I’m actually not this lazy (I’m totally lazy) but, well what’s the point of giving excuses like work, lack of life, computer crashing and too much alcohol to write anything ever. FYI, all of these are true.
But the reason I’ve finally decided to snap out of lull and do a bit if writing is because we all know the internet is truly preciously the only way to connect with people. No? Yes.
All I am asking from all your wonderful human beings in and around the planet (and some who I know reside on ‘planet retard’ forever and have no intentions setting foot back on earth) is to invent an alarm clock that works. Please people please. Without wanting me to tear my I inch hair on the head. I mean if I have to get down to doing that, not much would be left and I don’t know too many people fancying a bald woman.
I have tripped, tipped over the bed, broken a few incense stands and dropped my phone a zillion times in an effort to switch that bloody thing off. And that’s not such a good way to start your day, is it?
Most importantly those of you who want to set an example of niceness that will make everyone else go ‘aww…’ and earn you brownie points and exceptionally good karma can buy me a new phone. Yes, I did ask Polka, but he refused till I buy him some bloody watch. So then. Givers anyone?
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
I love it when people clap
No this is not an original title. I’ve just whacked it off a comment on Polka’s post.
People have different viewpoints of religion. What is divinity to one is senseless to some. Personally, I think I fall into the category of people who really don’t care. As long as my maid turns up, as long as banks calls me on regular intervals offering me personal loans and gold credit cards, and as long as the politicians are throwing dirt at each other on prime-time news, I know all is well with the world, with or without god. I do not pretend to go out of my way condoning it or taking a particularly strong irreligious stand, and on the other hand I do not remember the last time I entered a place of worship {barring of course, my failed attempts at trying to sneak into a Zoroastrian place of worship with TeaLight and see what the whole thing is all about – apologies on behalf of my juvenile delinquent mind. I respect their need for privacy regarding their religion.}
Also, almost never do I look up to god, in the sense, looking helplessly up in the sky and asking for meaning, direction, help or just plain blatant favours from it. I do not make pacts and deals with it - please let this happen, and in turn, I shall do this. My point is, I rather make a more convincing deal where I might actually end up sticking to my part of the promise with relevant people who might have the powers, so to say, to give me whatever it is that seems to be the biggest thing in my life at that point.
However, I do have my own version of divinity. And here’s what it is on a hot, sweaty summer day when temperatures are soaring and you begin t wonder if people would really have an objection if you decided to make a bikini top and loincloth tied around your bottoms the new summer 08 staple wardrobe – Chilled Thai raw papaya salad with roasted chopped peanuts sprinkled on it to balance the tanginess.
I would consider worshipping it even.
People have different viewpoints of religion. What is divinity to one is senseless to some. Personally, I think I fall into the category of people who really don’t care. As long as my maid turns up, as long as banks calls me on regular intervals offering me personal loans and gold credit cards, and as long as the politicians are throwing dirt at each other on prime-time news, I know all is well with the world, with or without god. I do not pretend to go out of my way condoning it or taking a particularly strong irreligious stand, and on the other hand I do not remember the last time I entered a place of worship {barring of course, my failed attempts at trying to sneak into a Zoroastrian place of worship with TeaLight and see what the whole thing is all about – apologies on behalf of my juvenile delinquent mind. I respect their need for privacy regarding their religion.}
Also, almost never do I look up to god, in the sense, looking helplessly up in the sky and asking for meaning, direction, help or just plain blatant favours from it. I do not make pacts and deals with it - please let this happen, and in turn, I shall do this. My point is, I rather make a more convincing deal where I might actually end up sticking to my part of the promise with relevant people who might have the powers, so to say, to give me whatever it is that seems to be the biggest thing in my life at that point.
However, I do have my own version of divinity. And here’s what it is on a hot, sweaty summer day when temperatures are soaring and you begin t wonder if people would really have an objection if you decided to make a bikini top and loincloth tied around your bottoms the new summer 08 staple wardrobe – Chilled Thai raw papaya salad with roasted chopped peanuts sprinkled on it to balance the tanginess.
I would consider worshipping it even.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Oh shut up everyone and let this bloody weekend end.
I hate weekends. I have nothing to do, and if I am not working, really, I rather be one of the vegetables in the chilled compartments of my fridge, since my life happens to be just as exciting as a bloody fucking cabbage.
And this one is a long weekend. And I'm tired of reading, sleeping, drinking coffee, watching movies and ignoring the rest of the world and decline invitations for vegetarian dinners at fat sindhi households. Fuck off.
PS: I need a drink. And there are stupid freaking guests at home and I had to show my face and say "hello" to people I don't know and all that.
