Wednesday, April 9, 2008


You don't need nobody
for the far away African Safari

Quiet coffee conversations
A new persecutive
So much more of the world to discover
People, at their amusing best

Mango reminds me of summer at home
Of home wrapped lunches at school
Of cigarette smoke and people who discuss nothing

You don't need nobody
To feel blessed from within

There is time to stand and stare
Time to feel attractive.
Friends who bless in unknowing ways
Time to feel your legs look good today.

You don't need nobody
To be one with the resonating music

Pictures from the past, they stare at you
Memories give you hope and fulfillment
Food tastes excruciatingly good
You don't mind the taste in your mouth so much.

You don't need nobody
to guide your starry skies.

Smiles come naturally, so do the answers.
Spiritually comes spontaneously buoyed
The unfulfilled dreams so close
Yet your at peace knowing they are far

You don't need nobody
to write in your notebook.

The brown eyes and the face render the pleasant
More joy than sadness, more sun than not
Conversations bring hope, about beauty and vastness
Yet to be discovered.

You don't need nobody
To ever stop learning.

Free by Cat Power. I love the guitar riffs and the smooth sorta urgency in her voice.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Should I call you Jesus?

Should I call you Jesus?
Should I call you Saviour?
Should I call you the dissemenator of all my fears?

Should I call you wonderwall?
Stealer of an Oasis song?

Should I call you a music tune?
of all worries, you make immune?

Should I call you a shooting star?
A wish I make, I know will not carry me far

Should I call you a pleasant break?
Who stay and talk and thus, my day make

Should I call you an apple red?
Which appeals so much more than the normal, I dread

Should I call you God's voice
Who is tolerant of my will and choice

Or should I call you the pleasant laughter
Which resonates within even after.

Should I call you a stirring discussion?
To send me into a realm of quiet introspection

Should I call you the unfailing desire?
Who doesn't cease to stoke the inner spark and the fire

Should I call you words of beauty
Which instill in me some sort of passive duty.

Should I call you Jesus?
Should I call you Saviour?
Should I call you the dissemenator of all my fears?

Should I call you Jesus by Billie Myers. I've searched high and low for that song! I had it on a rock anthems tape is class 11 I think. Used to love this song. Haven't heard it in years..

The story of Rigid Girl again

Rigid girl must have worked very little today. It was 3 pm and she was thirsty. She was typing an email out and struggling for the words. Now and then, she would stare at the fotos of family members on the wall.. all stuck in smiles.. in a postcard from happier times.. the smiles seem too perfect to be true.. a state of mind she little identified with right now.. She wondered at the email as her fingers tap thru the keyboard. As if tapping them harder, would make it more meaningful to the reader. The futility of the exercise wore her down. she had taken her secure little universe and her carefully planned life (or so she thought) too much for granted.. all her unfulfilled dreams were right there.. just a little out of reach and waiting to be stolen by her.. all compartmentalized and stored away for a later day. They seemed ridiculously beyond her reach and it bothered her intensely. Her mind wandered to an old post about a crazy boy who had set her free. Crazy boy, who had always been her partner in not-so-rigid-ways. The smile which rose within her soul was quickly wiped out like the flame of a candle extinguished by a random person.

Crazy boy had taken his crazyness along with him to a far away land. A life rigid girl always wanted to be a part of, but never quite could. She concluded that the crazy boy was not-so-crazy anymore. He had a new name on the outside. On the inside, she knew that crazy boy would always remain just that. To her. Not-so-crazy boy had changed too. He had become jaded and worn. The vacuum of time and distance and space had eaten away at him and left him fragmented. He was older and wiser, but his eyes still reflected a hint of the crazy soul. Why else would he leave her a rainbow colored bubble as a keepsake for till he returned.

A loud shout of laughter brought her back to her senses. And she stared at the screen in front of her. Little did she have trouble expressing herself. The words seemed like a jumbled mess in front of her.

