He was just <i>so</i> funny with his 24/7 whiny, disgruntled jokes. But three weeks into it, his whining-funny suddenly seemed to take on dementor-like qualities. He sucked the sunshine out of the world. As if, god forbid, something nice should happen to him- his world would end, wouldn't it? I was out of there as soon as I could find an exit sign. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Truth is, I still haven't gotten over my Love-Funny-Guys myopia, and I will admit I'm still looking for that perfectly funny-but-mature guy combination. But hopefully in the meanwhile, I can find myself some thick glasses to repair my vision. A knock on the head will also help.</span></div>
</div>
Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-69979891628239553792014-03-11T02:14:00.000+05:302014-03-11T16:02:33.684+05:30Another Me, Another You.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Will you ever find another me if I ever leave you?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Will I ever find another you?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They say there are several Mes in the</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Seven billion of us,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">With our world full of differences.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Different Yous, and different Mes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Maybe there are two of us each,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Or maybe four?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Will I bump into you in Hungary,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In Budapest,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">On Sale Day, looking for a carved wooden table,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That we both put our hands on at the same time?</span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Maybe I’ll bump into you in New York,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In a jazz bar because we both like</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Georgia,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The song, not the place.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Or perhaps I’ll see you on the Internet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">On a dating website,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">While I’m still with you,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">While you’re still sleeping in our bed,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Your hands on the book I’m reading,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Your book lying next to me while I look for another you,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In a parallel universe.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Will we be happier with each other’s</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Other Me and You?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Will you be happier if you had me without me.</span></div>
</div>
Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-89694183968624182832014-02-28T18:34:00.000+05:302014-02-28T19:36:52.196+05:30Warming My Cold Feet.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">See the thing about fear is that it can seem bigger than
you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">What’s funny is that most fears actually start as tiny
little thoughts. Minor what-ifs, really. They sit there, festering and
gestating, coming and going, becoming bigger, asking for more attention and
whining if you don’t give them any. Far from giving them attention, we ignore
them. Ask them to bugger off and come another day.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And yoohoo, they do. At which point, we have the audacity to
actually be surprised. We expect the <i>another
day</i>, to be an <i>other</i> day that is
not today. We act petulant. We keep asking the fear to go away, until such a
time as when it becomes louder and more demanding, and then we try to negotiate
with it about its it next ETA. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Like a deadline that we’ve forgotten, we’re astounded,
annoyed, and frustrated when it shows up again. We then try to actively, and
rather stupidly, run away from it. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Stupid, I say, because the one thing that we cannot do (and
yet, most of us do do), is run away from anything in our own minds. The longer
we run from it, or hide it under our beds, the bigger the imaginary monster
gets. It grows in size, new and shiny claws pop out, and if you leave it
unattended long enough, it starts to speak in strange, scary tongues, with
added spooky background music for effect.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I had one of these
episodes recently. Mine was called Cold Feet (here on referred to as CF).
Unlike the most well-known type of CF (the wedding bells variety), this one was
rather unusual, and therefore one that I took time to recognize. You see, quite
contrary to the wedding bells variety, where you’re shitting bricks about
committing your whole life to someone and wondering if you’re making the right
decision, my CF was my fear of committing to myself.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Surprised? Yeah, me too. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Here’s the story of my CF—<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A couple of months ago, I finally decided to do the thing
I’ve been thinking about doing for a while now— live by myself. I had been
running around house to house, broker to broker, landlord to landlord, on my new-house
hunting expedition. I had done this before, but the difference this time, was that
I had to do it all by myself. As I’ve outlined in this post, I’ve always had a
problem doing anything by myself (or rather, <i>without</i> company—which if you really think about it, is a different
kind of problem, really).<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">When I started this, I wasn’t sure if I was looking for the
right things in these houses, or if I had been talking to the right people, or
making the right decisions. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to answer the
preposterous questions that landlords ask you.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(Example1: Why does a
single girl in Bombay want to live alone? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Example 2: Will you have many parties in the house? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Example 3: Will you get married and move away soon, you
think?).<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I also wasn’t sure if I would know how to pick the right
refrigerator, or know if I got duped while getting the carpenter to do some
minor repairs (actually, this one I still don’t have answers to).<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I was just beginning to realize what I’d taken on.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It hit me, full scale, one morning a few days before I was
to move in. I was supposed to meet the landlordman that evening to give him 11
post-dated cheques, and sign a contract with ONLY my name on it (how adult is
that!).<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And hence came the full descent of the CF. Because, dear
god, will I be able to, or more importantly— do I really <i>want</i> to do this! ALL.BY.MYSELF!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Eating by myself, cooking myself, handing all
responsibilities- big and small- BY.MYSELF. And the worst of them all, SLEEPING
all by myself in a house. Oh, the horror!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I’m feeling hot and cold even as I write this (a watered
down version compared to that day, I’m pleased to report).<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But here’s what I did to battle my CF (it was the plan for
today anyway. I believe in baby steps)— I wrote. I wrote about how this felt. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">As I wrote it, I felt like I was, in part, conquering my
fear. Or rather, telling it, that it’s silly, by doing something that reminds
me of why I’m doing this at all. I was reminding me of the good stuff. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I sat by myself in an empty apartment with a suitcase full
of books (it was the first and only thing I brought there that evening :) ),
and my laptop, and I typed away in a silent house. I listened to the trees
rustling outside, felt the wind come in (I have HUGE windows in my living room,
whee!), and <i>reveled</i> in the sound of
the tippy-tap of the keyboard.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I realized that this was one of the things I’ve wanted for
the last few months. Nay, this is what I’ve <i>craved</i>
for. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I’ve wanted silence. I’ve wanted just me. I’ve wanted my
words, and my very own world. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And so here’s the conclusion to my theory on fears— you don’t
banish them, and you don’t even need a grand plan to conquer them. Instead,
what would maybe work, is to just show them the good stuff. Tell them that
while they are very much real, so is the good stuff. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<img src="http://www.diabetesmine.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/Cold-Feet.jpg" /><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-50881506008960518362014-01-13T21:20:00.006+05:302014-01-13T21:24:44.987+05:30The Problem Is<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The problem is, always was, that I loved you too much. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They told me. Everyone told me. To not do that. To never
love you like that. But see, I didn’t see it. All I could see was you. You were
a high. Something I could sniff when my day went south. Something I could
inject to make my day go north. Something I could wake up to, with a feeling of
elation. The feeling that I had done something right. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And the problem is, always was, that you played the part. To
the T. You danced and pranced for me. You made me laugh. You made me cry, just
enough to consider you an achievement. You made me feel like I was the only
thing you lived for. You made me feel like a million bucks was tepid in front
of me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They told us. Everyone told us. To not to that. We may never
stop loving each other, but what if we lost each other? What if something
happened to either one of us? How would either of us get through it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Well, you showed me how, didn’t you. You disappeared. You
left me with a faith that I couldn't practice anymore. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The problem is, always was, that which they <i>didn’t</i> tell me. They told me not to love
you like that, but what they should have been telling me is this – love yourself
more. So that at least this way, when you’re gone I will still have had something left to love.</span></div>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-38568646563459097552013-08-23T12:53:00.004+05:302013-08-23T13:14:37.665+05:30Fear of being a woman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Late last night, I was out at a friend’s gig, when I heard
someone somewhere around me say ‘another rape, man; this time in Bombay’. I
rolled my eyes and thought, ‘not again,’ and ignored it. I didn’t pause to find
out more, I didn’t even pause to give it more than that first thought. As quickly as I could, I
threw it out of my head. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This morning, on my way to work, I looked at my twitter timeline that was flooded with news of the #mumbaigangrape and as I read and read, I
cried and cried. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I cried because I felt that girl’s pain (even if it was a fraction of it). I cried because I felt her fear. I cried because I felt MY
fear. And I cried because I was ashamed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I was ashamed that I hadn’t paid that comment last night any
attention. I was ashamed because I threw away the thought that entered my mind.
