Harmony

It's been a long time since I stayed awake all night long, unable to sleep, for all those thoughts that keep coming and rolling off the mind.

There is something about change, that stirs up everything and makes it difficult to feel that solid ground again beneath your own two feet. There exists a resistance to change, akin to clinging onto your bedpost when the whole world is a hurricane.

Sometimes, nothing really happens, and yet it's all inside. Why it's there and how it got there in the first place bewilders the mind. You seek and in seeking, get lost in the maze of your own mind. Unable to retrace those steps because already your mind has left the ground and gone to the moon and back. In a flicker of an eyelash, you've gone through decades, seen tides and tsunamis, sands and thunderstorms.

In change, there is grief. A tearing apart of one thing to become another. From destruction of that which was, to acceptance of that which is now. Change can be good, but even in good there can be sorrow. How does anything make sense when sense itself is not present? And yet, it's beyond even sense, it's a flood of sensations.

We become mired in that state wherein we yearn. In wanting, the further our feet sink. It then should be understandable that when the day arrives when all comes to pass, it becomes so hard to pull out of that quagmire within we've been cemented without some semblance of pain. In attaining pleasure, we endure pain.

Only when we become an island can we learn to control our tides. With less interaction from within the heart of ourselves, it becomes easier to attain serenity. A serenity that belies the underlying currents. Those currents that seek to intertwine with similar currents. To feel a newness in sharing and merging and becoming all the more greater. For an unfamiliarity that is even more so familiar.

A confluence of two currents couldn't be calm. Only after time, when both have become so enjoined do they become relatively steady.

Likewise, the mind's ability to recompense the before and after becomes a tumultuous clashing. All the more so when it is presented with the disparity and must readjust.

Life is about change. Resistance is nature. All the acceptance in the world does not negate the need to adapt.  Sometimes we need to pull our own self out of the mud, and sometimes we get pulled out by putting out that hand and getting pulled out by that which we help pull out.

Sometimes, you lose a night's sleep so that you can watch a day begin anew.

Dear Me,

Lately, I have noticed that you're getting less patient, more temperamental, and not as tranquil as you've always prided yourself to be. You were always pretty much the cool, calm and collected type, so what's the big deal?

Are you letting the heat of the summer get to you? I don't think so, because you love sunshine. It's been all blue skies and white clouds and radiating warmth for the most part. Granted, the damn AC has been running crazy on the public transit, and sometimes it gets a bit unbearable, but it hasn't been as bad as we thought it would have been, right?

Then again, I wonder if you've been letting yourself relish in the beauty of nature as much as you used to. Once, you'd be enraptured like a child with a set of keys, with just the beauty of a tree, the ways the clouds looked in the distance and the joy of serene moments in the early mornings.

You haven't been listening to music in a very long time. Maybe it's time to find your music player and get a good set of ear-buds and lose yourself in music again. You are, after all a child of music, and your heart and mind gets swept away into a magical world where almost nothing else but music could take you. Remember those nights as a child, when you had no clue at all about the classical music you'd tune into with your annoying alarm clock? The magic the orchestra could intone as you let yourself go to sleep. Haha, remember the magic of putting in that old Beauty & The Beast audio tape and listening to the music as you read until your eyes got tired and you drifted off to sleep? Or those love songs from movies, where you'd daydream about your Prince Charming? Or finding trance, and getting lost in the enigma of the heart and soul? Or those awesome songs that remind you of everything you've got to be thankful for?

Why have you gotten so irked and temperamental? You're the one who always carried around "Live love laugh" like a crown. You're the one who loves to be strong for others and be full of joy! You were all about cherry blossoms, babies' gummy smiles, fuzzy socks, cotton candy. You believed that "life" needed an exclamation mark. Listen, forget past tense. You ARE. We need this happy go lucky kiddo you've always been back. No, age is just a number. Forget about people just giving you looks, or making you feel foolish when you want to be funny or random. Stop getting hurt when people say stuff. You're far beyond just silly remarks and words of ridicule. Haven't you learnt by now?

Breathe. Take a walk when you need to. A 2 minute break is worth saving a day's headache. Peace, love, happiness. Life is more than just worrying all the time. Don't keep waiting for someone else to be there for you, you're strong enough to be strong for yourself and for the people you care for. You can do it, babes.

Remember what you always said. Be happy for this moment, this moment is your life ♥

Love always,

Me.

On Grammar

As many of you who know me know, I am a bit of a perfectionist (it's my star-sign, I tell you). Not that I am not guilty of making misteaks myself (oops?). I confess, I have to make mistakes, or else my true identity as a perfect alien would be revealed, and one of the first things I learnt when I beamed down to this planet Earth was that it is human to err.

However, that does not stop me from pointing and laughing at those mistakes people do make.
(Not that I really do, they tend to just make me shake my head and cringe.)

These are several of those grammatical bloopers that really give me neck exercise:




Spelling 

Your vs. You're

"Your so mean to me!" She typed out in protest.