Rigid girl had traveled a long way. A long, hard way, but not completely devoid of laughter and sunshine. She was well on the way to becoming crazy girl herself. She trampled and fell and rose up quite happily. She always pretended to be strong within coz she knew it would be worth it to be all crazy in the end. Her mind often wandered to crazy boy, but now she had the bubble he gave her instead. It was more a memento than a replacement of crazy boy. Wherever rigid girl walked, the bubble followed. She grew to nurse her life and her dreams in the large pretty bubble with rainbow colours reflected on it. As time went on, the bubble grew and sparkled and grew big enough for her to play with it. She still felt rigid, but the bubble crazy boy had left in his place, eased the rigidness and made her light and happy. She was optimistic for her future and she could afford to be a little crazy. She loved how the bubble made her feel alive and hopeful. She had grown to treasure the bubble which got her through good times and bad. She thrived on it and held it close to her in times of hurt and pain. One day, the bubble burst and fell at her feet. And she was left with nothing. Half-crazy girl wept for the loss of her precious bubble. She was left broken beyond repair. Every passing day, rigid girl didn't stop thinking about the bubble which ex-crazy boy left her. She had nothing left of crazy boy now. She lost her crazy boy and the bubble. The shadow of the lost bubble and crazy boy haunted her. They resounded in heart and soul and eyes. She was afraid to dream again. Rigid girl was back to being just that.

Monday, March 31, 2008

English August

Maya felt the cold surface of the sheet she was lying on. It smelt good. It smelt like a mix of the old and the clean and the familiar. The sheet was probably there for days before she got home. The sheet was wet because she had cried into it. She enjoyed the helplessness of not having the physical strength to wipe away her flooded nose and eyes. How melancholic, she thought. Is this why Devdas, drunk himself to death? How lame. She was experiencing the finality of having the person she loved the most in the world squeeze all life and hope out of me like a toothpaste. Slowly and deliberately squeezed out. She marveled at the surreal sense of have the profound inability to think and well, act. It had been raining outside. Everything, took on a dull yellow tinge. She heard her dad walking around for his usually mid afternoon snack. Her dad usually sensed stuff. She so didn’t want any advice or questions. She would leave home in a few days anyway.

She had really wanted it to rain when she was here. The dry land where she lived little appealed to her. Now she wasn’t so sure whether she identified with the dull grey skies. She would rather prefer a blindingly cheerful sun. In fact, she didn’t want neither. She felt like the universe was conspiring against her. She walked over to the kitchen and swallowed several gulps of water. It felt cool and life giving but only like drops of oil on water.

She thought back to earlier this morning, when her mom and her had been to the jewelry shop. They had placed in a corner, a cut out of an articles on body piercing. The article said that kids who did so usually suffered from psychological problems and did so to evade hurt and feel better about themselves. She had been quite amused by the opinion and smirked at the ‘adult’ view of the trend. The article talked about a girl who had broken up with her boyfriend of 4 years. She had pierced various parts of the body coz she got some kind of sweet pleasure from the pain. Yeah, those were the exact words of the article. She remember feeling like that was the most bizarre and ridiculous thing ever. Of course, this recollection happened in a split second of a thought molecule when she still felt the wet sheet under her cheek. It still sounded pretty damn painful but very understandable to her. Strangely, she thought of famous people who had committed suicide. Did they also feel it snap? She wondered. Why didn’t they get help? She could not control the thousands of images, feelings, shapes, emotions all flashing inside her brain like a intimidating thunderstorm. She wish it would stop, it was giving her a pounding headache. She idly compared it to some kind of death metal concert in her head, backed by memories in tune with the melody-less thrashing. (which is wat she expected a death metal to sound like) She thought of a family friends son, all of 35 years old, who still hadn't gotten over his college years wasted-ness. He had cheated on his wife with the wife's sister apparently. Maya pondered at the complexity of such a situation, but couldn't empathize completely. He had recently suffered a stroke, and was left paralyzed in a semi-conscious state due to cocaine addiction. (was the popular rumor). His broke 75 year old father is still wheeling him around. Maybe Alanis Morisette should've quoted this example instead of rain on a wedding day.

Her mom peeped in. She shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep. She enjoyed the numbness and the glorious sensation of being feeling-less for a second. Her mom left. And the turmoil took on tidal wave proportions. Where the crashed and wrecked and and suffused the sheet with more sorrow and wetness. She had the creepy feeling of going completely psycho. Collective images, impulses once again rocked her and she felt no control of her senses. She could feel it, yet felt surprisingly sane. A small giggle escaped her lips. Do people still smile when they are psycho? Or are mad people portrayed so?

She felt like being promiscuous and briefly annoyed at her mom’s snide comment about not wearing clothes to show off one’s assets. Like I’ve ever done that in my life, she thought. She still felt like being promiscuous. And, stuff had happened very slightly the last time. She couldn’t go forward with it though. The pain engulfed her once more, all thoughts of promiscuity wiped out.