I hate weekends. I have nothing to do, and if I am not working, really, I rather be one of the vegetables in the chilled compartments of my fridge, since my life happens to be just as exciting as a bloody fucking cabbage.
And this one is a long weekend. And I'm tired of reading, sleeping, drinking coffee, watching movies and ignoring the rest of the world and decline invitations for vegetarian dinners at fat sindhi households. Fuck off.
PS: I need a drink. And there are stupid freaking guests at home and I had to show my face and say "hello" to people I don't know and all that.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
eating wor..
Its been 10 days since chicklet no. 2 has joined.
And I’m going to eat my words.
Besides letting her just be and read up on whatever she takes a fancy to, I’ve also been spending time with her. Ideating. Letting her get a hang of how we function. And I’ve been involving her on the project I’m neck deep buried in. It’s refreshing to see 18yr olds to be so sorted in their heads. She actually understands brands. And has clear cut fresh ideas that actually work. A new perspective on everything. And since the kind of stuff I work on involves a lot of young teen and kids, it is wonderful to hear her views on it, and let go of my own school and college experiences that happened more than a decade ago. I think this is one of the biggest lessons for a creative person – to stay humble. Because there are going to be chicklets and chikoos who are going to beat you at your own game. And the true test of the person you are is that point – that moment when you know someone half your age with zero experience comes up with something brilliant and you actually feel super proud.
And I’m going to eat my words.
Besides letting her just be and read up on whatever she takes a fancy to, I’ve also been spending time with her. Ideating. Letting her get a hang of how we function. And I’ve been involving her on the project I’m neck deep buried in. It’s refreshing to see 18yr olds to be so sorted in their heads. She actually understands brands. And has clear cut fresh ideas that actually work. A new perspective on everything. And since the kind of stuff I work on involves a lot of young teen and kids, it is wonderful to hear her views on it, and let go of my own school and college experiences that happened more than a decade ago. I think this is one of the biggest lessons for a creative person – to stay humble. Because there are going to be chicklets and chikoos who are going to beat you at your own game. And the true test of the person you are is that point – that moment when you know someone half your age with zero experience comes up with something brilliant and you actually feel super proud.
This is worrying me now
Chicklet No. 2 wears fibre glassed 6 inch stilletos to work. Along with a shiny fake patent-leathered animal-printed hobo bag. And considering she’s half my size (and if you make the fatal mistake of ignoring my self obsession with my body and my “I’m so fat, kill me now” whines, I’m barely five foot tall and a borderline underweight case) it makes for a pretty hilarious sight.
I’m also scared I might be booked for harboring and encouraging child labour. She’s apparently is 18 years old. But looks not a day over 10. To avoid getting arrested, I have decided to just let her read hair magazines all day long.
I’ve put on 2 kgs. My life is shattered because of this. I’ve begun my fruit diet from today. It helps that I also have a stomach infection and tiny blood pressure issues. I’m hoping all this illness combined together will at least make me a little thinner. And all the fruit that I’m about to eat will make my skin shinier, minus the shimmering lotion.
And finally, anybody who has ever thought of visiting a shrink or go for counselling, don’t waste your time and money on it. Instead, read Alice In Wonderland. I know. You’ve already probably read it when you were 10 years old, but read it now, when you like to believe you’ve grown-up, seen the world and become wiser. It has the answer to all your life problems without being preachy and without cornering you to a state of panic.
Excepts:
Alice asks the Cheshire Cat: 'Would you tell me, Please which way I ought to go from here ?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to', said the Cat.
'I don't much care where—' said Alice.
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go', said the Cat.
'—so long as I get somewhere', Alice added as an explanation.
'Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only walk long enough.'
Yes. You are welcome. You can mail me so we can figure how you can send me the cheque you planned to give away to the counselor. Of course, I will buy shoes with it. And I might ask for your advice on them so you don’t feel entirely left out.
I’m also scared I might be booked for harboring and encouraging child labour. She’s apparently is 18 years old. But looks not a day over 10. To avoid getting arrested, I have decided to just let her read hair magazines all day long.
I’ve put on 2 kgs. My life is shattered because of this. I’ve begun my fruit diet from today. It helps that I also have a stomach infection and tiny blood pressure issues. I’m hoping all this illness combined together will at least make me a little thinner. And all the fruit that I’m about to eat will make my skin shinier, minus the shimmering lotion.
And finally, anybody who has ever thought of visiting a shrink or go for counselling, don’t waste your time and money on it. Instead, read Alice In Wonderland. I know. You’ve already probably read it when you were 10 years old, but read it now, when you like to believe you’ve grown-up, seen the world and become wiser. It has the answer to all your life problems without being preachy and without cornering you to a state of panic.