"You fool, it's you're!" I rolled my eyes.

"NO, YOUR MEAN TO ME. I AM SO NICE"

"You're!"

"No I'm not!"

"You're as in YOU ARE."

"I'm not!"

"YOU'RE really in over YOUR head, aren't you" I sighed.

You're: Contraction of  "you are" (the apostrophe replaces the 'a').
Your: Belonging to or associated with the person or people that the speaker is addressing: "What is your name?".

Quite vs. Quiet

"Your so quite today."

"I'm quite what? And it's you're!"

"Am not quite."

"Quite what?"

"I mean to say, why are you not talking..."

"Oh, quiet."

"Yes, that's what I said?"

"No you misspelled it."

"Oh... thanks. Your quiet nice."

*facepalm*



Quite: Absolutely; completely: "You are quite nice!"

Quiet: (Making) little or no noise. Still. "You are very quiet today."


Loose vs. Lose

"You looser!"

"Loser."

"I called you that first! You can't think of anything just because you loosed!"

"Lost."

"Whatever. Watch, I will never loose like you!"

"So...you're tight?"

"Huh?"


Lose: opposite of win.

Loose: opposite of tight.



Weird vs. Wierd

Considering wierd is not even a word, this is just wrong.

You've heard the "I before e, except after c" rule right? It's not true for all cases (especially when it's an "ay" sounding word, like neighbour), but the best way to remember it in this case, is that weird is just weird, so it doesn't follow the rule.

Punctuation

These aren't so obvious as the bad spelling. Most often bad punctuation just stems from not knowing better. I've got two friends who make a deal about punctuation. Nerdyy asserts that his beloved math teacher taught him that "Punctuation maketh a man, no punctuation maketh a mouse." Another friend, who we refer to as the Punctuation Baba, demands that song lyrics be 'typed out' (i.e. 'sung') with proper punctuation. (Go figure.)

Space before question mark/exclamation mark/other punctuation mark

I've always wondered why people put spaces before their punctuation mark. Not that I've actually been taught to do it one way or the other (or, maybe I have, and I simply do not recall), but as far as I know there was never a need for these spaces. So I looked it up and this is what my darling Wiki told me:

Some writers put a space between the end of their sentence and the question mark. This is thought to come from a French practice and is called French spacing. In French a space is always put before question marks, exclamation marks, colons, and semicolons. In English, however, using this space is thought of as bad form. The Oxford English Dictionary does not encourage it. 

No space after comma/period/punctuation mark

This is another of those that also make me feel uncomfortable just seeing, because it feels disorganized. I always think of sentences as one frame of thought, and these thoughts are either separated by period (full stop) or joined with a comma. And these thoughts just as you think them, need the proper pauses. Hence the space (and pertinent punctuation).  So again, I looked this up:

Wiki Answers :
Q: How much times do you space after a comma?
A: After each and every comma there should be a single space.The same as with fullstops, colons and semicolons.

(Not to mention, the bad grammar in the Q, with 'how much times' vs. 'how many'. If it's a countable quantity, use "many".)

Apostrophe Catastrophe: "Plural's" 

I am sure whoever is guilty of making this mistake is just as guilty of skipping the grammar class that taught this simple rule.

You would think that people would know better, but it's (contraction of "it is") amazing to see the number of signs (not sign's) you would encounter that actually have plurals with apostrophes.

In looking up material relevant to this case, I found this awesome site that directly addresses this problem: http://www.apostrophecatastrophes.com/.

Apostrophe with letter s is used to show possession, or in some instances a contraction with "is", and not plural.

E.g. "That is the boy's store." The store belongs to the boy.
E.g. "The boy's going to the store." Used as a contraction for "The boy is going to the store."

The apostrophe is not used for plurals. There are exceptions, such as using it to show a plural of an abbreviation (CD's), however this is the most fundamental rule.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Okay, so Miss Know-It-All, aka Miss Perfectionist is done for now. This wasn't really a rant (if you're inclined to think so).  I just came across many instances recently that have always made me want to point it out, and simultaneously shake my head.

The best of them all: 

Person: "I am such a genious."

Me: "Wonderful. A genius who can't spell genius." 

"DONT CORRECT MY GRAMMER'S !!!"

4: Vibes

It's one of those things that everyone to some subconscious level understands, however, it becomes harder to express or explain it.

You put it into google, and this is how it's defined: A person's emotional state or the atmosphere of a place as communicated to and felt by others.

The ability of an individual to understand the phenomenon is augmented by their ability to experience it. Most often, like things most ambiguous, we experience feelings, emotions, certain sensations that are beyond the grasp of words.

Words are, to an extent, a tangibility. Our capacity to use words becomes limited by our comprehension or lack of comprehension. Oftentimes, there are no words within our own mental library that can sufficiently be used to explain, illustrate, or interpret that which we can only feel. 