I was ashamed because I couldn’t even swallow or acknowledge what had happened.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I’ll tell you why I did it though- discarded the mention of
that rape- no, it wasn't because I've become numb or indifferent. It was because if and when I let it sink in, the fear that goes down my
spine is almost unbearable. It makes me want to go back in time to my mother’s
womb, when they still hadn't figured out what my sex was. It makes me want to never do anything
again. Never step out of the house, never dream, never dare to live. Because
being a woman in this country, and to a large extent, in this world, is a
curse. It’s one of those things that you just have to live with. As is the constant
fear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I ask my male friends, colleagues- do you know what it feels
like? Most say ‘I’m sure it’s terrible,’ and make <i>tsk tsk</i> sympathetic noises (no disrespect to them). And some others
honestly tell me with sadness in their eyes, that no, they can’t imagine what
it feels like.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Well, I’ll tell you what it could feel like- it’s like
walking in a lone street, in a strange country, where no one understands you or
speaks your language, with your passport, your money and all that you consider
yours in the middle of the night. All senses heightened, alert, knowing that
you have to be extra careful until morning comes, and it’s safe again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That’s what it feels like ALL the time for women. Except
that there is no <i>when morning comes.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We’re expected to be careful at all times. We’re expected,
and do, watch our back at all times. Our sixth senses are on high alert, our
eyes constantly making sure it’s taking in everything it possibly can in, and
around, our periphery. Making sure there is nothing, and no man waiting to
pounce at you, from the corner or from right out in front of you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It’s so exhausting. It’s so nervewrecking. It’s disgusting, and
depressing. </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You put us on a pedestal and then drag us down. You make us
the symbols of human future- the holy bearers of generations to come. And then
you want to show us that in fact, you’re the one with the power- If you put us
on that pedestal, then you can drag us down. You feel compelled almost, to
prove to us that you’re superior. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I’m sick of it. Don’t put me on a pedestal. If I could give
you my child bearing capacities, I would. If I could give you the empathy and
the skill I have to bring up and nurture your children to carry forward <i>your</i> name into the future, I would. I’ll
put you on the highest pedestal there is if you will leave me alone. I’ll put
you on that pedestal if all that matters to you is that you come out glorious,
more powerful and superior. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Please don’t glorify me, I beg you. Don’t call me holy, don’t
think I’m better than you. I don’t want to live in constant fear of you raping
me, taking away the only thing that <i>you</i> think will strip me naked and put me in
my place. </span></div>
</div>
Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-5597194157179894902013-07-25T19:19:00.000+05:302013-07-25T19:20:28.499+05:30Ten things I’m terrified of in my 20s.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There are so many lists out there talking about the fabulous 20s, the puzzling 20s, and what have you. So I figured what’s one more. But this one’s about things that terrify me in my 20s about my future life.</span></span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-7ea6680a-1614-9e6d-cb91-2a89f89163bd" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">1. I’m terrified that I’m losing out on time. Like the 20s are supposed to the best years- the ‘golden period’ if you must- where I’m paving, paving, paving the path for my soon to be illustrious future. And if don’t pave fast enough, I’ll never make that road, and then suddenly I’m 30 and then what will I walk on, omigod, I’ll be totally lost, and Omfg, omfg. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">2. I’m terrified I’ll never live that travel dream I’ve dreamt of. People say travel young, travel young. And I’m terrified I’m making and saving all this money in my 20s only (not making that much money, actually) to forget the travel dream I had for later. I’m scared I’ll get caught up with other things like marriage, making money, and career paths.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">3. Which brings me to... my career. I’m terrified I’ll never have the balls to do what I really want to do. I’m scared I’ll keep using the 20s to dream, dream, dream, stalling till the 30s, to do the ‘real thing I want to do’, and all that will end up being a sham because ‘logic’ ‘logistics’ or ‘reality’ will set in.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">4. I’m scared that as I leave my 20s, I’ll become the person I always scoffed at- the person that always knows everything. That super closed minded person that probably thinks I’m a hippie, but he really, was the loser that lacked imagination. I’m terrified I’ll grow older to become that fool.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">5. I’m terrified that post my 20s, I’ll want more, but in the most limited way possible. That my lists will grow longer, but only because they’re growing tighter. ‘I want my man to be a funny, non-smoking, open minded, non chauvinistic, scuba diving banker from an exotic country, who is generous and spoils me rotten, but also respects my independence...’ Or whatever, you know? </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">6. I’ve already noticed a lack of risk taking between now and when I was 17, so what’s to say I won’t become a paranoid person post my 20s, who’s like, ‘oh I don’t want to cycle through this gorgeous park because you know, I might fall and scrape my knee and it’ll be hurt for a whole week and the scab will be so ugly..’. You get the drift.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">7. While I’m aware of the fact that I’m getting older, I’m acutely aware of the fact that my parents are getting older too. It almost seems like the minute I turn thirty, I’ll have to start giving serious thought to how to take care of them and make sure they’re okay. The thing about this is that, I’m not sure I’m ready to ‘take care’ of anyone, much less my beautiful parents, who I’ve constantly relied on for guidance and support. The thought of that role reversing is scary, more so because I’m terrified I might not not be as good at taking care of them as they have done for me.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">8. I’m terrified I’ll always be selfish. So, this one is a little different- I’m terrified of something I am right now, that I really want to shed, and I think I may not be able to.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">9. On the whole, I’m terrified of my entire identity changing when I’m not paying attention. I know it’s silly (which part of this paranoid list, isn’t?). Some people say we all evolve every 7 years; that if you look back seven years earlier, you’ll realise you were completely different. Still, I’m terrified of my identity changing and not having control over it.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">10. Most of all, I’m terrified that the 20s might wear me down. That the disappointment I might face in this decade might make me cynical. Worse, it might cause me to settle, settle for less. And become that person that only lives from car loans to house loans, paying EMIs on everything I own and touch. Living a perfectly staid life, one that no one will remember. Not even me, when I look back at it. One in which I wouldn’t have realised my potential. One in which I’m just sheep. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The thing is though, I’m glad I’m terrified of all these things. Because that means I’ll try my damned hardest to focus on what I’ve dreamt for myself and avoid settling for anything else. I might change my mind, and I might change some of my priorities. But if I manage to retain my love for life and never settle for anything less than what I dreamed of as a child, a time when my dreams where the least diluted, then I think I’m sorted.</span></span><br />
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-17085354176893547022013-07-25T13:27:00.002+05:302013-07-25T13:37:25.912+05:30Catalogue #talesofacat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Here's picture story for a change. Below is my little Kittle in all his flamboyance, and fame.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We've had him for 5 months now, having rescued him from the streets (bless the power of twitter). He came to us as a Valentine's Day gift and what a little crazy gift he's been.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">This is two month old kittle, when he first came to us. Funny story insert- we were told he was female. We named the poor bugger Ella and called him 'elegant' 'lady-like', and 'beautiful'. Two weeks into it, a visit to the vet and we had come back broken-hearted that we had to rename him (I love that name, Ella). He's now Garfunkle aka Garfy, and hopefully the awful memory of the two week gender confusion doesn't haunt him forever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Garfy's obsession with teabags. I'm pretty sure one day when we're cleaning the nook and corners of the house we'll find Garfy's personal storage of these (ew!).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">He's a lap-claiming, roaring like a lion (not), poser cat (more posu photos to follow- he fancies himself a model I'm sure).</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-_XthxNnpFiQ9gy2ZePrHJOS9YgAxvC4sxHO6-j5wQZrak0BV324NkRGuGBcvkJ60JCozwThfGKAJwbiaoXDPbOpzAwdXE1zmqnSDNFiVcQE60h0iRlMhK5wsqPasNm7I5pT_fqnAew/s1600/IMG_1812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-_XthxNnpFiQ9gy2ZePrHJOS9YgAxvC4sxHO6-j5wQZrak0BV324NkRGuGBcvkJ60JCozwThfGKAJwbiaoXDPbOpzAwdXE1zmqnSDNFiVcQE60h0iRlMhK5wsqPasNm7I5pT_fqnAew/s320/IMG_1812.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It's almost like he's asking to be photogrpahed. He has these photo faces, just ready, pouting even.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">We watch shows on my laptop together, my Kittle and I. And he still fits in my palm- he's a chipku one this fella. One of the friendliest fellas I met. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Sometimes I'm convinced he's a dog- he rolls around like one and begs for food, and is destructive around the house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Sometimes I wonder if he's human- look at the way he's claimed my favourite beer chair.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">And this is how I know he belongs with me :D</span></div>
Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-7955256534754006072013-07-11T14:28:00.000+05:302013-07-11T16:07:14.795+05:3025 Wise Life-Learnings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I recently found read some pretty cool 'Life Learnings' that made me smile, smirk, and sad in equal measures. I found myself nodding and agreeing with most everything, but here are the ones that hit home hard. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Btw, I found this from <a href="http://www.raptitude.com/" target="_blank">a really cool website</a>. Some of the stuff in there is worth the read. Especially if, like me, you're one of those introspective (read over-analy-zy) types!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>It is a hundred times more difficult to burn calories than to refrain from consuming them in the first place.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>The cheapest and most expensive models are usually both bad deals.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>A good nine out of ten bad things I’ve worried about never happened. A good nine out of ten bad things that did happen never occurred to me to worry about.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>When you break promises to yourself, you feel terrible. When you make a habit of it, you begin to hate yourself.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>You can’t change other people, and it’s rude to try.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>If everyone in the TV show you’re watching is good-looking, it’s not worth watching.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Whenever you’re worried about what others will think of you, you’re really just worried about what you’ll think of you.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>If you never doubt your beliefs, then you’re wrong a lot.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Nobody has it all figured out.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Whenever you hate something, it hates you back: people, situations and inanimate objects alike.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>People embellish everything, as a rule.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Putting something off makes it instantly harder and scarier.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Nobody knows more than a minuscule fraction of what’s going on in the world. It’s just way too big for any one person to know it well.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Everyone you meet is better than you at something.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Knowledge is belief, nothing more.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>There are not enough women in positions of power. The world has suffered from this deficit for a long time.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>What makes human beings different from animals is that animals can be themselves with ease.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>If you aren’t happy single, you won’t be happy in a relationship.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>“Gut feeling” is not just a euphemism. Tension in the abdomen speaks volumes about how you truly feel about something, beyond all arguments and rationales.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>It’s easy to make someone’s day just by being uncommonly pleasant to them</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Nothing — ever — happens exactly like you pictured it.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>It is worth re-trying foods that you didn’t like at first.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Anyone can be calmed in an instant by looking at the ocean or the stars.</i></span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28.078125px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i> Life is a solo trip, but you’ll have lots of visitors. Some of them are long-term, most aren’t.</i></span></span></li>
</ol>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 28.078125px;">And one of my absolute favourites:</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="line-height: 28.078125px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 28.078125px;"><i>25. When you’re sick of your own life, that’s a good time to pick up a book.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 28.078125px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-24851966429015713712013-07-08T13:59:00.002+05:302013-07-08T16:27:17.709+05:30When we find each other.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">We throw these curve balls at each other</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">At incredible speed</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Daring each other to catch</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Or miss on purpose,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Like its a challenge</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">An impossible dream,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Thrown into reality.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">The reality of you and me</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">The reality of us</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">The reality that flows like a river into the ocean,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">That stops right before it meets</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Only to be thrown back in,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Far far back</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Into the memories of time</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">When immemorial people lived</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">And craved and died</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">A hundred deaths just like us</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">When we cried that day</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">When we cried that we had found each other that day.</span></div>
Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-15114383338854911012013-07-08T13:56:00.003+05:302013-07-08T14:09:30.170+05:30Who?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Who does Money scream to</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">When it's passed around like a whore</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">From hand to hand?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Who does the Sun pray to</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">When its cup runneth over</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">And it needs advice?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Who does Smile grumble to</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">When its cheeks are red and jaws are burning</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">From a job overdone?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Who does Love complain to</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">When all it needs</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px;">Is someone to hold on to tonight?</span></div>
Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-1660098606571026182013-07-03T14:59:00.003+05:302013-07-03T18:40:30.499+05:30You and I.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">o baby</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">aren't you tired </span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">of the games we play,</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You and I?</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">don't call me now</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">because I don't want to do</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">that tom and jerry thing,</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">not with You and I.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">we speak in riddles</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">we don't speak at all</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">why do we do this,</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You and I?</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">then we say too much</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and hide it with too little</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">two little freaks we are,</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You and I.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">some days are great</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">some days so crap</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">i want to hit someone when i think </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">of You and I.</span></div>
</div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">we want to be together</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">we want to be alone</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">but confused is all we have,</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You and I.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">we push each other away</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">we pull a lot faster</span></div>
</div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">but can we make it work,</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You and I?</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">we don't have a name</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and we're both just the same</span></div>
</div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">maybe we're worth talking about,</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You and I.</span></div>
</div>
Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-61107411504561589502013-07-02T18:16:00.002+05:302013-07-08T14:09:07.027+05:30Headcase- potentially.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You know that thing when you can't concentrate, no matter how hard you try or what activity you pick? I've been wondering why that happens. </span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm sure there are several factors in play, but one of the most significant things I've noticed is a faint tick tick tick at the back of my head. Almost like those annoying carpenters in your head when you have a hangover, but not quite painful. Not physically anyway. </span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I think I've finally understand what the noise is. It's like a puzzle is going on in my head and there's a timer that's tick-tick-ticking. The funny thing is, most times I don't know what the puzzle is- could it be Unscramble or Chess or Angry Birds? I can't really tell- it's a hazy picture, as if it's a puzzle within a puzzle. First phase: figure out what kind of a game it is, and Phase Two- Then figure out how to solve it before that tick tick tick becomes a large TONG! and time's up. </span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This is a TASK and really, I have no more to say on this subject, except that being this state makes me one of the most unproductive people I know. I'm literally useless during these times. It's like I'm sleep walking through my day/s.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Just wondering if someone else out there feels the same way, or if I'm just a potential headcase. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-41163334922149879442013-06-20T16:20:00.000+05:302013-07-02T15:54:00.990+05:30How to love music today<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Note: this is again an article from a writing course I recently did. Since I've laboured over it, I figured I might as well post it! It's a tad long, but that's because it's a researched paper, so don't hold your breath while reading :)</span></i></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">How to Love Music today.</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>“Music is the fastest shortcut we know to the heart.