Why was the internet not working again? Nice timing, she thought. The internet was her refuge. Where talking to people helped her stop thinking of the pain. Like some kind of matrix-like-world where people and feelings doesn’t exist. She often wrapped the blanket of anonymosity of the internet around her. Where was it now?

Maya stared outside the window. The avalanche of snow and rain and dirt had settled down meaningfully well in her head. layers of it. layers and layers. countless layers. She could see it clearly. She knew her nights were going to wreck her insides even worse than before. She predicted that something would never be quite the same again. She wouldn’t never trust another person with same kind of shining na├»ve innocence she kept for few. She had a few droplets of hope left. A far cry from the many bucketfuls she carried around in her bubble. She still holds on it like a security blanket. But, constantly aware that it can be snatched away and she left naked. Thoughts of promiscuity took hold of her again. Almost, like a cover for her future naked-ness. She prepared herself for nakedness.

Er, for more updates on Maya’s fucked up life.. watch this space!!

Named English August, as the incongruity of existence of the main character in the novel is comparable.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

These days

Sometimes I feel like some words have been said so many times that their meaning exausts all possible interpretation. Those are the only times words fail me. When making an effort, doesn't make any difference whatsoever. These times are particularly frusturating and baffling as I'm left cornered by a wall made up of unvent emotion.

Today I was talking to Camel and saying how people console when somebody dies by saying (in a book or a movie or for real) the ones we truly love will never leave us and blah blah. Sounds kinda crappy, but I believe so. Nobody died, but I feel the same anyway. So I decided to let go.

This time the post title come from a Bon Jovi song from the album of the same name. I think one of the most underrated Bon Jovi albums and one which means A LOT to me. I'm generally not a one band person. I also skip from band to band pretty quickly. But, till now Bon Jovi has not stopped sounding awesome. He always makes me stuck in this alternate universe. Nice to get lost in it..

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Hollow years

Have your ever felt despair? desperation? do they mean the same thing? Ok if this was a quick come n go kinda feeling it'd have been a lot easier to handle. I think despair is more momentary than desperation. Think mine is the latter. I don't think nobody can get what I'm feeling and its so frustrating to feel that. I don't have much to talk about in here except my feelings. I wish I had a story to share. Some thoughts. Oh yeah, i do actually. A friend of mine recently had a stalker in the form of an old lover. He was actually stalking her! and I was like part of the whole drama. It even got amusedly filmy when he threated to commit suicide if she didn't get back together with him. Which left me wondering how anybody can say such things to force the person back into his life. It sounds so incredibly selfish to me. But then I can't judge coz I don't know what levels of desperation the person went thru. There's the word again. Is it ok to say things like that just coz your in despair? Maybe its some twisted mind game to get the person back. What if saying that made the person come back and things turned out for the better? Is it a selfish or clever thing to say? Desperation is relative, is it? Just coz I cant feel the desperation of that person, that makes it not okay for him to say that! So if I understood his desperation, would I understand him saying that. Ok, now I've hit a dead wall. So I'm going back to work now. But, desperation still remains. Looks like this blog is gonna turn out to be just what I didnt-want-it-to-be after all.

Hollow years by Dream Theater recco'd by Tazz. Amazing song. One of the few songs where I like the beginning and the verse more than the chorus. Totally buried the song in my memory, but recently heard the band play it live at Chinese and Thai Cafe. I think its one of the more melodious songs by Dream Theater.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Feeling good

i feel a weird tingling sensation
i feel terribly betrayed.
i feel unsettled
i feel incapable of listening to any music as everything sounds too painful.
i feel insanely missing mom
i feel sick
i feel worried
i feel numb
i feel some kinda overpowering sadness
i feel inadequate
i feel like the earlier sense of happy fullness was snatched away from me
i feel pissed
i feel capable of bursting into tears any given moment
i feel in control all the same
i feel left in the lurch
i feel like i need a break
i feel like i need someone who values me
i feel like there is a log on my neck. physically.
i feel capable of writing but i rather vent
i feel let down by me
i feel stuck in a box
i feel trapped
i feel ignored
i feel spaced out
i feel like not working
i feel like running on a treadmill for miles n miles. thats a first.
i feel like vodka

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Bend and Break

Today, the string broke. It used be a thickly coiled, rough and sturdy, fibrous kinda rope. The kind people tie around a tree to pull it down. There was a lot of wear and tear of course. The rope never had it easy. In fact thats a terrible understatement. Maybe it was all the constant tugging. Or all the rain and shine and weather changes the rope had witnessed. Towards the end, the old rope had it hard, it shrunk and groaned its way all through the end. Some months had seen it on its very last string. The last string provided some comfort and relief to the old rope. Like a faithful son. It told of the ropes great legacy left behind. It aptly represented all what the old rope used to be in good measure. Now it was gonna be its last witness to the rope's life. But bit by bit, the string too finally got shredded away to nothing. Empty. Non existent. Space.