As I have often been told,  a lot of relationships (that did not arise from blood relations), have often resulted from this phenomenon of vibes. You become exposed to the other being and in doing so, absorb that aura that is radiating, or as per the etymology of vibes, their vibrations.

We've all witness the effect of a drop of water into a well of flat water. The spreading of each wave, and the occasion of interference as it meets another. When you meet someone, it goes beyond the physical manifestation that is presented before you, there is an "impression" left upon us from that encounter. We feel good or bad about their vibes. We experience a sensation that exceeds the ability for our comprehension.

I can account for the fact that every person who has become a best friend, indeed, I experienced that vibe that told me something right away. Similarly, every job I have ever attained, within the first encounter with the person in charge of hiring me, I was hired within minutes or that very day. There is a certainty I feel within the very first encounter. Those jobs I may have applied for and did not take on were experiences of the bad sort, I usually left before completion of further interviews, or simply felt that something that was "off" about it. Similarly, there are people I may have gotten along with, being the usually amicable person I am, but I just don't feel that bond that exists with the "good vibes" sort. 

Along this line of thought, comes another of my assertions, something I have written about often (just years ago, so you won't be familiar with it unless you stalk my writing).
I believe in love at first sight.

(Part 4 of an IQ Series that attempts to explore the mysteries behind certain personal experiences.)

Mother Goose and Grimm

3: The Premonition

There is something so abstract about the bond between two people. What is it that makes a person like someone, and dislike another? What is it that makes you gravitate towards that one person out of a crowd? Or stay far from another? Why is it that we become so interconnected and close to only a few individuals out of the millions we encounter and out of a world population in billions?

Sometimes, it builds over time. A lot of time. It can take days, weeks, months, sometimes even years. Perhaps you were only acquaintances who had taken no further notice of each other, when years later, you become inseparable.

Sometimes it occurs in the blink of an eye. In a heartbeat.

I am a very sensitive person. When I mean sensitive, I do not only mean given to extreme feelings due to circumstances and mood. I mean that, but I mean more. I feel other people’s sorrows down to the very core of myself. Likewise, when someone is happy, I am giddy – there is a contagion in emotion that I always seem to be susceptible to.

In the same way, I am constantly predisposed to what I call vibes. I'm not sure how to explain "vibes", but this is what I use to explain what is even more inexplicable.

When I meet someone, I experience these vibes. It is an aura of a sort, that radiates from that person, and from these vibes I get an awareness of their state of being. Quite often, within a second of the experience, I have a premonition. And frequently, I'm not even truly aware of this premonition, but after the unfolding of circumstances, I often experience a sense of internal satisfaction that tells me, 'Yes, I knew this all along'.

A bit touch and go, however, I am very certain that there are many of you who will be able to relate to this, perhaps on some subconscious level, or even outright aware that you've experienced this. And I am as certain of this because this is the very essence of the experience.


(Part 3 of an IQ Series that attempts to explore the mysteries behind certain personal experiences.)

15 Countdown Quiz

Another Quiz I hunted up! You should know what to do by now but anyways: Copy the following, paste it into your comment to this post and answer the questions :P

Name 15 people in your family (still alive)

Name 14 movies you like

Name 13 things you like to do

Name 12 foods you like

Name 11 friends

Name 10 songs you like

Name 9 animals you like

Name 8 things you've done this month

Name 7 shows/books you like

Name 6 ice-cream flavors you like

Name 5 names you like

Name 4 drinks you like

Name 3 of your favorite colours

Name your 2 best friends

Name your ..1 lover/boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/crush/etc.

Celebration

Dear Butterscotch,

So I hear that today is your expiry date. Congratulations. Your life begins now (:

2: "Hey Girl" Phenomenon

While I’ve lost count of just how many people have approached me with the assertion that they know me from somewhere, it has also occurred to me that they seem familiar as well, while not as often, but often enough.

Now this statement can vary quite a lot depending on the intent with which it was said. To this effect I present to the “Hey girl” phenomenon.

So one evening, I was standing alone at the bus stop, waiting for the bus (big surprise) when this dude comes by and enters the bus shelter.

I am standing under the lamp post, listening to my music, and I didn’t realize someone was approaching until he’d actually walked right behind me. Unfortunately, I had been singing aloud, and only when I saw him, I stopped and tossed a nonchalant look in his direction, and continued to hum quietly under my breath.

He’s a relatively cute-in-a-boyish-way, desi dude, and he’s standing in such a way that every time I look up the road to see if the bus is coming yet, I’m facing his direction. So in one of these instances, he smiles at me, and I see he’s asking me something.

So I remove my earbuds, “Sorry?”

“Have you been waiting long then?” he smiled.

“Oh, umm. I’d say about 7 minutes or so,” I ventured.

“Oh okay.” He smiled again. “I think I’ve seen you before.”

I sigh to myself, and smile politely at him. “Yeah, I’ve heard that pretty often.”