Nothing builds emotion like music.”</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Kevin Roberts, Saatchi & Saatchi.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It’s safe to assume that love for music is eternal and universal, right? If
that’s true, why is music piracy such a big issue in the world we live in today
(it may shock you to know that the average teen’s iPod has $800 of pirated
music*)?<br />
<br />
So should music be free or paid? If music should be free, what happens to the
artist? Do we (the consumer) know what we’re doing when we participate in
piracy, by ‘stealing’ the artist’s music when we illegally download their work?<br />
<br />
I work in media, where music is indirectly, but surely, related to my bread and
butter. So these are questions I have often asked several people – from friends
to industry heads- and the answer varies all the way from a “NO WAY if you’re a
true music lover, you’ll pay for the artist’s work” to “<i>hello</i>,
it’s <i>already</i> free- just go online and you’ll have what you
want in a minute!”. Every time I ask the question, I’m left feeling puzzled and
even more perplexed about what the right answer might be.<br />
<br />
Do a quick Google search and you’ll find the same confusion and debate
reflected on the page. There are people on either sides of the line. In fact,
according to a recent <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/27/arts/music/ghost-beach-band-debates-piracy-on-times-square-billboard.html?_r=0">article</a> in
the New York Times, a campaign in Manhattan had a bill board screaming out,
calling for artists to make a tough choice: <i>Artists For Piracy or
Artists Against Piracy</i>. The idea came up through a low-profile two-man
Brooklyn band that was given this billboard space as part of one of their music
deals with American Eagle. “When we were offered the space on the billboard, we
were perplexed about what to do with it,” said Josh Ocean, 27, the band’s lead
singer. “Since we started we’ve given away all our music for free, so just
telling people to purchase our music somewhere didn’t seem natural for us. So
we said, ‘What if we take advantage of this and open up a discussion about the
new music industry?”<br />
<br />
Still, from the likes of Bon Jovi to Pink Floyd, major record labels like
Warner and Sony, to the RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America), there
are people shouting out from the rooftops for the piracy to stop. Iconic
British band, The Beatles, even launched <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=K0_MeHq8o-o">a
video campaign</a> in 2011 especially to communicate these
sentiments.<br />
<br />
However, in the ongoing debate, there are musicians like Norah Jones, Shakira,
or Lady Gaga, who claim to not mind it. “"If people hear it, I'm happy.
I'm not going to say go steal my album, but I think it's great that young
people who don't have a lot of money can listen to music and be exposed to new
things," said Norah Jones in an interview to Sky News.<br />
<br />
Many artists even feel that the advent of digital music and the Internet have
actually benefitted them. Whether it’s the spreading of previously unknown
artists and genres through virals like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bZkp7q19f0">Psy’s Gangnam Style</a> or
making cover bands like Walk off the Earth shoot to fame with <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9NF2edxy-M">their cover of Somebody</a>,
the Internet seems to have helped musicians greatly by liberating them from the
chains of traditional recording companies. Some musicians, like FatBoy Slim
even argue this from an artist’s wages point of view. In an <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&v=NHc828qr-vA&NR=1">interview</a>,
he says, “Artists get controlled by record labels. They make all the money. And
today, we don’t need them anymore- to put it in simple terms, we can record the
music, put it up on MySpace and it spreads like wildfire. That’s why most
artists aren’t as worried about piracy as much as the big labels are.” It may
be surprising to some of us to know that on a CD that costs around $16, the
artist only makes an approximate of only $1.60**.<br />
<br />
Still, some people think that it’s about choice- the choice that the artist has
to release their music out in the open so it reaches lots of people quickly but
not have it remunerated, OR charge for your music and possibly limit your
audience. In an article by the New York Times, David Lowery of the bands Camper
Van Beethoven and Cracker exaclaims, “Piracy is eliminating your rights as
artists! Whereas, if you are for copyright, you have the choice to sell your
work or give it away.”<br />
<br />
But see, here’s the thing- I think we’re way off when it comes to the sides
we’re choosing on this debate. Human nature is simple: we see something lying
around, we claim it. If something is available for free, we almost never want
to pay for it. The way I see it, the only way to battle that, is to work around
it, not against it.<br />
<br />
What I mean to say is, there is a step in between the extremes of paid and
free, and we need to discover that. It may be important to note that for
hundreds of years before the copyright law was invented we were doing just
fine. We have a whole body of ridiculously beautiful art (be it music, paintings,
sculpture) to show for it. So the answer really lies in understanding what art
means to the artists and to their audience, and applying that understanding to
today’s world.<br />
<br />
As John Perry Barlow (lyricist for the hugely famous band, Grateful Dead, that
defied all rules by letting people tape their gigs way back in a time when it
was unheard of) puts it, “Art is a relationship. It’s not about property. It’s
about the intention of your audience. There are a lot of ways to create value
around that relationship.”<br />
<br />
Today, more than ever, you’ll notice that this relationship is a two way
street. Gone are the days when simply throwing out a piece of music at the
consumer is satisfactory to them. Today, engaging your audience whether it’s
through a live gig, innovative merchandise, collaborative <a href="http://www.maifm.co.nz/Miley-Cyrus-invites-fans-to-star-in-new-video/tabid/76/articleID/6722/Default.aspx">music
videos</a> such as Miley Cyrus’s, and even twitter activity (don’t you
love it when you can interact it with your favourite artists on social media!)
seems to be an important step to building and maintaining a relationship with
them. The idea is to make a fan out of an audience that is evolving, and to let
your audience feel like they have a part of themselves invested in you and your
art.<br />
<br />
Once we have begun to understand the value of this peculiar and dynamic
relationship between the artists and the consumer, we can begin to start
looking for solutions to apply to this problem of music piracy. One such way of
looking for a solution is to look for solutions based on access and ownership.
According to a study done in 2012 by YouGov, almost 55% of young people
(16-24yrs) today are satisfied with just accessing music and they aren’t really
worried about owning it. This is less true for older people (only 12% prefer
access to ownership), but then older people are also not so much the people who
are downloading illegally anyway.<br />
<br />
So keeping that in mind, solutions that allow for <i>convenience and accessibility</i>,
such as 8tracks.com (an online radio of sorts) and Pandora or Spotify (a peer
to peer music sharing service) seem to be a step toward bridging that gap
between legal and illegally consumed music. Says Sean Parker of the Napster
fame (now on the board of Spotify), “The distribution model for music is
broken. You have to accept that the war on piracy is a failure. Spotify allows
for unlimited streaming on your device while the content is still locked- it
can’t be moved to another mobile device. Still, you’re listening to a music
library that you choose and love, and maybe even addicted to, so soon enough,
you’ll want to keep some of it or all of it. That’s when you realize that if
you want to own it, you’ll have to subscribe and pay for it, or buy it.”<br />
<br />
So really, unlike solutions that say <i>pay, pay, pay,</i> ideas like
Spotify allow the user now to choose between what they want to <i>access</i> and
what they want to <i>own</i> by paying for it.<br />
<br />
My point overall is simple. Music, now more than ever before is one of the most
important parts of our lives (especially given the kind of access and exposure
that we now have to it), and music consumption is also at an all time high.