Bend and break by Keane sounds suspiciously like Travis, if you didn't know which band was singing the song. Once used to be on my list of Sector 56 to office travel songs.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Mango Tree

I just discovered my favorite video ever. I love the picturization.. its so nostalgic and magical. like something out of my head.

I wish I had a mango tree
In my backyard
With you standin next to me
Take the picture
From her lips I heard her say
Can I have you
Caught up on what to say
I said you do

I said you do
I said you do

Through my eyes I can see
A shooting star
Weavn its way across the sea
Somewhere from mars
Down the street we would run
To scratch our names in the path
Young and free in the sun
Wheels upon the tar
I said you do
I said you do
I said you do
I said you do

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Quelqu'un M'a Dit

I love you like a dew drop kissing an early morning petal
I love you like the hand which tucks the strand behind my ear
I love you like the beams of sun which hit me in winter cold
I love you like a stroke of vermilion bold

I love you like a dream amongst many
I love you like a lucky penny
I love you like an unshed tear
I love you like a moment so dear

I love you like a crazy urge
I love you like a boat in the deluge
I love you like the tingling left behind in a kiss
I love you like the feel of home so much i miss

Though between us lay uncountable miles of terrain
All that I hold with much disdain
Melt away as soon as I remember you
The hope I treasure with indomitable fire
springs forth for you, my desire

We may be lovers no more, but the mention of your name so sweet
Brings a heady rush of high unto my feet
As i stay here and do my mundane chores
All i ask is to love me more
So it may cumulate into all that one day
For you to ask me to forever stay.

Just for the record and inspired by Quelqu'un M'a Dit. watch it here

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Not ready to make nice

I have been totally slacking off work today after a long time. You know, I'm trying real hard to not make this blog a whiny mushfest like it once used to be. But, today I feel genuinely whiny and weak. To tell you the truth, I've been feeling whiny and weak for some days now. I don't like to meet the old me. Yesterday I got drunk and enjoyed a good cry. Just when I thought I couldn't get more emotion-less, the sorrow spilled over. for five minutes only.

I guess this is what it takes to rise up to challenges. It's never easy to be happy. Misery my old friend, I've missed you. Misery is beautiful. Misery is a friend. Misery is not. Misery needs company. Misery interferes. Misery dilutes joy. Misery is sick. Misery, I hate you. Misery, you make my joy worthwhile. Circle of life that.

Not ready to make nice was recco'd by Camel. That song doesn't make me feel too great. doesn't make me feel good even in a sad way. In fact, I'm growing to be averse to any song which has the feel of wailing women in it. oh well, there goes my angst. Anyway, it marks my moments in limbo. I'm stuck on the bridge. Did I mention I hate being stuck on a bridge? I only hope I don't fall into the river below. And i need a smoke, badly.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Little Bird

Once upon a time on a faraway land, lived a cherry tree atop a little hill. The cherry tree didn't know if it was meant to be on the hill or on plain ground like the other shrubs its age. In fact, the cherry tree didn't know if she was a tree at all. Nevertheless she grew well on the hilltop. Her leaves shone green with the sun fell on it. She sprouted bright pink blossoms and many a ripe red cherry fruit. The cherry tree loved her cherries and was proud of it. She thought it made her look pretty. Every day she would look up and see a little bird glide across the sky. The cherry tree listened to its clear melody and felt very content. Day after day, the cherry tree would wake up joyfully to the little birds sweet song. One such fine day, the little bird flew straight into the cherry tree and perched itself on one of her branches. The little bird quietly started nibbling on the cherry tree's berries. The cherry tree was slightly annoyed. She didn't like anybody touching her pretty red berries. To her frustration, from that day onward the little bird visited everyday. And whats more, he brought a whole crowd of his little friends too. The cherry tree was miserable as her berries where disappearing in front of her eyes. She didn't think she had much to look forward to now that the group of little birds had eaten her prettiness away. She was so forlorn and lost that she didn't enjoy the little birds song after that. Although the little bird had eaten up her berries she strangely, did not feel mad at the little bird. But, she could no longer appreciate the fine tune of the little bird's melody no more. She ignored his melody and his presence. The little bird eventually moved on to other cherry trees. The cherry tree sighed and sighed through many a sunrise and sunset. One day, the cherry tree woke up and felt something different. She wiggled and shook for a glimpse at her self. She saw herself look resplendently crimson. She was amazed to find herself full of pink cherry blossoms and her beloved red berries. The cherry tree couldn't help but break out into a big wide beam. She felt so much at home with her prettiness. The sun had dawned on the cherry tree once again.