He comes closer, hands in pockets, rolling on the balls of his feet. I mentally roll my eyes.

“No, I am very sure I’ve seen you before. You have a face that is unforgettable.”

“Um,” I really don’t know what to say.

“You went to U of X right?”he asks. The bus stop is right at the university intersection.

“Yeaahh… I went to U of X..” I answer, thinking that I doubt his use of the verb is the same as my use. As in, I used to go to U of X.

His eyes light up. “Yeah! I knew it! I saw you today!” He points at me with a 'gotcha' kind of gesture.

“Eerrm. No, I wasn’t on campus today. I’m just waiting for my bus because I’m coming home from work.”

Dun dun dun.


Apparently, when I was 22 years old, I didn't want to grow older. I wished that I could be 22 forever, because that seemed like the coolest number for an age to be. Double 2. Not too young, not too old.

As they say, be careful what you wish for. Years later, I still look like I'm 22, apparently. I am a child at heart, what can I say. It, ehm, reflects off the youthful glow in my face?


Example 2.

"Hey girl, I know you from somewhere" The dude remarks, while obviously checking me out.

Yeah. In your dreams. I ignore him.

"Yeah, I seen you in my dreams baby."

O_o Talk about cheesy lines. I continue to ignore.

"Hey, can I get your number?" He persists.

"In your dreams," I smile sweetly and walk away.


While still falling under the "I know you from somewhere" category, I highly doubt that the "Hey girl" Phenomenon explains the high occurrence of what I really mean. Since it certainly doesn't explain it, I can definitely put that aside as the exception that definitely does not prove the rule, and move on to the core of the issue.

And gladly. There is something just more than baffling about being singled out by that weird dude who has managed to stick himself out his (pimped-up) car window while driving by, simultaneously blasting, and lip-syncing to, "You are my chammak challo" while dance-pointing at me. Seriously?


(Part 2 of an IQ Series that attempts to explore the mysteries behind certain personal experiences.)

1: Pretty Brown Girl Phenomenon

It has often occurred to me, in multiple circumstances, where I am told “I have seen you before.”

Variations do, of course, exist to the effect of “I know you from somewhere...”, and “Your face is so familiar.”

Now, it wouldn’t be such a big deal if it happens once or twice. Yeah, pretty brown girl – not very unique, really. (Not to mention, the amazing fountain of humbleness.)

Take for example, one very vivid recollection wherein this “pretty brown girl” phenomenon could be explained.

It being one of those days where I had had absolutely no sleep for the last 24 hours, and perhaps maxing at about six (6) hours for the week, owing to the ongoing battle of balancing work with a imminently due university research paper, I enter the university lab.

As the door shuts behind me in the silence, one head pops up to observe me as I stand scanning the lab for an empty spot.

Being in no real frame of mind to pay heed much, I zombie-walk myself to the empty corner and sit myself down with my materials. The girl sitting beside me, meanwhile, has continued to ogle at me with mouth agape, from the moment I entered to the moment I notice, peripherally, that she is, indeed, ogling at me.

Again, I pay no attention, because really and truly, I am exhausted to the very core of my being, and could hardly care less about a geeky little Chinese girl staring at me through her coke-bottle glasses.

After a few moments, however, of sensing her continued gaze, I give her a quick, polite, smile, hoping it would satisfy her, or better yet, send her a subliminal message to stop. The moment she has my attention, however, she opens her mouth and timidly ventures, “You are beautiful.”

Eh?

Now let me get a few things straight. Being dead tired and neglecting sleep, of course any semblance of daily regimen pertaining to vanity would have been equally, if not more, neglected. (Nota bien, this does not include teeth brushing and showering.)

If my state of mind was any indication of my appearance, I’d describe both as that of a zombie. This being the case, you can imagine my reaction as the meaning of what she just said registered in my fatigued mind.

I blinked, “Um.” I looked at her, then left and right, shiftily, not just a little disconcerted. She smiled, apparently more relaxed.

“You ah very very beautiful. Indian, yes, no? You ah beautiful, moh dan Ashwahiya Wai.” She positively beamed at me.

Okay. I was floored. I was flattered. Zombie-day, and I am beautiful. How could my heart not be touched? But please, Aishwarya Rai?!

“Well, wow. Thank…you!” I blinked at her. I was flummoxed


Example 2.

Another flashback.

In the days when I worked with the public, often I would see a certain mother-daughter duo. The girl was about seven (7) years old, and after the first few encounters, involving her just bashfully smiling at me from behind her mother, she finally opened up.

One day, after looking at me with that wide-eyed look that you just know means she’s dying to say something and is holding back, she finally blurts, “You look like Shilpa Shetty.”

My smile froze, and my mouth opened and shut. I looked at her mother beseechingly, who just shrugged back emphatically at me.

“Umm, me? Shilpa Shetty? But, haha, how?” I asked the girl. She just shrugged back at me a number of times. (Must be something in the gene pool, this shrugging, I tell you.)