There is no need to convince people to have music in their lives- it’s almost a
default setting within most of us. The love and need for music is already
there, so it’s not really a case of the music lover (one who pays) vs. the
music non-supporter (the pirate). In fact, the 'pirates' probably download as
much as they do, <i>because</i> they love music much more than the
average music consumer.<br />
<br />
So there is no <i>need</i> for a war between free and paid. What is
necessary is for the world to wake up and smell the coffee and realize that the
way music is consumed today has changed. So really, the solution is to
understand what people want, how they want it, and giving it to them in a way
that is most fair to both the artists and the audience. If we, as a society,
work toward opening conversations about how to make and spread music without
imposing hard-bent rules on people, there might actually be no debate on how to
love music the right way.<br />
<i><br />
*Source: technology/timesonline.co.uk</i> <i>**Source: Almighty Institute
of Music Retail</i></span></div>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-7037992102975409222013-05-24T15:44:00.001+05:302013-07-02T15:54:44.502+05:30Relationship Power Play<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #222222;">Remember that song</span><span style="color: #222222;"> </span><i style="color: #222222;">Quit Playing Games With My Heart</i><span style="color: #222222;">? Yes, the Back Street boys one- don't pretend to not know it- you</span><span style="color: #222222;"> </span><i style="color: #222222;">know</i><span style="color: #222222;"> </span><span style="color: #222222;">you know it. In fact, like the rest of us teens who grew up in the 90s, you probably know every lyric and every</span><span style="color: #222222;"> </span><i style="color: #222222;">ummm baby, nanannaa... oh yeaaah</i><span style="color: #222222;">! Besides how could you ever forget that cute-as-hell Nick Carter (I don't know how I thought that- now I feel like taking a scissor to his hair and asking him to grow a pair)?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Yeah, so the first time I heard that song it meant something completely different than it means now, more than a decade later. Then (I was probably 13/14), it was just a song with someone else's heartbreak and the song and it's tune, and the band of boys were cooler than the lyrics. A few years later, with a real heartbreak up my sleeve, it meant relating to it a little more (although it was still too a peppy pop song to really <i>feel</i> it, and a ballad-like one like the whiny<i> Alllll By Myseeeeeeeeeelfffff</i> was more effective with the water works more than a BB song).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Anyway, coming to the Now- that song, or at least that line means a whole different thing- it's feels like they should sing <i>Quit</i> <i>Playing Games with my Mind</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It's all about Power Play these days, isn't it? I don't know if it's just me (and my fabulous and infamous bad luck with men), or if it's the age (late 20s and you're more jaded), or if it's the place I live in (Bombay with it's really screwed up artists and actors and what not), or if it's a combination of all three. But the thing is, these days I seem to be running into people who just want to get into a relationship to make themselves feel like they're in control.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Which, by the way, is such a retarded concept. If you're not in control of yourself and your life from the start, then how the hell do you expect to be in control when you've added another whole human being to the mix? In this kind of relationship, one of two kind of mind games happen (or god forbid, both- in which case you must really have it bad)- </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">a) the guy is completely into you, and he is fully and absolutely involved and invested in your life (which you love- who doesn't love the attention?), and then suddenly, <i>BAM! </i>the guy expects to mind control you. He will tell you what to do and what you can't/ shouldn't do and then next thing you know (slowly but surely), he thinks he owns you and your mind, and it leaves you wondering if it's he's completely lost the plot and/or if this is his way of validating his painful existence. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">b) the guy is into you- sometimes SO much and sometimes it's all <i>meh, not so much</i>. Aloof be-th his middle name-th, and he's cat-and-mousing you all over the place. This kind of guy will give a little, take a lot more, and then disappear for a bit. Sometimes he'll give a lot and before it even fully reached your hand, he'll snatch it right back. He'll be more inconsistent and undependable than the weather in New York. He'll have you guessing alllll the time, and this way he'll be on your mind all the time. The idea is that he has all the power. He'll be nice when wants to, and highly ambiguous when he wants to. Mind you, he'll very rarely be mean directly, so you can't point any fingers at him, but he'll make sure he's playing those games with your brain all the time, because you see like the other guy above, he too needs to do this to feel powerful, in control and good about himself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Why is power such an important part of a relationship? Don't get me wrong- the above two examples of men, they could just as easily be women (although I've honestly heard of rarer cases with women)- greed for power and being in control is gender neutral. But I realllly wonder- why is the world so hungry for power- whether it's politics, at work or in bed? Doesn't real power come from within yourself? Do you have to make someone else feel small in order to feel like the more powerful one? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">All I can do is roll my eyes, and stay as far away from these power plays as possible.</span></div>
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<img height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcelwtuQ2YH7Z-qby9WkXwBXa6slsXzVkbyTgF5QPF50N4ZYRiH5q4DC_V9nD4e95tq9kTpsl6HQTds7rY-LxrX3NhIujAG4O7JeMD6FPZsg2hohqr92xLN1W8n4voV8l_RPSQ3uGQ668/s320/mind_games.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-85704558361853593232013-05-16T19:27:00.002+05:302013-07-02T15:55:17.561+05:30Black and white.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">How do you separate the small from the big?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">How do you ask for something that is not yours?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">How do you scream when your voice is borrowed?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">How do you stop losing against yourself?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Where is the sane whisper?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">The sound that cuts through the silence</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">And burns the cob webs?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">That sounds like your mothers voice</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">So gentle so deafening,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">So quick and free.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">That abracadabra to your problem,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">The free in your spirit</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">The moo in your cow.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Dreams get spun by talking to yourself</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Under the shadow of a tree</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">That's green and amber.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Where are my dreams?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Where is the tree?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Where is the shadow that I need?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">I could cry and cry,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Till my throat is sore,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">And my eyes are red</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Like the sun that's screaming for release.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Because black is black,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">And white is white,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">And the grey is just a color</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Made up by the mind,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">To take you all the way</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Into a fog</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">That is so thick and</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Deep and colorless as water</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Till it's all just a never ending ramble.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Find me my voice or my shadow</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">And my black</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Or my white.</span></span></div>
Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-66867035649623634482013-05-16T18:59:00.003+05:302013-07-02T15:55:43.467+05:30I write because I cannot not write.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">This was assignment #2 of the course I'm doing- which asked us to talk about how our identities as writers connects with the identities of other artists/ writers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><i>“I write because I cannot not write.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This is how my conversation with my writer friend had begun
one random Saturday night. We were three of us friends hanging out, of which
two of us were writers, and the third, a banker. I’m not sure why or how we
began that conversation, but an hour or so into it, I think Banker Man was wont
to throw in the towel, and run to Far Far Away. Here’s why- what we talked
about that night, with a sense of absolute urgency, was how when the writing
urge takes over, there is no going back. It’s a visceral feeling… almost as if
someone had taken over your body and there’s no way you can ask it to pause. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It’s pure passion. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My observation this week, across the many articles I read,
was exactly that. Every single piece I read came from a place that was personal,
and really <i>felt</i>. Writers, as is the
same for all kind of artists, have one big thing in common- the dire <i>need</i> to communicate what they feel. They
say the world is split into left brainers and right brainers, and if you
believed in that theory, you’d see that the right brainers are more ‘feelers’,
rather than ‘reasoners’. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I’m certainly not saying that all artists, or writers, are
loons who don’t believe in logic. No, no. I’m merely suggesting that they are
people who feel first, and reason after that. Feeling is instinctive to them.