Excepts:
Alice asks the Cheshire Cat: 'Would you tell me, Please which way I ought to go from here ?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to', said the Cat.
'I don't much care where—' said Alice.
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go', said the Cat.
'—so long as I get somewhere', Alice added as an explanation.
'Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only walk long enough.'
Yes. You are welcome. You can mail me so we can figure how you can send me the cheque you planned to give away to the counselor. Of course, I will buy shoes with it. And I might ask for your advice on them so you don’t feel entirely left out.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Once upon a time I was a cookie
Now I’m just sticking to the ends of the baking tray, hoping someone will scrape me out and relish every bit of the last, gooey, gummy remnants of a snack.
I’m stuck in a warped zone.
And I live in a world where carrying your pen-drive is more important than your precious hand sanitizer. You see, you never know when you have to upload, download, save, delete or show your work. At least the work in progress.
The other night I had an un-dream. I dreamt about long hair, and little girls and teenage boys and what interesting things and situations they might find themselves in. And these were 30 second dreams. Just the length of an average TV commercial.
I did wake up between the commercial breaks to slide open my phone, so I could get a little light and jot down these ideas on my brown paper-ed notebook. Because we all know you don’t remember your dreams in the morning. And which cubicle will I move to by year-end and how more tax I shall pay by June and other such trivial matter is all dependent on these dreams. And their ability to sell more shampoo and clog more drains with falling hair due to the detergent content in them. I know, this doesn’t say much about me, except probably the fact that I could be turning into an obsessive loser workaholic.
I also tucked in some tandoori chicken with blanket nerve in the bylanes of the city, late in the night, and talked for a couple of hours. And most part of the conversation was about places we’ve visited and how those roads were ideal for this and that. We were doing a recee in the middle of nowhere, and for no apparent reason. And we both remembered a trip we took together a long time ago, to Goa. Where most of our days were spent smoking up in tiny pockets of beaches, hidden from the world, lapping up the waves as we lay down at the edge of the beach where the sands seemingly end and the waves wash in. And we confessed to each other, for the first time, at that exact point, none of thought of romance, love and all the fluff. I saw beautiful cinematography there. So did he.
My ipod no longer belongs to me. Its used for the greater good of mankind. Its loaded with reference tracks for potential background score for potential above mentioned commercials. So I could just plug in the ipod in client meetings to tell them what exactly I have in mind.
I do not mind.
Because I actually enjoy this bubble warp. It allows me to cut out the supposedly big things in life that I should be worried about. Like lack of money to pay those taxes. Unsettlingness. Wardrobe Nothingness. The lack of a relationship. And my lack of wanting to do anything about it. But what does make me sad is the future. Exactly how long is this time warp going to last? After that, what?
I’m stuck in a warped zone.
And I live in a world where carrying your pen-drive is more important than your precious hand sanitizer. You see, you never know when you have to upload, download, save, delete or show your work. At least the work in progress.
The other night I had an un-dream. I dreamt about long hair, and little girls and teenage boys and what interesting things and situations they might find themselves in. And these were 30 second dreams. Just the length of an average TV commercial.
I did wake up between the commercial breaks to slide open my phone, so I could get a little light and jot down these ideas on my brown paper-ed notebook. Because we all know you don’t remember your dreams in the morning. And which cubicle will I move to by year-end and how more tax I shall pay by June and other such trivial matter is all dependent on these dreams. And their ability to sell more shampoo and clog more drains with falling hair due to the detergent content in them. I know, this doesn’t say much about me, except probably the fact that I could be turning into an obsessive loser workaholic.
I also tucked in some tandoori chicken with blanket nerve in the bylanes of the city, late in the night, and talked for a couple of hours. And most part of the conversation was about places we’ve visited and how those roads were ideal for this and that. We were doing a recee in the middle of nowhere, and for no apparent reason. And we both remembered a trip we took together a long time ago, to Goa. Where most of our days were spent smoking up in tiny pockets of beaches, hidden from the world, lapping up the waves as we lay down at the edge of the beach where the sands seemingly end and the waves wash in. And we confessed to each other, for the first time, at that exact point, none of thought of romance, love and all the fluff. I saw beautiful cinematography there. So did he.
My ipod no longer belongs to me. Its used for the greater good of mankind. Its loaded with reference tracks for potential background score for potential above mentioned commercials. So I could just plug in the ipod in client meetings to tell them what exactly I have in mind.
I do not mind.
Because I actually enjoy this bubble warp. It allows me to cut out the supposedly big things in life that I should be worried about. Like lack of money to pay those taxes. Unsettlingness. Wardrobe Nothingness. The lack of a relationship. And my lack of wanting to do anything about it. But what does make me sad is the future. Exactly how long is this time warp going to last? After that, what?
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