“I guess it’s your hair,” the mother offered.

“And eyes!” piped up the pipsqueak.


So under these two scenarios (of many), one could attribute the “familiar face” phenomenon to that of the general stereotype of the “pretty brown girl”.

But, outside of this phenomenon, which I have offered up as explanation oftentimes that maybe they’ve just seen a lot of Indian movies,  those who are certain they’ve seen me before have denied that this is the reason.

For myself, while I’ve lost count of just how many people have approached me with the assertion that they know me from somewhere, it has also occurred to me, while not as often, but often enough.

Is there an explanation? One does wonder.

(An introduction to an IQ Series that attempts to explore the mysteries behind certain personal experiences.)

Quiz 3

I found this just now, thought you all might find it interesting :P

Okay so here is the second half of what was originally Quiz 2. Now copy the following, paste it into your comment below with your replies :D

26. What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex?
27. What are your plans for tonight?
28. Who is the last person you sent an email to?
29. Next trip you are going to take?

30. Ever go to camp?
31. Were you an honor roll student in school?
32. What do you want to know about the future?
33. Are you wearing any perfume or cologne?
34. Are you due sometime this year for a doctor's visit?

35. Where is your best friend?

36. How is your best friend?
37. Do you have a tan?
38. What are you listening to right now?

39. Do you collect anything?
40. Who is the biggest gossiper you know?

41. Last time you got stopped by a cop or pulled over?
42. Have you ever drank your soda from a straw?

43. What does your last text message say?

44. Do you like hot sauce?

45. Last time you took a shower?

46. Do you need to do laundry?
47. What is your heritage?
48. Are you someone's best friend?
49. Are you rich?
50. What were you doing at 12AM last night?

Eye

Lately, I have taken to writing in my notebook as  I travel from work and home. This is a habit I had discontinued for some time due to a number of reasons which I won't go into at the moment.

With the renewed effort that comes with the creation of my blog on Blogger, I have found myself wondering why I have not been making use of the lengthy travel times to putting my thoughts down. Rather than reading, sleeping or meditating on the commute, I have returned to the habit that once used to occupy my every "idle" moment.

There is something so therapeutic about writing, the actual act of writing, pen to paper. In sitting and letting your thoughts just flow naturally and through your fingers to create magic of a sort - however much magic can be created when taking the form of chickenscratch.

By the way, my notebook is one sexy thing. It is black and has leopard print designs and these words repeated all over it: "Social Animal". Normally, I don't really pay attention, but I just realized this now, while flipping to the first page that I picked up a sexy notebook.

Now that I have said all this,  I must admit, I am bored. The recounting of such trivialities doesn't really inspire me to write. But I am making the effort this time for those readers who enjoy reading this stuff, as opposed to the confusing gibberish that spouts when I really get into the joy of writing. Already I have no idea what else to say, so I am going to end this before it becomes more inane.

Trust me, however, when I say that this is just the calm before the storm, because in terms of thoughtful, complicated, and perhaps confusing, there is definitely a storm on its way. ;)

Happy Birthday Di :)

I know I know :P You can stop blushing now. Stop hiding your face in your odhni. Yes di, YOU are the star attraction today.

For those  of you who are reading this, you won't be acquainted with this lovely person - and hopefully I can say "as yet". I'm hoping that if anything gets her out of her observing shell (she'd aver that it's just her LAZY shell), and comment, this would do it.

This is my bigger sister and best friend. I've known her for umm...let me count on my toes...I guess I can round it to nine (9!) years. But like most of those amazing relationships that go beyond just words, that happens almost instantaneously...I feel like I've known her forever.

Di, you already know what it is that we share lol. I don't need to be all sappy mushy and barfy garfy :P You know that no matter how many months it is that goes by the second we meet again, it's like WOW. All our crazy, mental, evil, khushiful and sweetu moments...from "ho ho pat" to "sizzlinggg"... From the elementary school of craze to high school of masti and beyond; those days of the moti mafia, you being "Faith" and me "Love"...all the moments you've always sought to protect and have pampered me and made me feel like a princess...if I can say anything, noone has done that much for me; all those gifts and effort you put into everything to show your love. Being my (not so-) secret santa (hahaha :D) and just the way you show your appreciation, even in your mahalazy ways. No one in the world could be the Di you are! I love you ♥
(Yeah, you can stop preening now)

Ok I add the song here: 

Hum rahe ya na rahe kal 

Kal yaad aayenge yeh pal 

Pal, yeh hain pyaar ke pal 

Chal, aa mere sang chal 

Chal, soche kya 

Chhoti si hai zindagi 

Kal mil jaaye to hogi khushnaseebi 

Hum rahe ya na rahe, yaad aayenge yeh pal :)

Soulitude

There exists a time wherein I have felt suspended, as if in a bubble within which solitude was never more emphasized. I have yearned and dreamt, searched and sought, and in solitude, I have spent many a teardrop.