And expressing that feeling becomes the next step- whether it’s through a
painting, a piece of music, or through carefully designed language.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For me, and for most writers I know (including the ones I
read today), this need to express is almost a burning desire. It’s sometimes
not even voluntary. My favourite proof of this to myself (so I can tell myself
that I’m not going completely crazy) is a TED talk I heard by Elizabeth Gilbert
(author of the famed ‘Eat, Pray Love’). Amongst other things writer-related,
she talked about the existence of a muse. The muse, she said, was an extension
of yourself, or perhaps, it had nothing to do with you at all. It was just
someone with all that ‘talent’ that came to use your body to express its
creativity. She talked about herself, and several other writers in history, who
had said that this sometimes inexplicable urge to write, felt like someone or
something had possessed you, and you had to let it do its job.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I’m going on and on about this passion, and this need to
express feeling, because not only is this the one thing that identifies us as
artists or writers, but it’s perhaps the most important thing to keep in mind
as we write or express. It’s our USP. Indeed, it’s the ‘research’ to our
business- Looking deep within ourselves, and our experiences and converting it
into words is what we do. Like Hemmingway once said, “There is nothing to
writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It’s almost like we’re in the business of converting our
emotion through expression, while touching the hearts of the world, and saying
to them, “You felt this once too, you remember?”. Because you see, all
emotions, all feelings, all thoughts, on one level or the other, are universal.
At some point in their lives, everyone has felt something you’ve felt, and
making them feel this once again through your expression is the goal. That is why
expressing these feelings, ideas, and emotions in their purest forms are
essential to us and to our success. It is the gift that has been bestowed on us
right-brained people to give to the world- especially those logic-driven
left-brained people who sometimes are in desperate need of getting in touch
with themselves!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Even personally for us as people, it’s therapeutic. Sometimes
the pen and paper become our shrinks. They let us channel our questions, our
surprises, our grief, our happiness. What I’ve discovered (much to my
surprise), is that it’s not always related either. For example, I don’t
necessarily write angry or sad poetry or prose when I’m in a negative state of
mind. In fact, the book that I wrote last year, was written during what was
probably one of the hardest phases in my life. And yet, the book talked about
sunshine and happiness. I’m beginning to think that maybe that was my way of
letting myself hope. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Whatever it may be though, it’s important for a writer to be
real, to delve deep, call on himself or his muse, to come spew out the story
that needs to be told. Notice I said, needs to told, not should be told. Grammar,
style, or other rules of writing, are merely different tools that help with
your craft- just as the pen, keyboard, or paper do. The real secret to being a
successful writer is to tell a story that needs to be told; indeed, a story
that needs to be read. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Because you see, you cannot not tell it. </span></div>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-25300796307797362452013-05-06T13:34:00.001+05:302013-07-02T15:56:02.238+05:30Stay, please.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">You pull me closer,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Closer, tighter,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">You snare me in.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">And then you throw me</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Push me, question me,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Challenge me to</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Walk walk walk</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Away from you.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">And I'm sick of it,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">But I'll come back.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Because you take me,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Make me,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Forsake me,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Oh, you make a fool outta me.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">How can I hate you</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">And love you,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">In the same breath?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Huff puff we go.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Stop start,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Stop start.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Oh god dammit,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Stay for a minute.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Just stay</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Won't you?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Don't stay for me,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Or you.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Stay because</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">You just can't leave.</span></span></div>
Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-45758497499510950562013-05-06T13:29:00.001+05:302017-09-17T20:42:33.356+05:30On Writing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">So I finally decided to get my act together and do something about the writing (see <a href="http://emo-disgu-drunku.blogspot.in/2013/04/2013-wish-list.html" target="_blank">this</a> for more context). Apart the renewed push I've had to give Bacon Bits (the book I've written, for those who don't know), I've also enrolled myself in a cool course online. Ya, ya, no need to giggle at the mention of online certification, because, a) I'm not in it for the certification I actually just want to learning anything it'll teach me to better my writing b) It's a pretty cool course that's being taught by faculty from Ohio Uni and the website offers a whole host of cool courses by some pretty rad universities and faculty (coursera.com if I've managed to intrigue you).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">So, anyhoo, since all this writing is coming out anyway, I figured I might as well post it out here. Here's the first of the assignments that asked us to describe ourselves as writers. Enjoy, and for those of you that are more proactive and cooler than the rest, leave me some comments :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><b><u>The three times I met
the writer in me.</u><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">#1<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">It was the summer of 1994. It was hot. It was so hot that
the adults in the house insisted the children wear nothing but flimsy, white
petticoats, so that they didn’t have cranky kids on their hands. It was my favourite
place in the world. We were spending the summer at my grandparents’ house in Udupi-
a small, south-west, coastal town in India, which almost kissed the Arabian
Sea. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">My story begins here. I was nine that summer, and like most
summers, my parents, tired of having to deal with two kids all year, had
shipped my sister and me off to my grandparents’ house. To my nine year-old
mind, there was no place more beautiful than their house. It was constructed
badly (or so I kept hearing the big people say), with no running water (only a
well), hardly any room for natural ventilation (although it was a humungous
house), and almost no natural light entering it. But I loved the darkness of
it. Actually, more than the darkness, I loved it for the little shafts of light
that came from small glass planes in the otherwise tiled roof. The dust mites
would catch the light and dance all around it; I could almost hear the music
that they were making with the light.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">It was by one of these shafts of light that I remember writing
for the first time. It was a fake newspaper. Why, you ask? Well, because I was
nine, I had nothing to do for ninety days of summer, I read a lot of books, and
I suppose my curious mind wanted to see if I could replicate something, and a
fake newspaper seemed like a stellar idea. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">I remember my father reading this paper, and I remember a
grin on his face- growing from a tiny change of lip shape, to a really big
smile that reached his eyes and becoming pride. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">“You wrote this?” he asked, with disbelief in his eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">When I nodded, he hugged me. This is probably when I knew
that maybe, just maybe, this was something <i>cool</i>
I could do. That maybe, just maybe, I have this other cool person living in me-
my writer.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">#2<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Sixteen years later, in the summer of 2010, I was sitting in
a café in Bratislava, Slovakia. I was on an all-expense-paid trip to Europe
(yes, you read that right- it was a <i>real</i>
free trip that I had actually <i>won </i>through
a contest). And this was when I had the pleasure of meeting the writer in me
again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">So, here I was, at The Café (apparently the Slovaks weren’t
too innovative with names), taking a breather from the wild euro-trippin’,
sitting by myself with my journal. I was trying to encapsulate the last week of
being in Europe (Prague, Munich, Budapest); telling the story of the amazing
people I had met so far, when suddenly, I had the inexplicable and the
irresistible urge to abandon what I was writing, and write another story- one
that had been in my head for a long time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">To set you a quick context to this- Post that summer of
discovering the writer in me, I had continued writing, with starry-eyed dreams
about becoming a novelist. But as I grew older, my writing dream became smaller
and smaller. Making money and having a stable life became the priority. You
see, my father was an artist, and my mother a designer, and although they had
lead creatively fulfilled lives, the regular monthly paycheck was missing. Over
the years, I realized I wanted a more stable life than theirs, and urged the
practical part of my brain to take over. I finished university and promptly
started working in a space that would bring me a great paycheck, although it
had not a thing to do with the thing I was actually <i>cool</i> at. My writer must’ve have been rolling her eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">However, that day in Slovakia, armed with the journal in my
hand and that idea in my head, the Writer in me re-emerged, and hijacked me. I
don’t know what inspired her to make the grand comeback- it could have been the
place, it could have been the starry sky above; hell, it could’ve been that she
was just tired of being ignored. All I know is that she jumped at me with a
force and a precision that hardly left me a minute to recognize or acknowledge her.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">I wrote like a person possessed that evening. I began on a