(P.S - Little bird by Annie Lenox was one of those pop songs I used to watch when i was 7 or 8 on MTV. I remember being kind of scandalized at the video. which i thought was a fashion show of transsexuals or close. Other related pop songs i watched at that time which revolved around the same theme was George Michael's too funky and free your mind by En Vogue. These videos shocked (the skin show) and excited (yes I wanted to walk the ramp) me at the same time. Today, i remember them fondly. And little bird, I love that song!)

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Loving would be easy if your colours were like my dream.

I never believed in the concept of karma until now. In fact, I still don't totally believe in it, but it seems like too much of a coincedance when I finally got to be at the recieving end of it.

I heard Karma chameleon a long timg ago in school. Predictably, this was my fave line from the song.

I was taken off guard at work today when somebody said something to me that was much more a dramatic blow than I normally would've percieved it. Nothing big. Nothing earth shattering. Nothing which would directly impact my life. Nothing too grave to be unable to overcome. Nevertheless, the change I experienced within felt, well, irrevocable.

Lately, I have been trying to perfect the art of separating emotion from reality. Coz I usually feel that life gets kinda fucked up if I don't do this. So, I was more affected from the perception of reality and this is what deeply bothered me. Even as I think this, I can't think of how well I left my emotions behind. In fact, I would have been in a better position if this had something to do with emotion. Only because, in my head, emotion is an excuse to be upset by something. It's scary for me only coz my sense of reality is upset. So, all I have left for company is void. I try to keep my mind active and separate. But, every now and then, I get a lingering stab from void himself. I wish he'd leave me alone coz he leaves me helpless. As an afterthought, he likes to surprise me with vivid images which prolongs the sense of hopelessness. He also leaves me with a continoued sort of dread. He does a lot of things to me. He complicates it.

So, coming back to the karma bit. All I can say is karma or not, what I hate the most is the suffocating guilt involved. I'm totally lashing myself for my total apathy when I was at the giving end. I realise that this is one rare times when I guess it can be established that recieving is better than giving. (Who am i kidding, isn't it always? All those who think otherwise, carry on the good work.) Atleast, it never leave you with lots of sadness. Last time, I comforted myself saying it was meant to happen. This time I try to find similar comfort.

You do realise I'm being vauge on purpose?

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Kiss the rain

Today, at an idle moment at work, I got a sudden feel of a rainy day in madras.. dusty cobwebs hung for dear life to the memory( not like it was so damn far away, but it sure felt like it) and I simply had to dust em away

The song kiss the rain holds special significance to me.. only coz it was the first song Tazz recommended and I loved it coz i always associated it with him (loved it otherwise too) and I listened to it during the time you-know-what happened.. also formed a background for many a rainy day during a particular Madras November monsoon.

Anyway coming back to what this post is really about..

The image of madras when it rains is colorfully etched in my mind.. its not just visual, it is, in totality, a whole lot of other things which reflect some of the happy(although, I didn't realise then) moments of my life. Today all of these flashed through my mind with much nostalgia and wistfulness.. and for the first time since I came here, I missed Madras more than ever before..