Solitude being the one constant from the farthest corner of memory, presenting comfort, like a blanket one clings to as a baby, as toddler and as a child. Solitude, like so much that we hold close, that becomes repugnant, instilled by a sense of dissatisfaction, by that stagnation which accompanies comfort over time, the inducement of yearning.

What is desire but seeking to complete that which is incomplete, that without which we recognize we are incomplete, that which we subconsciously understand must belong to us, that must finish what is unfinished.

What we have we do not want, yet we hold onto it all the more simply because we have it. 

When we venture out of our comfort zone into that territory we had always wished to walk upon, how is it then that it becomes so difficult to return?

In solitude, we sing with all our heart for the dreams that come into being and take form out of the silence that enshrouds.  No silence surrounds us more than in solitude wherein we hear our thoughts as loud as our own breath and our emotions as loud as heartbeat. Whether the star attraction, or the one everyone turns to for help, whether the one with the loudest laugh, or the widest smile; whether the one with the most friends, or the one alone lost in thought while everyone walks ahead, no matter where we are or where we go, it is with solitude. It is solitude that whispers to us: there is always something missing.

What we have we do not want, yet even when we let it go, it remains because it has always been ours.

When there are so many hearts who seek the same comfort, another soul to somehow share that solitude, how does it then become so hard to let go of it? We come to the crossroad of deciding whether to hold onto one or the other - solitude, and therefore security, or the fulfillment that comes with togetherness.

We learn that when we must make this decision with conscious thought, no sooner it exists than it dissipates, and we plunge again into that from which we emerged. With how hard we fall each time, we sink further into the abyss, and the harder it becomes to remove the doubt that we will ever escape.

But what is it that we wish to escape? That which we want most has always been with us. In solitude we learn to crave that which we understand we lack, and yet with the essence of every need, the essence of every dream, the essence of every dream that shattered and broke, out of the essence that has accompanied us through each waking moment and every dream we have dreamt, the purpose for which we have been seeking, that in itself has been part of who we are, who we have been and who we will become.

Fulfillment is not in the dispatch of solitude. When we realize that it is ours, it is as if it has always been. Everything we have always dreamt of becomes so enmeshed with the essence of being that even when you walk away from it, it belongs to you. It is an existence wherein there is no start; it merges and intertwines so naturally that it becomes impossible to know where and how it began and impossible to measure how much it quantifies, all you know is that is incontrovertibly a part of you and all that you are.

It defies explanation yet is understood. It escapes the grasp of words, and yet, in solitude, I have tried.

There is a fulfillment that belongs to us. Sometime over the horizon, or behind the clouds. Sometimes it is is your teardrop that has fallen on their head as rain. It is in solitude that you miss it, crave it, and in that absence, it has always been with you.

Growing

Not that I mean to expose or embarrass you Kiara, but when I was about to submit my comment to your comment, I figured that it could be posted as an actual blogpost:) 

So to everyone, this starts off with the lovely Kiara once again.

A little off topic...I was reading some of my older posts, you're right. Seeing the change is the best part.. Comparing then to now! It's fascinating how much things change. Sometimes I want to delete or change my old-old posts (cause they suck).. But I don't know, I remember you telling about this....Well, I'll shut up now :)

My reply:

" Hahaha no you don't have to feel like you HAVE to shut up.. (I'm sure you know this though, because you'd say the same thing also - that "I"ll shut up now" seems to be our way of ending whatever rambling thoughts we have :P)..

I know how it feels, to look back and really want to change something because you feel so foolish reading how foolish you were, or silly, or you thought something mattered so much and now, looking back you realize it wasn't important.

I feel dumb when I look at my older poems and think, damn, I wrote these because I "thought" I was in love at the time, and now looking back, I realize that I was not.. and yet, the poems still have that "feeling"...they're so dripping with emotion that THAT is what embarrasses me.

But that's just how life is. If I went back and changed something, then I'm changing the way I accept who I am, because whoever I am, and however I am now, it's only because of whatever I did or experienced, no matter how silly it was - it's being able to face that old you and understand now that it isn't you anymore because you're a better person from it...Don't dwell on being ashamed of whoever you were, be proud of who you are today.


Now its my turn to shut up :D haha "

Unsaid

There is nothing left for me to say. Everything has changed.

 The light turns red. The bird stops in mid-flight to land on a lamp post. The queue of vehicles empty out of the lane, traffic whizzes by. The light turns green. How can it all go on? How can it be the same anymore?

 Words. They are only words. Finished exams, instructions manual. How to save the world. Words to stop wars. Words that start peace. Words that rip you, piece by piece. What is unsaid remains unsaid, but how can you make words unsaid?

 Hit the delete button. Cross it all out. Rip it to shreds. Shoot out your brains, forget it all. Become forgotten. Sit on the back bench of a crowded bus and watch the world go by. Become so invisible you forget your own name. I am no more, therefore I cannot think. 