new page of what was an almost empty book, and wrote, wrote, wrote. About thirty
pages in, I remember my hand aching, and wishing I had had the foresight to
bring my laptop- a word processor would’ve been a great solution to beat the
angry marks that were developing between my thumb and my index finger. But she
(my writer) couldn’t give a damn about the physical stress she was causing. She
just partied on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><b>#3</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Fast forward to a year and something later. The year is now
(end of) 2011, I am in New York- the city of dreams, where I have come to spend
the two month break I have taken from my life, to write the beautiful novel I
started that day in Slovakia. Where, in fact, what actually did happen, is that
I’ve ended up with a big, fat, broken heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">I had quit my job, and invested all my savings to go to New York
to finish my book (I’d realized that travel inspired me like nothing else). I
was on a roll. In the first three weeks, I had worked laboriously, punching out
an average of 4000 words a day. I only had the last leg to finish.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">One chilly morning, my boyfriend (who I lived with in India), called me to tell me, very abruptly, that he needed to
leave. Both me, and our life together. I could hardly process the words rushing
at me across the phone from India. It was almost as if the physical distance
between us made me not fully comprehend what he was saying. I spent the next
three weeks wandering, lost, and unable to understand what was happening around
me. I was in a new world, with new people, and a new situation that I could not
comprehend. I was that girl sitting on a bench in a park in the rain, whose
tears and the rain on her face looked the same. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">My world felt torn in the middle. I was lost. And my book,
my words, my story were lost with me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">My last day in New York I met Gina. If my writer could have
a face, it would be her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">I met Gina at a coffee shop, sitting by herself, painting
little nothings on a piece of cloth. We started talking across tables. She was
from the city, and wanted to show me around. As we walked across Upper
Manhattan that day, we talked about nothing in specific and everything that
mattered- we talked about how the November light was fading so quickly across
the yellow and crimson trees. We talked about the tall, never-ending columns of
a church we were passing by. We talked about a squirrel that was running through
a patch of grass in a park.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Without meaning to, I started thinking about how I would
describe this. I started imagining what all of this would look like as words
swimming on a sheet of white, white paper. My writer came back to me that day,
to rescue me from myself. I realized that day, that my writer and me, we’re
one. </span></div>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-91999752100582363412013-04-08T11:57:00.002+05:302013-07-02T15:56:40.801+05:30How well do you know yourself?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Isn't it strange that the person you see the least in your lifetime is you? Literally and otherwise. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sure, you see pictures of yourself all the time- and if you're a narcissistic person, you end up seeing it more often than most- but that doesn't quite tell you anything right? I mean, the complex facial poetry, the tiny changes in body language... you know what it <i>feels</i> like from the inside, when you're saying something or portraying a certain feeling, but you haven't seen those expressions ON yourself. For example, when my mother is just about to scream at me, I know <i>exactly</i> what is coming my way just by looking at her face. For years and years, I've watched her facial muscles change in a million small ways- pain, happiness, discomfort, a grin, a squint, a confused look etc. In fact, I know her so well, I can tell her sub-emotions too- like a mixture of disappointment and relief, or a combo of excited, proud and slightly anxious. With people who you know so well, they don't even have to say anything most of the time, you just know it from all that internalisation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">When I meet new people, I look forward to getting to know them better. I'm excited about learning the little expressions that become familiar to me- their adoration, admiration, confusion, alarm, boredom, restlessness and the like. Sometimes I like predicting it and finding out if I'm right- like for example, I know when a friend is going to throw a slight pout right after she says something funny, or how my sister will pucker her eyes just before saying cheese to a picture.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I pride myself on being intutive with people and reading them right (I try!), so it brings me a <i>ting!</i> of happy when I discover I'm right. With the people I care about, I feel especially proud- like these people are mine, ya know? And those little things about those people become a part of me forever. In fact, when I have fall-outs (romantic relationships and otherwise), this is the part that is hardest to let go, the part that becomes the hardest to leave behind. Such is the intensity with which we (or maybe it's just me?) observe and absorb people's expressions and portrayal of themselves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Which brings me to the point I was making earlier- it's strange that the expressions we throw out are the ones we're least familiar with. We can <i>feel</i> it from the inside, but our best imagination will still fall short of how it actually looks. By the time we've conjured up a look- some image of what it must look like- it's gone, changed, or mixed with another expression. If we had to step out of our body and our mind and just observe ourselves, would we be able to guess what an expression meant- a little scrunching of the nose, or the bite of a lower lip, eyes lowered or palms twisting? </span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It alarms me to think of the answer- perhaps I won't recognise what I'm thinking or how I'm about to react. How little we know of ourselves in a lifetime, if we don't even know this. This is coming from the fact that we're supposed to know ourselves best- better than anyone else. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And yet, we know so very little. </span><br />
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<img height="236" src="http://www.leftycartoons.com/wp-content/uploads/rightmirror.png" width="320" /></div>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-52343553190098317732013-04-02T14:47:00.002+05:302013-07-02T15:56:54.297+05:302013 Wish List<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This is a little late in coming, but better late than never, I suppose! Besides, I'm intrigued because the year before last the first thing I put on my list in the beginning of the year, is that I would like this to be a travel year. And for some very odd reason, it absolutely was. And HOW.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So here goes my wishlist for 2013. I'm putting it in my palm and blowing on it, hoping it gets to the ears of the universe and it's feeling a little generous the day it reaches them :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">1. I will write, write, write and write till I swell with pride when I look at my writing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">2. My book will be published</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">3. I will save and travel again this year</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #222222;">4. I will make sure I think things through before I do things (minimize the drama- but I'll still do impulsive things from time to time, because I don't really want to </span><i style="color: #222222;">change</i><span style="color: #222222;"> me entirely!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">5. I will find more of myself and have the courage to make a real career move</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">6. I will learn a new language</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">7. I will create cool things for the house- DIY lamps, posters, cups etc.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">8. I will read, read, READ (all kinds of different books) until my cup runneth over and I'm all read out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Someone (who I met recently, who I think is pretty cool) said to me- "If you want something, like<i> really</i> want it- purely from the right intent, not with the other<i> this-is-what-i-can-do-if-I-had-this</i> intent, but from a <i>I-just-really-really-want-it</i> kinda place, it will happen". I really, really (with the right intent, obviously!) hope that this is true, and I really, really want the above (esp points 1, 2 and 5), so I'm going to keep wanting and I hope, next year this time, I'll be writing here about how all of the above happened!</span></div>
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<img height="190" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m5iomjgyt81ry5k4zo1_500.gif" width="320" /><br />
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-10208230544295587512013-01-03T09:13:00.000+05:302013-07-02T15:57:14.000+05:30I think I remember you<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Weren't you the one </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">With the short hair,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The brown eyes,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And a tiny mark on your eyebrow,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That shape of moon-crop, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The shape of a memory</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That was a scar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Weren't you that same one </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Who wondered why the sky was so blue,</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That you made us stare and stare</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Till our eyes turned big</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Just as turquoise flashes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Left us bat blind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Or were you that one</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">With the smile that was aspirin</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For my aching head</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A quiet shoulder,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For the calmest nap</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">With a kiss that was bright</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Like sunshine on my forehead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Or wait, were you the one</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Who read a tale of two cities out loud,</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Although you hated the book</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But loved the sound of your reading voice</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So much so that you wondered </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">If entire nations and diplomats </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">and big men </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In fat suits would pay money to hear you read. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Or was that you</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The one that liked to pick fights</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For my vanity, my modesty</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Oh so pure, oh so yours,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You'd constantly throw </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Black </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">and purple bruises </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">At every pervert, </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Even the imaginary.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Weren't you the one</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That sent pink kisses</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And hot light </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Up and down my body</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Every time you touched me </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So smooth and dangerous</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It made me shiver and wish sweet pain </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Would hurt less.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Weren't you that very same one</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That loved me so much </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It hurt</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">To break my heart</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And your own</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But you had to, </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Because the leaves were colouring</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The wind was changing</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And we had to go go go.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You are so many people</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So many memories</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I don't forget</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I can't dismiss</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Because you made me</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And filled my soul</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So when I die </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I die so many deaths</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They'll have to call out too many names</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And wipe too many tears.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Yes I think I remember you.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I never forgot you.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I remember and I want </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I dream and I wonder</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Because you linger</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In just that corner of my mind</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That makes me smile.</span></div>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-9753086856901276552012-11-16T20:23:00.001+05:302013-07-02T16:29:58.060+05:30The Grown Ups.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I was talking to a very good friend the other day and she said something that startled me- 'I don't believe in the concept of besties, that's such a childish idea.' That might shock some of you. Not just the idea that she doesn't believe in besties, but the idea that it's a <em>childish</em> concept! I mean <i>commmmon</i>, can you imagine your life without a bestie in it? I certainly can't. And the funny part is, I know her really well, and I know for a fact that she does in fact, have three solidly SOLID besties that she spends almost every waking moment with.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So the problem with it was the label? Calling a spade a spade?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Like I said, the most astounding part for me was that she claimed that it was childish, a concept that was really only till 'like class 4 or something'. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My mouth hung open. While some may consider it childish, upon further reflection, I can only stretch to think of it as 'child-like'. And really, with the kind of magic there is in child-like imagination or thought or ideas, I can't imagine why people wouldn't want to have more of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">As I grow older, I'm realising more and more that growing up essentially means belonging to a restrictive group of people- 'the cool group' that isn't immature. That group that does grown up things like dissing the concept of birthday parties, and bragging (yes, really, <em>bragging</em>) about how romance is for the fools.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Why do we get more cynical with every year that passes, although we discover so many new things everyday? Why, as a race, do we get more pessimistic with every birthday that goes by? And worst of all, why do we insist that people around us should be exactly that way, otherwise quickly damning them to the childish/immature bracket? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The bewildering question is- why on earth does being a grown up mean that we lose our ability to dream of good things, to have faith in stuff and/or lose all sense of imagination?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm turning 27 in a couple of days and the one thing I'm damned sure about is that I never want to lose my sense of wonder. It'll be my one wish when I blow my birthday candles this year (if the birthday cake is too childish for you, too bloody bad- deal with it :P ).</span></div>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-89864422387894912572012-10-22T11:02:00.003+05:302012-10-22T11:03:52.229+05:30Where is the female Chaucer?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">An excerpt that I really loved from 'Fear of Flying' by Erica Jong-</span><br />
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-90409811167086586792012-10-18T16:12:00.001+05:302013-07-02T15:58:42.134+05:30Technically, my soulmate.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I was on a Girlfriend Date the other day- we were going to lunch, coffee and then a movie. And it was a super fun day! We talked about exes, current crushes, bitchy bosses, 50 shades of Grey and how that'll maybe make men better in bed (I read a statistic that after reading the book, women wanted to go at it 50% more with their men and the men were now feeling the pressure- go, Christian Grey!), places we'd like to vacation, and all of that girly kind of thing. Jokes were shared, gossip was gleaned, secrets were whispered and in the middle of it all, VB and I were making love to our phones. We were busy instagramming pictures of the chandliers at the quaint place we were having lunch at, or tweeting about how much fun we were having- Hashtag #GirlsDayOut.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">SO, at one point, one of the girls, PB, got furious at VB and me, and stalked off (she didn't leave or anything- just walked away in disgust for a tad!). VB and I were trying to figure out what caused that dramatic reaction. Wasn't being on the phone only natural, given the day and age? What's the point of doing something if you aren't putting it there on social for the world to see- <i>wait</i>, that sounded so wrong. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But seriously, look around. Everyone is on their phones. And sometimes I can agree with P, it's annoying. Like smoking zones used to be the best place for fun, unpressurised <wbr></wbr>conversation. I've made many a great new friends just by hanging out with people in the smoking zone. Smoking zones are areas where people are gathered to do one thing that binds them together- smoke. And in the meanwhile, chat about one thing or the other- whether it's Gangnam style's ridiculous fame or how the auto rickshaw prices just leaped up into the sky. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Now, though.. everyone who comes to the smoking zone just zones out and zones into their phones. All random conversation has died a tragic death. It's like the phone has replaced a person. Or rather, it's like phone is your new best friend, a second shadow. Something that will give you company, anywhere, any time- all you need is a charged battery (have you seen how near death look on someone's face when their phone's running out of battery?). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Your bf/gf/spouse may be boring you to tears on a dinner date, your bus may be late, you might not be able to fall asleep, your flight maybe 12 hours too long- but fear not! The Smart Phone is here, in a cape and all. Take your pick- Anything from angry birds to organising your day to throwing sheep at a friend on Facebook. Or if you're me- reading a grand ole book on a tiny screen. Your phone is the best friend you never had, a soul mate like none other. It loves you, chooses you and wants you - it's your Derek Shepherd and Christina Yang, rolled into one. <i>Beat that, byatch!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">As is obvious above, I have no final word on this- I'm as guilty as the next person who's obsessed with and makes goo-goo eyes at their phones, and I'm also as irritated as the next person who hates how anti-social (how ironic) our phones make us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But what can I say- it's my technical soulmate :)</span></div>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658713038158575190.post-21059650021259124702012-10-10T11:56:00.001+05:302013-07-02T15:59:10.195+05:30Ruin Me.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You ruin me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Every time you touch me. Every time you smile at me. Every time you even frown at me, with those brown eyes that are capable of setting my body on fire.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And I ask myself ...why do I do this to myself? I tell myself- never again. I say to myself that there has to be an end to this. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Then you say my name- a whisper, so simple, as if it's nothing... I watch mutely as I see your mouth making the shape of my name, and slowly, very slowly, it floats toward me, the sound touching my ear, ever so softly- before it explodes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And I'm ruined all over again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The trouble is I'm never more alive. Every time you ruin me, even my tears sparkle. The heartache makes me touch the moon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Call me a fool, but I am willing to lose it all to feel that high. Because I can't bear to exist in the absence...in the silence. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, go ahead, ruin me again.</span></div>
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Too much too littlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09692122036115250060noreply@blogger.com2