The gradual graying of the skies before the heavens burst open, the intoxicatingly damp smell of the earth as the first raindrops hit the dusty earth, the overpowering laziness of not wanting to go to school or college, listening to the sound of hard hitting rain on the asbestos roof above my courtyard, wearing rubber chappals(yes, the ugly ones you wear to the bathroom) to school/college coz ur feet are gonna get wet anyway, experiencing a small joy at not wearing socks n shoes to school that day, the slushy dirty road I had to walk thru to get to my bus for college, total annoyance at dirt being splashed on the back of my jeans, wide slimy slushy streets, the view of anna nagar roads flooded with water and people wading thru them, the empty-ness of the classroon a rainy day, the row of umbrellas i used to see lined up outside class, getting my feet soaked in water puddles while walking from my classroom to where the bus is parked , avoiding all wet surface in the college canteen, wearing baggy clothes to college coz it gets colder when it rains, the sound of the rain splattering on my window, wearing socks to bed when it gets too cold at night, listening to loud croaking (really loud) of frogs ringing thru the night before i fall asleep, the absolute reluctance to get out of bed in the morning, getting slightly drenched while walking back home after the bus drops me, the touch of the wet door gate before i get in, the neem tree just outside my house which pelts me with raindrops every time it sways, how all the plants look in my garden just after it rains, untidy piles of garbage gently rotting in the rain, the very many puddles i strove to not get my feet into, the freshly scrubbed green leaves on the trees after it rains, the view from my kitchen window being a blur of green, brown and grey when I go for an afternoon snack, being pleasantly woken up to know that theres a holiday coz of the heavy rains expected, general lethargy when it rains, hurrying(forcibly by mom) upstairs to get the clothes off the terrace before it gets wet and getting slightly rained on in the process, pretending to be revathy n do that film song in the rain dance, walking barefoot on the ground when it rains, hearing the drains outside go drip-drip-drip after when it rains, reading when it rains, hot bajjis when it rains, watching that funny mohanlal movie when it rains, a power cut when it rains, hearing a transformer burst in a distance when it rains, being under an umbrella when it rains, being under a blanket when it rains, sleeping when it rains, dreaming when it rains..

This is a nutshell is what I love about rainy days in madras.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

Of new year updates and promises

I realise I havent written a proper blog post for a long long time.. Today just out of the blue, I went through some old blogs I used to visit during my jobless days at Madras.. made me wanna update mine again..

Once upon a time last September, while listening to this blatantly cheerful song by Tom Petty, I (dramatically put but realistically) felt these waves of optimism crash over me. And if you read my older blog posts, you'll know that thats a rare moment. it is. Which is what caused me to name this blog so.

I could do no justice to this post if I try to cram in all whats happened since where I left off last.. When I looked at my moody blues blog I felt very amused more than anything. I love it coz it reflects who I really was. My life now is as drastically different as an alternate universe.

Something New :

- I am away from home. On my own feet and loving it.
- I am friends with people whom I never thought I'd be friends with, let along talk to.
- I have become somehwhat high maintenance and a bit of a cleanliness freak
- I realised this year, that I have a spectacular cognitive ability to understand people and situations.
- My mind seemed to have expanded in leaps n bounds.
- Tazz and I, we broke up. I do not wish to elaborate. Fun way to start the new year huh.
- Work keeps me busy and active. It feels awsome to be a productive part of a workplace.
- I can drink and smoke whenever I want, wherever I want without worrying about people. ( This is serioursly a Godsend)
- I never thought I'd miss Virgin Bride's wedding. (one of closest friends from school and college)
- I find myself being ridiculously tolerant bout people and their ways.
- I manage my finances very well.
- I dont think these ( are as dreamlike as they once were to me.
- I never thought I'd so much enjoy non-ficition about the cosmos and the creation. ( refr to A short history of nearly everything - Bill Bryson)
- Previously, I'd have been appalled to like songs like this (This is really funny i know.. heh.. In my defense, it reminds me of the Delhi life.. kinda like how I enjoyed some Satisfaction remix thing in madras)

Something Old (and its bound to much shorter than the new) :

- I am still very choosy about the things I buy. To wear, to eat, for my house.
- I am emotional as ever. It only takes me any old song to get teary eyed in the middle of work. Yesterday, I bawled thruout Father of the Bride for the nth time. and that flick, isint even that sad.
- Homesickness (but well made up for by my delhi home)
- I still cannot get used to the in-your-face Page 3-ness
- I still complain to whoever I can about how fat i look.
- I dislike the cold.
- I still love alcohol and a good party.
- I still make obnoxious, blunt comments at inappropiate moments.
- I still need somebody to love.

Something Borrowed (aka as my aspirations for the new year):

- I hope to keep blogging this year. Brought on by a little part of me who wants to write about all I see and learn each day. Maybe even write a book someday.
- I want to keep reading. (fiction, not, prose, poetry, anything which makes me think.. )
- Also, wanna travel to some new place each month.. (Think this might be the one which wud take the most effort.)
- And last, to constantly chase my spirituality.