Hit a bump and the ink scrawls across the page, an unfinished word. Hi, I said to a face forgotten. Stop being you because you are a problem. You have no words that need to be said, nor words to be written nor words to be read. You have no voice, no reason to speak out. Stop being whoever you think you once were, silence yourself. Be gone. And the reflection faded.

 The light turned red. There was no queue, explained by the flutter of yellow tape. The light turned green. There was no traffic. The light turned red. No longer lost in the midst of a crowd that now looked on. The light turned green, there was no birdsong that could out-sing the wail of the siren. There upon the winds a cascade of pages flying free. The light turned red. There was not a word that remained, there was nothing left to say.

You Topia

As you know, or might just have known and forgotten temporarily, I enjoy my time travelling to and from work/home because it allows me a relative state of idleness and temporal, in a matter of speaking,  wherein my mind can do what my mind loves to do best.

Today was a hodgepodge of weather. I'd almost dare to say almost an amalgamation of all 4 seasons that this part of the world experiences, however the temperature did not dip enough to sneak Winter through the back door. 

However, if I may be so bold to defy my own logic, I may actually allege that the frigidity that accompanies Winter was actually experienced; on the last bus home, the driver flaunted his prerogative as operator of the vehicle and abused the privileges that accompany such designation in regards to the AC.

But I digress. My point being, that on the ride home, my mind...digressed. I had stepped out of my workplace in the midst of a humid and warm atmosphere, I stepped off the train to be confronted with a lashing downpour with accompanying percussion and visual special effects. As I sat on the bus that would finally take me to my neighbourhood, I took my eyes off the book I was reading, now and then, to let myself daydream.

Not that I had to give myself permission to do so, not at all - my ever-active mind decides to prevaricate whenever it so wishes. It bows to no will, much less my own. (Yeah, so I exaggerate.)

There is something that happens to me when I find myself sitting idle on a vehicle for which I am not responsible and not in control. As I sit and take the proverbial leash off my mind, it runs happily to the trees it wishes to marks its territory at, and runs here and there as far as it can, after that scent that it is so focussed on. 

When I sit there, and taking in the scenery that presents itself out whichever window my eyes are glued to, when my mind lets go of the trivial idiosyncrasies of the material world such as work and the people around me,  my emotions seem to accompany that state of abandonment and for some reason I enter a world wherein I feel content and something akin to bliss.

There is something that happens to me when this happens to me, and the best way I can describe it is that it is as if  I have fallen in love. 

For those of you so totally anti-love, anti-mushy, anti-gushy, don't tune out so soon. For those of you who are so totally pro-mush, pro-gush, pro-ooh la la, don't get too excited.

There isn't anything rash about the feeling. It is simple....calm. It is simply tranquility. It is my Happy Place.

Where is my Happy Place? I can't put my finger on it. If you give me a map, perhaps my eyes would stray here and there and yet know inside somehow where it is, however, there is not anything tangible about my happy place. 

A happy place is rather a state of being, all entangled with the essence of everything that contributes to it. Sometimes, it can be such a strange fusion of assorted flavours that it seems almost impossible that these ingredients could ever make the ultimate recipe. But it is true. Sometimes, it could be a dash of sorrow, a dash of consternation, a nip of anger, a pinch of desolation, and yet they make the final result what it is.

Like those ingredients we could never consume a great quantity of, their use in moderation makes them essential when they are added into the great mix of everything. 

So strangely, happy does not mean a pure quantity of joy, or of positivity. Happy can mean sad. Happy could mean sorrow. Because, just as light is never fully understood until dark is experienced, happy can never be truly happy, the very essence of happy, without sad. Not an original concept at all, but like all valid and valuable truths of life, however old they are, it remains just as enlightening.

This is what my mind does when it does what it loves and does best; it leads me to temptation, it falls in love.

Quiz 2

Seeing as it's not just myself who's not in the writing mood; here is another superquiz to cure that boredom. It's actually a Quiz of 50 questions, but knowing how little patience many of you have with just 5 questions I've cut the quiz in half :P Now copy paste the following with your reply in the comments section below. Thank you kindly. :]


1. Where were you 3 hours ago?
2. Who are you in love with?
3. Have you ever eaten a crayon?
4. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
5. When is the last time you went to the mall?
6. Are you wearing socks right now?
7. Do you have a car worth over $2,000?
8. When was the last time you drove out of town?
9. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
10. Are you hot?
11. What was the last thing you had to drink?
12. What are you wearing right now?
13. Do you wash your car or let the car wash do it?
14. Last food that you ate?
15. Where were you last week at this time?
16. Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
17. When is the last time you ran?
18. What's the last sporting event you watched?
19. What is your favorite animal?
20. Your dream vacation?
21. Last person's house you were in?
22. Worst injury you've ever had?
23. Have you been in love?
24. Do you miss anyone right now?
25. Last play you saw?

Mrowz

I wasn't going to write a blog today. I just felt so bogged down and under the weather, not sad or melancholic mind you, but just very lazy. Might be attributable to the weather. Still cold and chilly, this is certainly some amazing June weather. My entire day was totally lethargic and vapid and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed.

But then I realized that the last time I actually did blog was Friday, and my resolution to blog daily was at risk of being neglected. So here I am, blogging about not blogging.

Deluge

So the (work) day finally ends. The rain, however has pelted down relentlessly, and the almost November-like atmosphere that has been created by the cold and dark does not dispell. Finally on the last leg of my trip homeward bound, my bus rounds the corner before my stop. I close my book (an Amitav Ghosh, for the record), put it into my bag, look out the window, deciding whether it is raining hard enough to warrant the use of the poor example of an umbrella that I have in my possession.

Flashback: 7 in the morning, slipping into my lovely comfortable flats, opening the front door and being assaulted with torrential rain. Closing the frontdoor to the barrage, then looking around for an umbrella; specifically MY umbrella. 

Now, the story about MY umbrella, as opposed to any other umbrella, goes like this: one day, I decided to invest in a wonderful and sexy umbrella. Not that it was much of a decision that involved a great amount of ruminating; rather, it involved one of many shopping splurges, wherein my eyes just fell upon this absolutely sexy, black and white, houndstoothed umbrella, and my heart said to me, "It belongs to you." 

"Yes," I agreed. "I must have it."

Unfortunately, I could not find my sexy little umbrella (little, because, it folds up into the tiniest little, convenient, compact thing). I was not surprised, because, honestly speaking, I am not so fond of carrying around an umbrella when most of the time I do not use it. Being a devoted lover of rain, I delight in being soaked by the deluge.

Unfortunately, there are those whose voices I must heed, those who care about my well-being and health, and therein, their insistence that I carry an umbrella when it rains. (Not everyone is as hopeless a romantic as I am, tsk.) And it was to that finicky voice I bowed down, stuffed my stubbornness and impractical romanticism away, and relented to the usage of an umbrella.

Alas, in the rush of morning-bus-catchingness, I did not locate my sexy umbrella. I did spy, however, one of those pitiful specimens of its kind; the type which does justice to the cliche of "paying for quality". For the wretched green fellow was a member of the Dollar store family and as such, it was a weakling of a thing. Nevertheless, I grabbed hold of it, and opening the front door to the mastery of the skies, I quickly opened the umbrella to discover that one side, predictably, was already sagging.

With a shrug, in the pitter-patter, I set off to catch my morning bus.


So, reaching my stop, I step down, off the bus, and open my greenthingamajig (could it really be called, rightly, an umbrella? I was not sure). I set off down the street, on the usually nice 4-minute walk home.

I was assaulted. The pseudo-umbrella, for all the good that it could do, somewhat provided shelter for all the good of perhaps, and I am being very generous here, 9 seconds.

There was not a soul on to be seen. The streets had become rivers, and sidewalks streams. The skies were just a mass of bucket upon bucket pouring down, unabated. In the onslaught, I tried holding onto the sagging side of the umbrella in hopes that perhaps it would help; water poured down my upheld sleeves and down my arm, whilst attempting to touch ground again with my feet, as the wind attempted to woo me into a waltz.

I considered just closing the damn thing up and making a run for it. Then, in my head, I heard the voice. "Why didn't you use an umbrella?", it said dryly into my ear. I could hear the entire conversation that ended up into a fussy argument.  I sighed to myself, and held the saggy umbrella up yet higher, narrowly avoiding a hanging metal rod hijacking my eye.

Another minute under the torrent, I had become entirely drenched. Water was everywhere; in my beloved flats, soaking my light spring jacket, running down the front and back of my shirt, trailing through my hair.

With a sigh, I finally gave it up. "I am sorry," I said to that voice of care. "But truly, there is no point anymore."

I closed the damn contraption and with a breath of pleasure, raised my face up freely to the shower.

June

Welcome to June. Dark gloomy mornings, cold winds, and - in case you missed it - lots of rain!

I understand that it has been raining elsewhere before today, and today might be even full of sunshine for a lot of you - but for me, it`s pretty incongruous; all week has been nothing but sunshine and boom, it`s June and it`s raining.

Well, to be honest, we have been expecting the rain, and the storms, since last Friday. A one week delay. No big deal.

In other news: I`d like to welcome on board my co-author. You`d have seen his debut a few days back informing you all that I was sleeping. Anyways, if you see randomness here and there you`ll just have to look at the signature to know it`s not me, but him: Invisible Smoke.

Meanwhile, we have a new channel of geared towards the Romanchik. Yup, she's romantic and rapchik; Let's give a hand for... Layla Basanti.  (When I mean hand I do not mean slap; and if you do give a hand to Layla, let me not be blamed for the rakhi that appears on it.)

Um. And in other news, .... ah, let me think. Think, think, think.

Ah yes, it is FRIDAY.